[myoicche]

BRIE ⸺ 23 · she / her · blk · full-time princess

૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა multifandom blog (18+)┃MDNI!

𝜗ৎ current obsessions : ffvii · avatar · lads · genshin · haikyu

masterlist ┃🖇️ ao3 ┃ most recent: drunken daze ┃🖇️ prev account @gabzlovesu-archived

[mattsundaes]

18+

like imagine you come home from uni one summer and drop by sakanoshita market one morning after a run only to find that your dad’s best friend still runs it. you’re in a sports bra and shorts and you want to laugh at the way keishin decidedly looks away when you press the cold bottle of water he gave you right against your sweat-slick chest.

it becomes a thing—stopping by the store. usually late at night. you steal cigarettes out of keishin’s pocket, and he chides you with no real heat behind it. he plucks them from between your lips to take a drag before putting them right back and you think about indirect kisses and his callused hands.

you drink beers and get a little drunk and complain about the weather and your shitty boyfriend who thinks it’s your fault that you always take so long to cum.

keishin barks out a laugh and drags a hand through his hair as he shakes his head and you inhale as you clench your thighs together.

“it’s definitely not you, sweetheart.”

his words play over and over in your head as you plunge your fingers below the waistband of your shorts as soon as you get home.

you lay it on thick until he gives in one night, until you feel the cool wood of the office desk beneath your ass as he spreads your legs and sinks two fingers inside of you. keishin strokes your tight channel and massages your swollen clit and you cum so hard and fast you nearly cry.

he tells you how good you did for him as he kisses your cheek. tells you to go home and touch yourself like that and get a new boyfriend while you’re at it. your lips try to find his mouth, and he shakes his head with a smile.

“someone your age.”

keishin’s resolve not to be any more of a scumbag lasts all of three days before you’ve got your fingers buried in his hair while he tongue fucks you into a whimpering mess.

“we can’t keep doing this.”

till you’re bouncing on his cock in the back seat of his car.

till your loser boyfriend’s visiting for the weekend and keishin’s got you bent over the desk in his office with the store sign flipped to CLOSED, running shorts pulled to the side and thumbs pressed into the sweaty small of your back as he fucks a sticky, hot load into you and makes sure you don’t forget exactly how quickly you can cum.

[swansolstce]

𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍, 𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 | 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

⤀ synopsis: neuvillette has always been the gentlest of lovers—and so tonight you ask him not to hold back ⤀ cw: fem!reader, unprotected + rough sex, size kink, praise, overstimulation, breeding + creampie, marking, monsterfucking (dragon cock), cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, dumbification, mentions of mates, lil bit of dom!neuvi (??) but he is still sweet — mdni || ꒰ 8.4k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: leviathan fic for leviathan neuv (and I don't mean his constellation) repost from my old blog

“Well? What do you think?” You come home, twirling before him in a gown, different than the one you had left in. The short hem at the front lifts mischievously, teasing just a peek of what lies underneath, while the longer, flouncing layers of skirts behind you, wrap flirtatiously around your legs. Neuvillette feels his throat run dry.

“Navia and Clorinde thought it was high time I changed my look, and you know I can’t ever say no to Chioriya Boutique.” 

While he’s spent the better part of the night reviewing court documents in the parlor, you have been out with Navia and Clorinde, who he thinks have perhaps plotted to kill him. ‘Girls’ night,’ you had called it.

Draped in a vivid palette of the finest fabrics, decorated interchangeably with delicate metalwork and dainty ribbons, the blush on his pale skin is ever-present as he rakes his eyes up and down your body. The dark, patterned stockings, squeezing your thighs just enough, so that supple flesh spills obscenely over the top, the tight, whale-boned embrace of your corset, accentuating the curves of your waist, and pushing upwards the swell of your breasts…

A coy smile graces your features when you catch how his throat bobs in his silence. Giggling, you lean down, tracing the tip of your finger up the contours of his neck, skimming the gentle curve beneath his chin until you’ve tilted his gaze to yours. “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, got nothing to say?”

How can he even think, much less find the right words to say, when the familiar scent of your perfume fills his head with indecent, lascivious thoughts? Everything about you is intoxicating, almost insidiously attractive, so would it suffice to say that he’d much rather see your pretty, new dress abandoned somewhere on the floor? 

That first pulse of arousal translates into the first twitch of his cock, and oh how he wishes to kiss away your teasing little grin, but his lust-driven eyes are drawn to the miniscule movements of your bodice sleeve, predatory as he watches how it begins to shift, ever so slowly, off your shoulders. 

“If you don’t like it, then perhaps…” You loosely roll your shoulder, letting the sleeve slide right off. “…you’d like to help me undress?”

That, he will gladly do. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down into a straddle over his hips. 

“Temptress,” he murmurs into the skin of your neck, distracting you with a featherlight kiss as his nimble fingers waste no time in undoing the delicate clasps of your bodice, leaving the heavy outer garment to tumble off your shoulders, abandoned in a pile at your waist. 

Cool air licks at the now exposed skin, though it’s nothing compared to the warmth of his lips as he slots his mouth against yours, gently coaxing you open with a subtle swipe of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut in honeyed complacence, allowing Neuvillette to kiss you slow and sweet; impassioned, ardent, each kiss an oath of love and longing and lust. 

Desire blooms like romaritime flowers upon water, and you just know the tension underneath his placid exterior, is ready to burst. It’s prevalent in the way his muscles grow taut, tense beneath your every touch, fighting to hold himself back as your legs squeeze around his hips. Demonstrated, again, by how he pulls apart your corset, impatient and haphazard as he unlaces each cross, before tossing it to the ground, forgotten. And of course, only you can attest to the searing sensations of his escalating kisses—gentle wisps, once faint and docile, now wanton and heated with depravity. 

You can already feel it in your chest, in your bones, in the wetness that’s begun to form between your legs; maybe it’s the anticipation, but despite the layers of clothing you’ve already shed, you find it even harder now to breathe, especially as he holds you so close, body pressed against yours, while he traces the bare curve of your neck with his lips. 

For one with such a carefully crafted visage of elegance and poise, Neuvillette becomes sloppier as his restraint fades and lust seeps through the cracks. Something about you drives him wild, draws out the more carnal side of him that he so desperately seeks to hide away from you, who he could never even dream of hurting. 

But perhaps he’s spent too much time amongst humans. Or perhaps he understands their nature more than he had initially believed, for he makes the most human mistake of all in letting his control slip—enough that his fangs graze upon your sensitive skin, sending a shiver that reaches all the way down to your core, eliciting a moan so mellifluous, he cannot help but utter a sigh of strained content as the undeniably sweet sound reaches his ears.

“If we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back,” he mutters, tongue laving over the spot in apology. It doesn’t help that you voluntarily crane your neck, offering him even more access in your heated bliss. His fingers dig into your waist in a silent plea to still your rolling hips. 

“So don’t,” you breathe. “Don’t hold back tonight.” Desperate to have him closer, you arch into him, the loose material of his shirt firmly clasped in your hands, deepening the kiss with a quick tug, a silent request for him to let go, but he immediately halts his movements, pulling away in hesitance. 

Oh Neuvillette. Your sweet Neuvillette, who in spite of his stern exterior, is the gentlest of lovers—always so tender with you and steadfast in placing your pleasure before his. You know of his draconic origins, know that he holds back in fear of hurting you, but for all the times he’s pleased you to the fullest extent, you only wish to do the same for him.

Your hand reaches to cup his face and he leans into your familiar touch, steely eyes soft. “It’s okay, I trust you.”

It’s already difficult denying you anything on a normal basis, so how can he, now that you sit, straddled over him, determination colored in your bright eyes, and with nothing but flimsy cloth left between the two of you. His eyes linger at your chest, the scooping neckline of your lace slip doing nothing to hide the smooth crests of your collarbones, begging to be marked. 

Neuvillette sucks in a breath, and attempts to swallow his doubts, before exhaling. He can no longer ignore the tightness in his groin, and to you, it’s clear that the obvious erection poking from beneath his trousers, speaks much louder than the uncertainty storming in his eyes. Perhaps he just needs one more push…

Your fingers come to curve around the sharp lines of his jaw, unwavering as you tilt his head up into your gaze. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

His heart threatens to leap out of his chest in a flash of excitement, gratitude, desire; it’s far from the first time you’ve lain together, but to choose to bear such vulnerability before him, to surrender yourself to a full-fledged dragon… He glides his hands over the round slopes of your shoulders, easily sliding off the straps of your slip as he goes. The silk garment collapses down your torso, piling atop your forgotten dress. 

“If that is truly what you wish…” He presses an openmouthed kiss to the bare skin between your breasts, and the warmth of his breath runs a chill even colder than the night air. His whispers hide a growl, and despite the blush apparent at the tips of his pointed ears, his hold on your waist tightens. One hand slides down to grasp at your rear, and you can feel him smile against your lips, the rattle of a faint chuckle rippling in his throat before your breath hitches as he picks you up in his arms, and carries you off to the bedroom. 

He sets you by your shared bed, tearing off his now wrinkled shirt, while you wriggle out of whatever’s left of your dress, until both sets of clothing are discarded somewhere on the floor, and you’re finally left in only your panties and your stockings.

Immediately, his hands find your waist, roaming up and down over your curves as he smothers you in hungry kisses, herding you along until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your shared bed. This Neuvillette nips at your bottom lip, not asking for, but demanding entrance into your mouth, and you have no choice but to let him in, what with the way he makes you whine as he sneaks his hands down to knead the globe of your ass, before lowering you onto the bed. 

The tingling sensations bloom in your stomach, buzzing with excitement while you ready yourself to surrender completely—pliant to his will, whatever it may be. Arousal swallows you like the sea and he has yet to even really touch you. Impatient, your hand wanders, though not far down enough before you’re caught in his grasp. 

“Patience…” he mutters, pinning your wrist beside your head, broad shoulders caging you in between him and the sheets. His other hand follows the natural lines of your body, tracing along the edges until he stops to fondle one of your breasts. 

It’s impossible to relax your speeding heart at this side of Neuvillette: less reserved in his touches, more candid in his wants. The untreated heat in your body makes sure to touch on every part of you, running like water through your veins, until you’re sure your dripping cunt is pulsing with a heart of its own. Unable to stand the ache any longer, you wriggle beneath him—rolling your hips and squirming until your knee unwittingly brushes against his crotch, eliciting a choked grunt from him, only slightly muffled by the fact that his teeth have dug their way into your exposed flesh. 

He immediately pulls away at the sound of your surprised yelp, eyes darting to and fro across your features in frantic search for even the smallest semblance of discomfort, completely missing the way your entire body had seemed to arch into his touch. His eyes finally settle at the light indentations now displayed upon your once unblemished skin.

“Forgive me,” he begins, “I should have been more careful.” Neuvillette is ever the gentleman, but his voice is clearly strained in a poor attempt at fighting back his instincts—instincts that demand a dragon to mark what is his. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” A soft smile graces your lips as your hand reaches to cradle his face, curling around his jaw in hushed reassurance. It’s so easy to read the thoughts that plague him so. “It felt good, I promise.”

True to your word, his heightened senses easily pick up on the scent of pure arousal that drifts from between your legs, swirling in the air, and lulling him into a state he’s kept buried for so long, he’s unsure of whether he’d be able to hold himself back even if he wanted to. He admires your bravery for daring to poke at the slumbering beast; bravery he knows stems from a place of passion, but how can he release such inhibitions upon a mere human? So physically… fragile. 

“I meant what I said: I can take it. And I know you won’t hurt me so…” Your fingers clasp around his shoulders, pulling your lover down just far enough to whisper, low and sultry, in his pointed ear.

“Don’t you dare look down on me, o’ hydro dragon sovereign..” 

You lurch forward, manicured nails drawing light lines down his bare back, and he meets you halfway in a long, drawn out kiss. A quiet growl rumbles from deep within his throat, clearly aroused by the way you had drawled out his full title. He nips at your bottom lip, dragging out a single, short gasp before leaving to trail wet kisses down the column of your throat, never stopping until his lips hover over the very spot where he had previously made his mark. 

He doesn’t even have to touch you, just his presence, tangled with your own anticipatory excitement, invites a shudder so deep, you can feel it in your bones. The sharp edge of his fangs scrape along that still-sensitive patch of skin, lightly, as if testing the waters, though this time, he makes sure to take note of the quiver in your pretty little mewls. 

Slowly, he bites down again and a moan slips past your lips, forced out from the very depths of your chest as your fingers fly to tangle in his moonridden tresses. His hot breath seeps past the barrier of your skin, leaving every nerve privy to his effect, and combined with the building pressure, you’re left open for the stream of soft whimpers that leave the perfect ‘o’ of your parted lips. As he sinks his teeth deeper, you squeeze your eyes shut in the midst of all the pleasure.

“Do it again,” you gasp, “felt good… ”

And oh, he has absolutely every intention to, what with the way you’re putty underneath him. However, he must do something about how distracting your hands are when you tug at his hair: hard enough for him to groan with an ache so wanton, it sends tremors echoing down until his trousers feel far, far too tight. 

Neuvillette is neither here nor there when he alternates between kissing and sucking and biting at your tender flesh—anywhere is fair game when you’ve relinquished yourself to him like this. With how attentive his lips are along your body, you hardly even care for the absence of his hand when he reaches around to untie the ribbon in his hair… at least not until it’s too late and you're left bemused by the uncharacteristic display of boldness; after all, it’s all you can do when your wrists are suddenly so tightly bound overhead.

You whine as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue, while he ravishes the other between his fingers. Heat surges through you and the aching desperation congregating in your belly begins to boil; you’ve never felt so sensitive, never been more pervasive to his touch.

Inside. You need him inside of you. But with your hands currently incapacitated, you’ve no other choice except to buck into him, beckoning him with your hips in the hopes of redirecting his attention to where you throb. 

“Inside. Please. I need you. Need you inside.” 

He hums in acknowledgement of your wishes, tugging at the hardened bud with his teeth, successfully wringing another shaky cry from your throat, before he finally pulls at the delicate lace of your panties, and guides them down the length of your legs. You easily kick them off, but in his observation, his piercing gaze catches every thrum of your muscles as they tense underneath the hand that finally trails between your thighs. He drags his lithe fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, while his thumb rubs your clit in slow, but firm, circles. 

“My apologies for the wait.” Neuvillette kisses you right above your heart, where his acute hearing easily picks up how it palpitates as he dips his fingers into your velvet walls. “Allow me to make amends, my love.”

With the way your cunt gushes so copiously, it’s easy for him to slide all the way down to the last knuckle. He flicks his wrist, pumping fast and hard, scissoring you open before slipping in a third digit, drawing out mewl after pathetic mewl, as you fail to pull yourself together. The bedsheets twist beneath your incessant movements: simultaneously squirming not only from the initial stretch, but also to feel him deeper.

The discomfort is all too familiar, but with just the curl of his fingers, it washes away into unadulterated pleasure, just as it always does. But with your arms tethered, leaving you open and powerless, everything—every touch, every twist, every curl—feels tenfold.

Plus, no one would even believe you if you were to say that the chief justice had such a playful side in the bedroom; his fingers have explored your insides far too many times for him to just miss the little spot that he definitely knows by muscle memory. Whining, you buck your hips, senselessly grinding into his hand, hoping he’d get the message, hoping he’d quell your heat right at the source. 

But something dangerous and wild and primordial shines in the blue-violet glow of his eyes. For all the times you’ve made love together, he’s never seen you like this: so desperate, so needy for him. He pinches a nipple, hard, before locking your jolting hips down; a show of strength to remind you of your place. 

“Please, more.” Your voice rises in congruence with how you struggle against your ribbon-bound wrists. His fingers tease the spot again, this time with more force, and he watches as you keen and clench around him—helpless and at his mercy. 

With a curl, his fingers crook inside your silken walls, pistoning in and out, fast and hard. Arousal continues to build, turning the low squelches into distinct suctions. Every nerve in your body is ignited, seared by the heat as he laps at the overflowing wetness that seeps out of your entrance. A satisfied purr sounds in his throat, and the vibrations dare your hips to buck in spite of the iron grip that holds you down.  

It thrills him to see you steadily fall apart like this, coming so undone before him, dissolving under the weight of your pleasure. It’s just as you had wanted. More. So you can take it, can’t you? You can take more? 

Neuvillette slots your throbbing clit into his mouth, hot tongue relentlessly striking the swollen nub with viscous lashes, while his fingers continue to bully your insides with no intention of slowing down. Sucking harder, fucking faster—you keen at the added stimulation, back arching clean off the bed in blinding pleasure, unable to do anything more than let out jagged sobs as you cum.

Your entire body grows taut as he sees you through the end of this high, before finally drawing out with one last sleight of his hand, so that his fingertips might graze along the velvet top of your walls, bidding farewell with another shudder-inducing wave of euphoria. He exits his soiled digits, clearly pleased as he inspects the amount of slick that coats his elegant hand. 

“You’re absolutely divine.” He hums whilst licking up the side of his wrist, so as not to waste a single drop of your liquid pleasure. It’s intoxicating how exquisite you are, more decadent than even the most pristine of waters. “Perhaps you’d like a taste?”

His offer is rhetorical at best, as he answers for you, already slipping his slender fingers into your open mouth, tangling them with your tongue, until the first bits of drool begin to dribble from your lips. 

He unties your wrists, releasing them from the ribbon’s hold; time and experience have proven that you’ll need something to grasp onto. In a haste, Neuvillette discards what remains of his clothes, and his cock springs forward in all its glory: long and thick, pale tip leaking and thrumming with desire. 

“You’re absolutely sure… ?” he mumbles, voice trailing off, almost embarrassed. He can no longer control the way his hips twitch in excitement, begging to bury his cock into your warmth, but for his gentle heart’s sake, he needs to hear you say it again.

You laugh out a soft ‘yes’ but just for good measure, you rake your nails down his chest, applying just enough pressure to tickle his nerves. “Use me,” you goad. “Come on. Be wicked, my dragon.” 

Neuvillette exhales, chuckling softly at humanity's arrogance. Wicked dragon. If that was what you wanted... “I wonder if you’d still say the same after I’ve finished with you.”

He pins you back down in one fell move, and aligns himself to your entrance, stopping after inserting only the tip. A delicate whimper leaves your lips as you wince at that familiarly sweet stretch, but you and your little cunt are both so eager to please—the continued arousal you churn out, weeping nonstop, and already clenching around just his cockhead. You wriggle into him, trying to fuck yourself deeper on his fat cock as you adjust to his size. 

Reaching up, you pull him into a seemingly reassuring kiss, hands smoothing over the framing pieces of his hair, before curving around his jaw. His lips follow yours, but as you pull away and the short pieces of his hair fall back into place, you notice how his slitted reptilian pupils are dilated almost round. 

“You wish for me not to hold back,” his voice comes in a low growl as he inches further into your cunt, “so please show me how resilient you are.”

It’s all the warning you receive before he slides the rest of his length to the hilt, burying himself in your creamy insides. A shattered sob tears through the room, and your arms fly around his neck in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself, but it only pulls him closer as he leans more of his weight into you, pressing down and reinforcing the heavy plow of his merciless hips. 

Taking him all at once like this burns like wildfire. Pain from the sudden, rough stretch spreads hot and fast, the small embers bursting into a blaze of arousal as pleasure breezes through just as quickly—like air infinitely adding to an already devouring flame. 

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, turning his head to reward a small kiss to your cheek. Your hole gushes, rushing to quell the heat, and the added lubrication helps you settle into his pace. Still, the dual sensations wash over you like the tide. It pulls you under, drowns you and consumes you with absolute ecstasy.

And just when you think you’ve grown accustomed, Neuvillette lifts your hips, aiming for the spot he knows will drag out the most wonderfully broken cries from your throat. Your nails dig into his back, and he groans at the vice grip as you clamp down around his cock. With each powerful thrust, he buries himself balls deep with a force that has your tits bouncing along to his rhythm, letting the wanton sound of your sobs ring throughout the room, loud enough to almost drown out the lewd noise of skin slapping upon skin. 

The coil in your belly is wound so tight that you’re sure it won’t be long until it collapses into itself. That it won’t be long until you yourself are about to implode, like a star ready to burst. 

“I’m going… going to…” Between the ragged breaths and the overwhelming sensations of ecstasy, you can’t even find it in yourself to think straight.

Neuvillette hums, his liquid smooth voice doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You’d do well not to break so soon.”

He thumbs your clit, drawing tight circles, ignoring the way you convulse beneath him. As your back arches, he drags the flat of his teeth from the edges of your collarbones, down through the valley between your breasts. 

Your entire body quivers, legs jolting by reflex to the intensity of your orgasm, vision blurring white as your lover continues to pound relentlessly through your high. There’s a layer of fuzziness over your mind that leaves you feeling as if you’re floating atop calm waters, but the fingers still thrumming on your abused nub are quick to drag you back into the salaciously dangerous depths of your own pleasure. 

A string of pitched whines follow in the aftermath, but the pretty noises you make has him throbbing even from within your tight hole. You ask him not to hold back, yet here you are before him, so small and pitiful, already writhing from the intensity—and he hasn’t even cum yet. 

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, your body struggling for a break from the stimulation, but Neuvillette finds it quite adorable, in the way that a predator might toy with its prey. He slows his thrusts, but reaches deeper with every roll of his hips, each languid stroke hitting the exact spot that fills your sight with stars. 

The lascivious sounds of your soaked cunt perfectly swallowing his cock, followed by the slap of his heavy balls on your ass—he’s mesmerized by the way he disappears and reappears, and disappears again inside of you. His heart skips, and he bucks, breaking his rhythm. You undo him like no other, and it spurs him on that he too, seems to have the same effect on you. The way your pussy holds on to him so tightly, the helpless cries of his name amidst your hiccuped whimpering… 

He lets out a small chuckle, breath hot and ragged in your ear as he sucks at the inch of skin below. “Surely you can give me another,” he murmurs, the low grumble of his voice reverberating all the way down, until you can feel the vibrations in the hollows of your collarbone. 

Your eyes flutter, desperately blinking away the wetness that has begun to gather at your lash line. Sweet Neuvillette, your Neuvillette who reveres you more than he ought to and touches you like you’re made of glass. Even through the numbing haze, you know that for him, you’d give anything. 

A long, stuttered moan breaks out from between your lips. As if biding his time, he drags the entirety of his cock along your walls, the large vein that wraps around the length gliding along just right, that your back arches and your knees bend. It’s not that he means to move so tortuously slow, but you squeeze him to such an extent that in spite of his aching need to cum, he cannot help but try and savor the delicious way your walls are gripping for dear life. 

Neuvillette pulls out with the sticky squish of your slick. His throbbing cock, long and flushed, glistens with the sheen of your juices. In the emptiness, you think that perhaps he’s taken pity on you and your now overly sensitive cunt, but that just isn’t fair. Not to him, nor you and your once again looming orgasm.

“You haven’t even cum yet,” you gasp, trying to argue through baited breath. The whole point of this was so that he could feel just as good as he always made sure you did. So why would he—

“I know.” 

You can feel him as he lifts you, flipping you over like you’re nothing more than a doll, and manhandles you onto all fours. Limbs weak, mind frazzled, you’re barely able to hold yourself up, so when he realigns himself at your entrance and slams back through your folds with just as much power as before, you quite literally fall apart. 

“Too much?” The low chuckle in your ear is dangerously taunting, wickedly amused and with no sign of its usual sweetness. You’re able to muster a pitiful whine, but the way your entire body trembles tells him everything he needs to know, as he reangles you mid-thrust.

“I believe you said you could take it.” With a particularly powerful snap of his hips, your arms buckle, and you collapse onto the mattress. The intensity continues to send you jolting forward, but his reaffirmed grip on your waist holds your hips in place.

Nothing deters him as he ruts into you, hitting deep new angles that have your fingers grasping at the sheets while your cunt grasps onto his cock. With every slap of his skin against yours, his tip threatens to kiss your cervix, the aftershocks rippling through you until they’re released as broken sobs, muffled into the bed. 

How unfortunate that such noises, so very sweet to his ears, would be hidden from the world. Tangling his fingers along your scalp, Neuvillette tugs at your hair, lifting your head back so as to hear the pretty melody you sing when your cries ring around the room. Good. Just as the whole of Fontaine should recognize a dragon’s mark on your skin, they too should hear it’s he who pleasures your body so.

Little bits of drool trickle out of your open mouth, your eyes rolling back as he keeps up the brutal pace. Everything feels too overwhelming, yet so tantalizingly good, that your back curves and you’re creaming around him again. 

Electricity shoots through your veins, your lungs desperately racing to catch up with the rapid beat of your heart. The stars painted across your vision drop down to your stomach, exploding with an intensity that rattles you to your core. It’s a flood with no remorse—taking and leaving nothing in return, easily washing away any and all thoughts, until you’re left mewling the name of the only one who could ever give you such a sweet taste of heaven. 

But Neuvillette continues to thrust into you, and as he, too, nears his peak, his tireless strokes finally melt into something a little more forgiving. Just a little. The long drag of his cock slides so smoothly against your slick walls, gentle enough to fool your delirious mind into loosening your grip around him. 

What trickery from the wicked dragon who slams his hips forward with enough force so that your body jostles with every push and pull as he hits all the right spots again and again. Trapped under the weight of his body, all you can do is feel: the heat of the room smothering all your senses, the fervorous thrusts pushing you to your very limit—all you can do is feel and take it as he kisses the spongy head of your cervix, leaving you without a semblance of sanity, blabbering indiscernible nothings that beg to milk him dry.       

“Want more,” you keen, voice as broken as the crystalline tears that roll down your cheeks and melt into the pillows. “Inside. Wan’ it inside.”

Neuvillette laughs, low and airy, strained as his grip tightens, fingertips digging into your hips hard enough that it’d be sure to leave bruises come the morrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Please, please I–” You stop to let out something between a pant and a moan. “Want you to, h-hah, cum inside, wan’ your cum inside me.” Your walls clamp down even harder, as if attempting to trap his cock deep inside you forever, as if you weren’t already tight enough around him. 

White fills his vision, and white fills your womb as Neuvillette cums to the knowledge that you love this. He takes in the sight of you, his precious treasure, now reduced to the likes of a common whore: legs quivering, ass in the air, cunt filled to the brim and leaking from where the two of you merge. All for him. By his doing. 

Such splendor automatically evokes the instinct to claim you in a way far beyond that of human understanding… but you’ve already let him indulge more than enough tonight; he couldn’t possibly ask for more. 

You whimper when you feel him stir again inside you, careful as he brushes past your too-sensitive folds, but even such simple movements hazard to relight the flicker of arousal once again. Every ridge and vein, drawn out so agonizingly slow, sends an inadvertent shiver down your spine until he finally pulls out with a squelch.  

There’s no hope in tearing those sharp, reptilian eyes away from your puffy cunt, abused and messy and leaking with your combined fluids. Neuvillette sucks in a breath, trying to suppress his urges as much as he’s trying to swallow down the desire quickly boiling over in his belly again. Cumming inside you—no, breeding you—was a privilege. For dragons such as he, it’s a ritual reserved only for mates, and given the difference in your physiology, he had never allowed himself to do so—at least not until now, that is. 

In his defense, you had begged for it, and how could he ever deny the very one whom he has entrusted his heart to—especially when you were so beautifully fucked out and unraveled on his cock like that. And perhaps he’s lived among humans long enough to forgive this indulgence as a paradigm of fleeting desire, though nothing of what he feels for you could ever be considered fleeting. 

He parts your folds with two slender fingers, giving himself a better view as his cum now seeps out with suent access. You whine again when you feel him drag his digits down the sides of your pussy lips, catching the overflow before it can fall onto the sheets, and stuffing it right back into your little hole. No point in stopping now, if he’s already committed his sin.

From your half-lidded gaze, you manage to steal a glance at your lover, and judging from the erection that still stands stiff as a rod, he has yet to be satiated. In the attempt to break through the shadow of delirium, you lift your head, shifting your weight back onto your elbows, and forcing your battered body to turn just the slightest bit over. 

“You’re still hard,” you note through staggered breath, “We can go again if you want.”

Neuvillette looks down as if he hasn’t already been feeling the near painful arousal throbbing in his groin. Of course he’s still hard—how could he not be; you’re so complacent before him, offering yourself to him like that. But perhaps he is too soft-hearted, for he only lets out a reassuring hum as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“You were beyond perfect tonight,” he murmurs. “It… might not be pleasurable for you if I continue anymore. I can finish myself.” 

Lovestruck, you shake your head. “I can take it r’member?” Your large eyes, red-rimmed and dreamy, plead for him to use you—use you to his own content, use you so that he’d feel just as good as he always makes you feel. You nibble at your bottom lip, bashful. “You can even use your other form if you'd like...” 

Your words catch him off guard, and he immediately stills in a half-hearted attempt to collect himself as another wave of pure, unadulterated desire pulses through his entire being. Neuvillette swallows hard before letting out a slow, shaky breath. His cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath the creamy skin that now seems to gleam with a soft shine, revealing scattered patches of effervescent cerulean scales. You affect him more than you could possibly know, revitalizing such carnal urges that ignore his will and allow his body to react so enthusiastically.

“You’re sure…?” His normally polished tone is husked in a defiant strain. Despite the way his pupils are blown wide and wild with lust, conflict still swims in the shallows of his expression, made clear by the way his voice rasps as he desperately claws to retain even a semblance of his composure. 

The tips of your fingers trace the blue streaks that protrude from the crown of his silver head, now hardened into twin ribbons of ivory; his horns, delicate but strong, glow a luminescent azure—so warm and inviting in its radiance… You grasp them tight, pulling him down with you, as you fall back into the bed, his lips pressed against yours. Of course you’re sure. He’d never hurt you, your Neuvillette would never ever hurt you.

“Devious…” he whispers between kisses, your tongue and teeth clashing in a waltz of their own, as his body drapes over yours. 

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in this form, crossed somewhere between a human and a dragon, as beautiful as he is powerful. But it’s certainly the first time you’ve ever attempted to take him like this. He’s bigger in this form—you can already feel it as he grinds up between your legs. Longer. Thicker. Ribbed and embossed with the same pearlescent blue scales. Beautifully intimidating, just like the dragon sovereign himself. 

And as you continue to marvel, he lets his cock rest across your lower stomach, sizing you up. His fervor shines through in the way he’s already leaking a mess of sticky precum atop the smooth skin of your belly. A satisfied hum vibrates in his throat, clearly enthused. 

“This is how deep I’ll be,” he muses, almost apologetic of the incoming stretch you’d have to endure. “I’m beginning to wonder if I can even fit inside you.” 

Would it be wicked of him to admit, even to himself, that he enjoys the way you wriggle and cry just taking him in his human form? And yet… he’s forced to steady his breathing in a poor attempt at grounding himself—a task near impossible as you roll your hips up, ardently shaking your head no, outright ignoring the last out he offers.

“I will… make it fit.” They’re the last words you manage to wrangle out before being overtaken by the need to be full and filled. There’s no reason you should be so terribly, terribly hollow, when he’s right there. Neuvillette chokes back a laugh; your unyielding determination sends blood rushing to his erection, desperate to feel your velvet walls crowd around him again.

Finally relenting, he teases your entrance—running his cock up and down your slit, spreading your wetness, before slapping your clit with the tip—reminding you just how sensitive you still are. Gasping, you jerk away from the stimulation that once again taunts your nerves. Your hole, however, clenches around nothing, eager to please. 

But perhaps you’ve greatly underestimated just how big he is, because he barely makes it past the threshold of your folds, before the pleasure pain of the stretch begins to take over. That, and the overstimulation from your previous orgasms, already have you instinctively trying to snap your legs shut, but the firm hold on your thighs forbid you from doing so.

“Ha-ah N-neuvi—” A twisted sense of pride swells in his chest at the way you can hardly speak as your breath hitches and your lungs desperately search for air. “’s too big,” you sob.

He gives you a momentary reprieve to adjust, while his hand snakes down to run sloppy circles over your clit.

“More?” he whispers. 

It takes you a minute to respond, but he waits until finally your voice shakes with the violence of each hiccupped sob. “More.. please…”

A baritone hum sounds in his throat as he pulls forward, pressing wet kisses to your jaw in a quiet reassurance, effectively sliding a couple inches deeper, as he does so. “You can take it, my love. You’re so pretty like this.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, your hold eliciting a long, low groan from the dragon. Wherever you squirm, he follows, pressing more of his weight onto you, burying more of his cock into you. Each ridged inch that slides past your folds, seems to push the thoughts right out of your head, letting them dissipate into thin air until you’re left mindlessly moaning sweet praises to his name. 

Desperate to accommodate the unfamiliar enormity of his dragon cock, your walls ripple and tense around him, back arching into him, wanting to feel ever closer to the love of your life, determined to push your cunt to its limit for him. For your Neuvillette. 

Neuvillette. Neuvillette. Neuvillete. He’s all you can think about; him and his monster cock that seems to split you so deliciously open. It’s wave after wave of heat that sets your insides ablaze, soothed by the waters of arousal that have you begging for more, and restarting the cycle until he finally bottoms out, and you feel as if you’ve been electrified. You squeeze your eyes shut, but with the way his bulbous tip prods at your cervix, your mind goes blank, and the tears fall regardless. 

“There…” you pant, eyes glassy from the euphoria of feeling so incredibly full. “’s all in.”

“Yes,” he praises, softly. “Look at you, so nice and tight for me.” 

He wipes the salt from your cheeks, distracting you with a delicate kiss. His fangs are more prominent in this form; you can feel them as he grins against your lips, whilst whispering breathy nothings that tell of how good you are for him, how perfect, how he should be so lucky to have you like this, to have you as his. 

When your body eases enough, he pulls away, though the subtle shift of his cock still drags a pitched whine out from your lips. If he’s to be honest, he cannot tear his gaze from where the two of you are joined. It’s mesmerizing, hypnotic, to see how he splits you open, to feel how you mold into the shape of him, to imagine just how much your little cunt had to stretch so that he might rest comfortably inside.

Though, comfortable might be an overstatement due to the way your muscles tense and release so tightly around him, clamoring for more of his attention.  Eyes darkening with lust, Neuvillette smooths a hand over your abdomen, cerulean scales cold upon your skin.

“Can you feel me right…” He draws a clawed finger delicately across the skin of your belly, where his cock rests parallel underneath. “Here…”

He leaves more than just a faint line of red where his talon rakes. Yes, you want to say. You can feel the faint prickle of his claw on your skin, you can feel how the sharpness sends a shiver ringing through your body, and of course you can feel how he’s sheathed his dragon cock right into the very depths of your cunt, deeper than anyone’s ever been, deeper than he’s ever been… But the only sounds that spill through your lips are another stream of broken sobs, fever touched by how close you are to cumming just from being filled.

“Go on, darling. Cum for me.” He can feel you pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching in search of sweet release, yet he makes no additional moves to help you, leaving you to your own devices.

At this point, you can no longer tell if you’re making things better or worse, as every little movement knocks you into reaction—like dominoes toppling over until every piece of you has been unraveled. You writhe atop the soiled sheets for any sort of friction, but it’s too much when his tip knocks against the entrance to your womb. So you shift away, letting the ridges on his shaft graze against your syruped walls, inciting another wave of need. The scales continue to tip between ‘too much’ and ‘more’, until you finally work yourself into a delirious orgasm, on nothing but his cock inside you and your own incessant squirming. 

As you continue to ride out your high, Neuvillete finally begins to move, tearing himself away from your fluttering vice grip with a tremulous moan, because fuck you’re still so tight around him, still so warm and wet even after cumming for what? The fourth time tonight? Pressure lands heavy over your frame as he begins to rock into you, folding you in half as he does. 

He fucks you slow and even, stretching you out even more with every new stroke. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as this new position affords him the privilege to reach impossibly deeper. Despite his shallow thrusts, each drag of his cock still blooms an ache from all the hidden spots that he has no choice but to touch, though it’s quick to pass, as pleasure continues to coil in your belly. 

It’s so much all at once. You can’t take it, it’s too much. But the soul-shattering euphoria of being so utterly full, is unparalleled. You want more, you need more.   

“My pearl,” he whispers, though his voice is gruff, “my heart… I want to hear you.” 

And so you oblige him, wailing something broken and pitched and strangled, at the sudden snap of his hips, at the way he bumps into your cervix and seems to rattle your organs about. 

“F-fuck,” you cry, without thinking. Not that you can anyway, when the push-pull tide of his thrusts raises you to new heights of delirium. “H-ah god, fuck Neu–”

Another sharp, jutting thrust cuts you off as the dragon above you snarls, clearly agitated by your crass choice of words. “There are no gods to help you here.” Not in Fontaine where he rules, and certainly not here in his home.

There’s a feral wildness that shines in his bright vishap eyes, and his possessive streak flares—dragons have no natural inclination to share after all. It’s clear in the way his pace changes: faster, harsher, more ragged—a ferocity befitting of an elemental dragon ruler. But titles aside, he’s still your Neuvillette, and every move he makes is still laced with a tenderness, so as not to break you more than he already has. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands, dragging his tongue up the length of your throat.

“Yours. ‘m yours, Neuvillette.”

In and out, in and out. His long strokes guide the ridges of his cock back and forth through your tender muscles, leaving you to mumble mindless nonsense as you convulse and keen beneath him. Whatever pain you had felt earlier has long chipped away into undeniable pleasure as you near the precipice of yet another orgasm. Eyes glazed over in all consuming ecstasy, all you know to do is to chase your lust, and so your hips grind back, rolling together like waves in a storm. 

Amidst the flagrant wet sounds of your rabid fucking, you cum again, lashes fluttering as your eyes roll, muscles tight as they tremble from such rapture—so lovely, so beautiful. Your siren call of pretty cries spill from your lips, intermingled with weak babbles of his name. You’re so breathtaking like this in your post-climax haze: fucked out and cloudy-eyed, panting into the cool air as his slowed thrusts still rack up an aftershock of shudders.

Neuvillette bows his head, once again trailing wet kisses across your collarbones, before pausing to hover his lips right over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breath a familiar spot of comfort in this maddening pleasure. Perhaps it’s some sort of sixth sense unique to only the most attuned of lovers, ones whose souls seem to harmonize in perfect resonance, but there’s hesitance in the way he suckles at the spot, fangs ghosting over your tender skin.

“S’okay… you can do it.” Your soft, dreamy sighs of approval are accompanied by the languid tilt of your neck, jeopardizing more of your delicate skin to the dangers of his teeth. “You can mark me… w’nna be your mate…”

Choking back a moan, Neuvillette pistons thrice more into your cunt—pulling out until just his tip remains, and then plunging back into your gooey insides, sending you into another round of dizzying convulsions. His own orgasm follows, seeing stars as he places an amorous bite to the crook of your neck using only the flat of his teeth. 

With how deep he’s buried, ribbons of his cum shoot right into your womb, spilling out into every cavity, and painting your interior white. Warmth blossoms from the inside out. Your heart is full, mumbling happy nothings of ‘mates’ in between sniffles, while a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, thick liquid oozing from where he ends and you begin. His own chest rises and falls in jagged patterns, but his only want is to seek your lips, to drink in your mewls, and exchange sweet kisses, so that your soul and his, may meld together as they dance in the shape of your breaths intertwined.

He strokes your hair, planting easy kisses all around as he unplugs himself, letting loose the flood of cum that seeps out of your hole, but you whine at the loss, wanting nothing more than to be ever close to your newly consummated mate. Neuvillette only nuzzles into your neck, deep purrs of content reverberating from his chest as he lazily rubs his scent all over you. Meanwhile, a quick swish of his sapphire tail up the sticky underside of your thigh, teases another pulse from your cunt, and by reflex, you push out another dollop of white. 

A small tap tap to his shoulder distracts him from his scenting, and he looks up with a tilt to his head and a small furrow to his brow, his normally sharp eyes full of earnest concern, relaxing only once he finishes reading through the bleary, dulcet tones of adoration that glow in your half-lidded eyes. You poorly suppress your little giggles—although he often disagrees, your lover really can be quite adorable. 

Fontaine’s Iudex Neuvillette is elegant, poised, and meticulously polished… but here in the quiet night hours, in the privacy of your hearth, your Neuvillette is unruly-haired and damp-skinned from satiating the beastly desires of his still tender heart. You reach out a tired arm, first brushing back the pieces of hair that cling to his skin, then wrapping your palm around to cup his face. 

“Was I a good mate?” Your hand slips down from his cheek to play with the tips of his silvery hair. “W’nna be the best for you.”

“You already are the best for me.” His hand, no longer clawed nor scaled, brings yours back up for a kiss to your knuckles. “The only one for me.” 

He rolls off of you, sweeping you into his embrace, as he carries you off to the bathroom. Your head rests heavily against his chest, but your happy hums and quiet murmurs of ‘good,’ tell him that you have not drifted off into slumber just yet.  

“You truly are a wonder,” he breathes, dipping his head to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it would be my honor to have you as my mate… but not tonight.”

His instincts had urged him to do it, to permanently claim you as his, and mark you as a dragon would, but his heart vehemently disagrees. The most sacred bond known to his kind is an ultimatum in your relationship, and it is one he refuses to be the sole architect of, so perhaps the two of you can revisit this conversation again once you’re more clear-headed; his answer would remain the same anyways.

notes2: thank you for reading, reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

© swansolstce — do not feed into AI, steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[sephsdarling]

An Experiment

With the project to create the perfect S-cell clones failing, a new project is enacted in order to make the next super-SOLDIER. One that involves you and Sephiroth.

❀ ˚₊· ➳❥ word count - 4486

❀ ˚₊· ➳❥ warnings - smut, sane!/pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth, female reader, porn with (light) plot, everything is consensual, forced mating/breeding, sex pollen-esque drug, virgin! Sephiroth, oral sex (fem receiving), thigh fucking, penetrative sex, creampie, various positions, love confessions, implied curvy reader

He won’t look you in the eyes.

In fact, he can barely look at you at all. 

In the neat, sterile room, Sephiroth stares intensely at the floor, unmoving, silently. Other than a polite “hello” when you’d entered the room, he hasn’t said a word to you. And based off of his body language, you can only assume guilt is what keeps him from doing anything.

You know why, of course. And you can’t blame him— but you agreed to this. So you can only hope he isn't putting himself at fault.

The science department, mainly Hojo that is, recently got approval for a new experiment. A continuation of some project you didn’t know the details or even the name of, aside from the fact that it now involved you and Sephiroth. 

They wanted an heir, essentially. 

Sephiroth was their best SOLDIER, undoubtedly. And so they wanted to ensure that they could continue this lineage of super-soldiers, directly from the best one, since it seemed the others wouldn’t be able to match his skill. This meant that Sephiroth had to reproduce with someone. 

And that someone was going to be you.

You still weren’t entirely certain of the ordeal, but you’d already signed the papers. They’d sought you out based on Sephiroth’s preferences, and made it clear that you’d be set for life if you accepted and the process was a success. The only catch was that you’d need to work closely with the research and development department so they could monitor the child’s milestones and whatnot, and then said child would need to join SOLDIER when they were of age. And with your hopeless situation, barely surviving in Midgar and your office job at Shinra taking you nowhere but an early grave, you accepted.

You wondered if you’d be put into an arranged marriage with Sephiroth, should you successfully become pregnant. You almost wouldn’t mind it; he seemed like your type, and though you’d only seen the SOLDIER during random encounters throughout the Shinra building, you’d only had positive experiences with him. You just wondered if he’d be willing to go through with it. 

Still, despite your initial agreement, you had an awful feeling things weren’t going to go as simple as they were presented. But you had no choice, really. 

So now here you are, standing in the room you’re meant to… mate with him in. But with Sephiroth’s unwillingness to move, you’re starting to think that this isn’t going to go anywhere. 

“You don’t need to feel bad for me,” you say, without thinking. 

Sephiroth finally looks up, a thin silver eyebrow quirking upwards. 

“I agreed to this. So… let’s just get on with it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t…” he mumbled, trailing off. He was very nervous, if the tone of his voice was any indication, “I don’t… have experience in doing these sort of things.”

“Oh,” you blink, pursing your lips. “Well, I can.. try to help,” you shrug. You’re not really sure if you can.

He still won’t meet your eye.

“Listen I’m not.. the best with this either, but you have to work with me.”

“It’s difficult.”

Maybe you should start being blunt. If he can’t be more forward, you’ll have to try doing so. Even if you struggle to find confidence. 

“Umm, well… Are you hard?”

“Excuse me?” He snaps, finally looking at you. 

His face is red with blush.

“I’m sorry for being blunt, but you need to be hard in order to…” you sigh. “Is there anything you want me to do? That would help?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “I don’t know what I like…”

But the way his eyes dart to your breasts tells you otherwise. 

Based on that and the way he’s blushing, you figure they weren’t lying about choosing you based on his preferences. You must’ve been his type, somehow. That knowledge gave you a slight boost in confidence. But certainly not enough to start stripping or flirting.

“Okay, well, I can… maybe show you various things, and we can see what works?”

He doesn’t reply, instead looking back to the floor.

“Do you two need assistance in beginning the process?” A feminine voice suddenly speaks over an intercom. 

You’d nearly forgotten that you were being monitored. Not directly watched, but they were certainly listening in. 

“Uhh, maybe?” you meekly reply. 

“An assistant will be in shortly, then,” she replies, voice even and almost emotionless. Do they even view you as people? Likely not.

Not even ten seconds go by, and a lab assistant walks in with two syringes. 

“A substance to help… move things along,” she mutters, first injecting you, then Sephiroth once he removes his arm from his leather coat’s sleeve. 

And without another word, she’s gone, and you’re once again locked in the room with him. 

You start to feel… warm. And fuzzy, then hot, too hot. Your heart rate picks up, and just looking at Sephiroth is making you start to ache with need.

You notice he’s breathing heavier, hands formed into tight fists at his side. 

After another minute of being uncomfortably hot, you start to pull your shirt off without thinking. “I can’t… too.. warm.”

Sephiroth watches with wide eyes as you remove your top, tossing it onto the floor and exposing your lace bra to him. You’d worn it on purpose, hoping it might help the situation, but now you just felt embarrassed and pathetic.

You’re quick to forget said embarrassment, though, when it seems he too finally snaps, and in a fury, rips off his coat and practically pounces at you.

His hands are all over you suddenly, and though his face seems embarrassed with a mixture of shyness, he doesn’t stop touching you. He grabs at your hips, feeling your soft flesh and kneading it in his palms, before they slide up and grope your clothed breasts. 

Se-Seph…iroth,” you breathe, feeling him pulling at your bra. But it becomes evident that he doesn’t know how to remove it, and so you reach a hand behind yourself to unclasp it.

He growls when it falls and exposes you to him. His back bends while his head dips down and he buries his face in your breasts, running his tongue all along your soft flesh.

His mouth is quick to find a nipple. He immediately envelopes one of your buds in his mouth and begins swirling his tongue around it, feeling it, tasting it. Then he begins sucking with fervor, as if he’s always dreamed of this; as if nursing from your breasts is the thing he cherishes most.

One of his hands, ungloved, fondles your other breast, feeling the squishy tissue between his fingertips and palm. His touches are so rough, it makes your head spin. Yet it all feels so good, and you know you need more.

While he continues sucking on your soft mounds, you attempt to unbuckle his pants. It’s difficult, as he wears two belts, but you eventually get them free and are able to unzip him enough to reach in and pull his cock out. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever seen, pale like the rest of him, and has a soft curve with veins that look like they’ll have you screaming. His tip is red and hot to the touch, so you begin rolling your thumb over it. 

He groans at your touches, biting into your tits and dragging his tongue over your nipple. Your head falls back as you whine, but you need more.

“Not… enough,” you gasp, squeezing his cock in your hand. “Need you… inside me,” you manage to get out.

Sephiroth growls again, finally releasing you. You only have a brief second to attempt to compose yourself, loving the way the cold air feels against your soaked nipples, when he suddenly pushes you against a wall, grinding his cock against your back. 

His head falls beside yours, hot breath falling against your face. As he holds you against the wall, one of his hands resumes its place on you, fondling and grasping at your left breast. “You’re so… pretty,” he grunts into your ear. “I’m sorry.”

“Fffffuck,” is all you can reply with, your cunt squeezing around nothing as your brain short-circuits. “Don’t be…”

He stops grinding against you for a moment, and begins to pull down your skirt and panties, completely exposing your body to him. He’s quick to follow suit though, throwing his boots away and tearing his pants and underwear off in one fell swoop. 

You expect him to begin pushing in, but instead, Sephiroth drops to his knees and pushes your legs apart, pressing his head between your thighs.

“Please… I wanna taste you,” he begs, sounding as though he’s on the verge of tears. Sephiroth quickly locates your cunt and starts burying his nose in your wet folds. “You smell so good…”

You try widening your stance a little, allowing him more room to kneel beneath you, this time facing towards you. He suddenly angles his head up so that his nose instead presses against your clit, and his tongue darts out to taste you. He feels around, before managing to find your hole, and his tongue pushes in without hesitation.

You cry out in pleasure as he begins swirling and curling his tongue within you, getting lost in how wonderful you taste. Sephiroth starts growling again, sending vibrations through your core. You begin shaking, barely able to keep yourself standing at this point. You can hardly believe he’s already bringing you so close to orgasm. It must be whatever they injected into you both— you’ve never been able to cum this quickly.

You grab fistfuls of his soft silver hair, tugging on them and using his head to anchor yourself. But it’s so hard, your legs won’t stop shaking, and you soon find that it’s impossible to keep yourself from rocking your hips. 

Sephiroth, perhaps sensing your weakness, grabs onto your soft thighs, squeezing the plush skin between his pale fingers. It helps to stabilize you, but also adds to the overwhelming sensations flooding over your body. You rest your forehead against the wall, panting and whining as he continues eating you alive. And when his nose digs into your clit as he gets more aggressive with his eating, you snap.

Grinding your cunt into Sephiroth’s face, you spasm and let out broken sobs, juices spilling all over his pretty mouth. He of course eats it up, getting sloppy as he unleashes more growls and snarls, his tongue curling within you, coaxing you into squirting some more. 

After a moment, you have to beg him to stop. You seriously think you’re going to pass out from how intense your first orgasm is.

“Seph! Ple-please stop,” you cry, pulling his hair. 

He comes to a still, pulling his soaked face out from between your thighs to gaze up at you. He’s drenched from the nose down, completely covered in your essence. His eyes gaze up at you softly and almost with a hint of worry. It makes your heart leap.

“Too… too much,” you pant, loosening your grip on his hair to instead pet his head. 

He nods, removing himself from the floor and standing beside you. “I apologize for asking such a thing,” he almost pouts, “but I really need some form of… relief.”

You glance down at his cock, still as hard as ever. It’s really so hard that it must be painful. 

“Um… you can use my thighs,” you meekly suggest. “That way… when you’re ready to ejaculate, you can easily get it inside me…”

You can physically see the effect your words have on him. Sephiroth shudders, his cock eagerly twitching at your suggestion. His face is a deep red, too.

Deciding to make the first move, you get on the floor and lay on your back, folding your knees up. Sephiroth kneels in front of you, situating himself between your legs. He hooks your knees over his shoulders, angling his cock to rest between your thighs. 

“I’m sorry if I’m… bad at this,” he apologizes again.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” you breathe, “that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

He blushes harder, averting his gaze. You squeeze your thighs together and cause him to gasp. 

He’s so cute.

“Just rock your hips… you’ll get the hang of it,” you instruct.

Sephiroth tries doing as you say, pressing his hips forward. You watch as his large cock pushes between the fat of your thighs, his perfect tip sliding out from them.

“Yes,” you praise him. “Keep doing that.”

He pulls back, not enough to pull his cock completely back between your thighs, but enough to stimulate it. And then he pushes forward again, and slowly works himself into a rhythm.

“Damn,” he hisses, gripping one side of your hips tightly whilst his other hand runs through his hair, pushing his bangs back. “Your thighs are so… soft. And lovely.”

You hum, feeling yourself growing addicted to watching the way his cock pumps between your thighs. It’s so mesmerizing and plain hot to observe. “How does it feel?”

“Rather… pleasant,” he admits, choking on his words when you squeeze your thighs together again. His facial expression causes you to giggle.

“You’re so cute,” you finally voice your thoughts, feeling yourself getting worked up again. Your cunt aches for him, desperately needing his generous length inside of you. 

He hides his face by looking down, allowing his silver hair to fall forward and cover it. But you can tell he’s not going to last long. His cock is twitching with every thrust through your thighs, and he’s breathing so hard… 

“You can… put it in,” you say, suddenly finding yourself growing nervous. 

His cock is huge. You know it’s going to be quite the stretch, but at the same time, you desperately need him. The effects of whatever you’d been injected with clearly hadn’t worn off, and you were beginning to grow just as frenzied as you’d been before he’d begun eating you out.

Sephiroth wordlessly nods, pulling his cock from your thighs just as you spread them for him. He holds it in his left hand, carefully finding your hole with the tip. And just from the head alone being inserted, you let out a hiss. 

“Oh my god… you’re so big,” you pant, a spike of fear panging in your heart. It’s going to hurt.

But Sephiroth can’t wait any longer. He lets out a sheepish “forgive me”, and pushes himself all the way in. You gasp and begin squirming, letting out strained whines. You know you just need to relax, but fuck, he’s splitting you apart.

Sephiroth groans at feeling your tight cunt fluttering around him, desperately trying to adjust to his large size, and he falls forward, leaning over you. 

And a half second later, he’s spilling his first of many loads into you. 

Even though you haven’t quite adjusted all the way, you immediately become much more aroused when you hear the way he lets out soft whimpers through his orgasm. You squeeze your velvety walls down on him, coaxing more of his seed into you. 

When he finally finishes cumming, you both lay there, panting. But you and him both know that there’s more fun to be had. 

“That was… a lot,” you sigh, feeling his large load within you. It’s so warm and fulfilling… you’re certain that this alone will be more than plenty to impregnate you. 

But Sephiroth is still incredibly hard, and you’re in need of another release. Whatever you’d been injected with was strong.

He slides out from your warm, fluttering walls, and you hiss at the pain from it. Your cunt isn’t relaxing, almost trapping him inside. But after a moment of struggling, Sephiroth is able to free his cock from your stretched hole.

But he only pulls away for a brief moment; to change positions. You slowly get up, your pussy aching as it readjusts to not having his cock within it. Sephiroth stands to his full height, and looks a bit lost.

“So… how else should we…?”

“Against the wall,” you request, almost too quickly. 

Sephiroth’s eyebrows flick up in surprise at how direct you were, but he obliges. You slowly make your way to the wall, legs already feeling a bit sore. It makes you ponder if you’ll even be able to walk once you guys are truly done. 

You feel Sephiroth’s still nervous presence behind you. He’s watching you closely, but does not touch you. It almost makes you want to laugh; he’d quite literally just dumped his seed into you, yet he remained bashful. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to do this,” he quietly confessed, right as you glanced back at him. 

“You’ll need to lift me. Hold one leg up and use your other arm to pull me up around my abdomen,” you instruct, hoping your description is clear enough. You’re growing impatient yet again, core dripping and throbbing as you wait to be stuffed.

It must’ve been, as Sephiroth is quick to do exactly as you tell him. He pulls you up and hooks your leg up in one fell swoop, pressing his body against yours to help hold you in place. His cock twitches against your lower back, still needy and erect.

“Good… now, please…” it’s becoming too much again. “Fuck, get back in me, please. I need it so bad,” you whine.

You gasp when you feel his tip press into your hole again, spreading you open as the rest of him slides in, far more easily this time around. The stretch is still there, but you don’t mind it anymore. It feels heavenly, and you almost think you’d enjoy having him drenched in your pussy for the rest of eternity. 

Sephiroth starts thrusting again, but he’s incredibly sloppy, likely due to his inexperience. The position you’re in is a bit more advanced, after all. But it doesn’t quite matter for him, clearly. He buries his face into your hair, hot breath fanning against your neck as pleasured hums glide from his lips. And when you squeeze your walls around him, he moans. 

The sound of him alone makes your heart race and your cunt flutter. Everything about him is so beautiful. 

He finally gets the hang of your new position, and picks up the pace of which he fucks into you. Sweet little cries begin to escape you, but you need more. You slither a hand downwards, and quickly find your burning clit with your fingertips. And as you begin to rub away at it, your soft cries turn into loud gasps. You’re not going to last.

“You… feel so heavenly,” he whimpers, holding you in a grip so tight you begin to feel faint. 

“Hhhh-aagh,” you lose your grip, fingers fumbling as you become too soaked to easily stroke your clit. “Please…” 

You let your head fall back, closing your eyes as you listen to the lewd squelching noise that occurs every time he presses back into you.

Sephiroth begins to tremble, his legs shaking as he struggles to hold you up while fucking you. Your tight cunt just feels too damn good around his cock, squeezing him with a grip that makes his head spin. “I can’t,” he pants, running out of breath.

“Hhhmm?” You barely register his words. 

“You feel too good,” he mumbles into your neck, that shyness still present. “I can’t keep up…”

“Then… let’s go back.. to th-“ you have to pause to catch your breath, “…the floor,” you finish.

You feel him nod beside your head, and you both crumble to the floor, slipping down along the wall until you’re on your knees. Despite yours and his exhaustion creeping up on you both, he gains a little strength back from not having to lift you, and resumes that hard-hitting pace that has you seeing stars.

You arch your back into him, resting on your forearms as his entire body weight crushes you— in the best way possible. You feel trapped, like you can’t escape him. And you like that.

Sephiroth’s hair cascades around you as he leans further over you, completely engulfing your smaller frame; and he fucks you like an animal in heat. His hips are relentless, cock twitching within your clenched cunt, his hands groping and squeezing at every soft piece of your delicious body. He growls in your ear, only stopping to pant or whimper. 

It’s like he’s gone into some kind of rage, unable to keep that feral desire down anymore. You don’t know if it’s an effect of the drug you were given, or if he’s simply too drunk in the feeling of your body, but it seems like his bashful demeanor has vanished. 

Soon, you feel Sephiroth’s cock start to twitch from within you. He’s about to cum again, you realize, as your own orgasm begins to rise to its peak. You let out soft, pretty cries as his thrusts get sloppier and harder, and you can feel him somehow pushing in deeper than before. An elongated whine leaves you while Sephiroth groans through his clenched teeth, and spurts of his second load begin pumping into you.

It’s just as plentiful as the first time. Large amounts of cum spill into you, igniting a hot, fulfilling sensation within your womb. Sephiroth holds onto your stomach tightly, pressing his palm against it and creating more pressure on your insides. You feel like he’s going to crush you, the strength of his hands and hips overwhelming your body. 

When he finally finishes stuffing a second load of semen into you, you both collapse fully, as Sephiroth falls beside you, one leg hitched over yours as he keeps his cock inside.

Your back is pulled to his chest, and he buries his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. And when you notice that his cock is somehow still hard, you know the drug’s effects still haven’t worn off. He needs more.

“I’m so tired…” you breathlessly whine, his cock occasionally twitching within your clamped walls. 

“I am, as well…” he whispers, hugging you tightly. “But I need… more. Please?” He begs, voice on the verge of breaking.

He sounds so desperate, so cute. There’s no chance that you could deny him what he needs.

“You can cum in me as many times as necessary,” you say, placing a hand on his arm to rub your thumb over his pale flesh.

It feels like an oddly intimate thing to do, but you figure it doesn’t matter at this point. You’re already bound to him for the rest of your lives.

He whimpers from your words, and with his diminishing strength, pulls you along with him as he rolls onto his back, all while keeping his cock sheathed in you. the movements almost hurt, but you’d be lying if you said you had no interest in being bred again. The feeling of his cum filling you was so… satisfying, like it was always meant to go there. So of course you couldn’t say no to more.

Just as he begins to drag your hips up and down, almost using you like a toy, you notice that his cum is starting to pool out from your cunt and onto his strong, toned thighs.

“Wait,” you gasp, causing him to freeze. “You’re pushing your cum out… I need to be on the bottom.”

And before you can even start to comprehend how you’re being flipped around, you find yourself laying on your back, legs pushed up and folded until your knees touch your chest, your bottom on full display, cunt in the perfect position for his taking. Sephiroth situates himself over you, reinserting his cock. He pushes his torso between your legs just a bit, until the skin of his pelvis can be flush with yours, and begins to thrust. Your entire body jostles back and forth with his deep, powerful thrusting, and you allow your eyes to roll back before closing them, your body already so spent and exhausted that you can’t keep up.

So you simply lie there, in the perfect position for breeding, allowing him to work away at you. His cock is hitting that perfect spot within you, and his pelvis is rubbing against your clit, rendering you immobile, other than to squirm and spasm. You feel like you’re in heaven.

However, Sephiroth is not far behind from you, clearly close to his point of exhaustion. His whines and groans are weak, coming out almost pathetically. The rocking of his hips is now at an uneven pace, still hitting as deep and hard, but slower, sloppier. 

You open your eyes for a moment to gaze up at his contorted face above yours, his hair falling around you like silver waterfalls. He’s biting his lip to suppress his moans, his cheeks and ears are tinted with a soft pink, and his eyes… his pupils are so thin, you can barely see them. He’s reached a point of bliss, and seeing him like that… it sends you over the edge.

You cry underneath him, tears beginning to slip down your cheeks as your cunt contracts around his length, your most intense orgasm yet wracking through your body. He twitches within your pussy yet again, and…

Just as Sephiroth begins spilling more of his delicious, sticky seed into you, he pushes his whole body down, his face finding yours as he seals your lips with a kiss. You cry into each other's mouths, swallowing one another’s sweet, pleasured moans.

You struggle to wrap your arms around him, but make it work. He holds you tighter, slowing the pace that he fucks into you, until his hips come to a stop, his cock completely spent and finally softening within you. You’re thoroughly bred, without a doubt soon to be pregnant with his offspring. 

Despite what you were both brought here to do being finished, neither of you pull away. You continue embracing each other, sweat clinging between your bodies, obscene noises echoing throughout the room as you kiss. 

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him tucked deep inside of your cunt, along with all of his cum. 

“Thank you…” you shiver, diving right back in for another kiss after you speak. “That was… perfect.”

Sephiroth doesn’t respond, but after a long moment of losing yourselves in each other, he finally speaks a hushed string of words.

“I know we only met today… but I think I love you,” he mumbles against your lips, hot breath falling against your mouth. “You’ve been so gentle… so kind.”

He sounds like he’s going to cry, so you kiss him again.

And as you part for a desperate breath of air, you press your forehead against his, and finally reply; “I think I love you too, Sephiroth…”

[kuroken-divorce-arc]

Ukai Keishin— Unexpected Addition

(post–timeskip domestic fluff, dad!ukai, team chaos)

│ practice was never ready for this level of chaos — or this much love.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

The text comes five minutes before practice:

Coach: gonna be a little late. start warmups. And then, another: Also don’t freak out.

Which is exactly the kind of thing that makes the entire team freak out.

They’re halfway through stretching when the gym doors slide open and Ukai walks in… with a baby strapped to his chest.

A tiny one. Wearing a fuzzy hat. Asleep. Drooling on Ukai’s shirt.

He also has a diaper bag slung over one shoulder like it personally wronged him and a bottle tucked into his back pocket.

The entire team stops.

Asahi drops a volleyball on his own foot. Hinata freezes mid–arm circle. Tanaka and Noya gasp like someone just walked in holding a bomb.

Tsukishima squints. “Did you… steal that?”

Ukai gives him the flattest look imaginable. “No, Tsukishima. I did not steal a baby.”

“Whose is it?” Sugawara asks, voice already pitched high and trembly.

Ukai adjusts the strap on the carrier, looking way too casually exhausted for someone who has apparently acquired a whole human.

“…Mine.”

Silence.

Actual silence.

Like the gym collectively forgot how to breathe.

Then:

“YOUR WHAT.” “NO WAY— NO WAY— THIS IS YOUR BABY?!” “COACH REPRODUCED?!” “OH MY GOD HE’S A DAD—”

Hinata is already halfway across the gym, sparkling like a deranged fairy. “CAN I HOLD THEM??”

“No,” Ukai snaps instantly, stepping back like a feral raccoon guarding a shiny object. “Nobody touches him. Nobody breathes near him. Nobody even thinks about thinking about touching him.”

Noya clutches his chest. “Coach became a parent and immediately became possessive. This is so hot—”

“Shut it,” Daichi growls.

Kageyama blinks at the sleeping baby. “He has… your eyebrows.”

Ukai looks personally offended. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Practice is a disaster.

Half the team keeps sneaking glances. Noya and Tanaka keep whispering, “He’s so small—” Hinata keeps accidentally serving balls into the ceiling because he’s too excited. Sugawara tears up three separate times.

Even Tsukishima looks briefly, microscopically fond… before wiping it from his face like a dirty smudge.

Ukai tries so hard to coach normally. He fails miserably.

Every tiny baby noise derails him.

A squeak? “Shh— shh— it’s okay, buddy, Dad’s right here— okay everyone stop yelling, he’s trying to sleep—”

A hiccup? Practice HALTS.

A sneeze? Practice ENDS.

By the time you reach the gym, slightly out of breath and still in your work clothes, the noise inside is unreal. Voices echo, shoes squeak, someone is yelling about “not touching ANYTHING,” and you’re genuinely afraid of what you’re about to walk in on.

But the moment you step through the doors?

Silence. Complete, instant silence.

Twelve teenage boys snap their heads toward you like meerkats spotting a predator.

Ukai turns too—shoulders dropping with relief the moment he sees you.

“Hey,” you say softly, crossing the gym.

That’s all it takes.

The gym erupts.

“OH MY GOD IT’S MRS. COACH—” “YOU’RE SO PRETTY WHAT THE HELL—” “YOU’RE THE CHILD’S MOM?? YOU LOOK SO COOL—” “SUGA I’M SCARED SHE’S LIKE OUT OF OUR LEAGUE—”

Suga smacks Tanaka. “She’s literally married to Coach— behave.”

You blink, overwhelmed, because you expected chaos… but not this adoration.

Noya drops to one knee like he’s greeting royalty. “Ma’am— it’s an honor— thank you for blessing us with Coach’s tiny offspring—”

“GET UP,” Ukai snaps, shoving him with his foot.

Yamaguchi waves shyly. “I—I’ve heard so much about you! It’s really nice to finally meet you!”

Tsukishima, adjusting his glasses, mutters: “She’s real. Wow. I thought maybe Coach made her up.”

Ukai throws a cone at him.

Hinata dashes forward— “CAN I SEE THE BABY— WAIT NO— CAN I SAY HI TO YOU FIRST— WAIT— BOTH??”

You laugh, trying to juggle your bag, your nerves, and the fact that your heart might burst.

Ukai steps in then—hands gentle, voice low— “Here. Let me… yeah.” He unclips the carrier carefully and lifts your son out before passing him into your arms.

The team gasps in unison.

“Oh my god it’s like watching a nature documentary,” Noya whispers. “Coach in the wild… performing father duties…”

Ukai elbows him SO hard.

Once the baby is settled against you, every boy instinctively takes a step closer— Then freezes when Ukai growls:

“ONE AT A TIME. AND NO TOUCHING.”

Tanaka puts his hands up like he’s encountering a wild bear. “We won’t touch!! We won’t even BREATHE!”

They all crowd around anyway—staring at you AND the baby with starstruck, emotional eyes.

“Coach,” Asahi whispers, genuinely misty, “she’s really, really beautiful. How did— how did you—”

Ukai pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to start swinging.”

Suga shakes your hand too enthusiastically. “I’m Suga. I’m the normal one. Oh my god I’m so happy you’re here—”

Kageyama bows at a full ninety degrees. “T-thank you for taking care of Coach!!”

Hinata nods vigorously. “And thank you for creating the baby!!”

Everyone turns to look at him.

“What?” he says.

Tsukishima sighs. “You’re not allowed to talk anymore.”

You cradle your son a little tighter, cheeks warm, heart full.

Ukai steps beside you, one hand steady on your back as he looks at his team, deadpan.

“Are you done.”

“NO,” they all shout.

They weren't meeting a stranger— They were meeting the missing piece of Coach they’d always wondered about.

And their awe? Their joy? Their absolute refusal to be normal about it?

It fills the gym with a warmth Ukai hasn’t seen in years.

Practice ends early. Not because the baby sneezed this time— But because the team refuses to let the moment go.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

[myoicche]

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐄. 𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ ⊹ ࣪

featuring ukai keishin .ᐟ

word count: 815 words, something short n’ sweet

content warnings: established relationship, inebriated!reader ⟶ questionable decision-making, hickeys, no condom (homie wasn’t expecting some cewch in the car lol), he kinda says “baby” a lot… idk the pet name is growing on me sorry.

author’s note: dawg this was rotting in my wips since 2024! and i have a burst of inspiration so i finally finished it. ifeel like my writing skills have deteriorated to shit, HELP (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Ukai was never letting you drink with Saeko again. He’d learned his lesson after Saeko looped you in with her drinking games and shenanigans. It was bad enough that you were a lightweight, but now he was finding out just how much of a hornball you could be with liquor in your system.

“Baby, relax with the hickies, you know I’m coaching the boys tomorrow.” You were waiting out the heavy rain in the backseat, the car tucked away in the corner of the bar’s parking lot. And well, it seemed that you just couldn’t wait until you made it home to get touchy.

Ukai wasn’t even a fan of hickies, he’d rather give hickies than receive them, but if it made you happy right now then he’d let it be. Turns out, you were sort of a crybaby when drunk too… lovely. When your lips make a detour from his collarbone back up towards his jaw, he pulls you back, “Okay, okay, I think that’s good.”

Your lips form a pout and he offers a kiss to appease your mood, one that you eagerly accept, cupping his face to deepen it as you grind against his lap. Sly, nimble little fingers begin to undo his pants, and your poor, intoxicated body could barely manage multitasking. Your teeth clumsily clashed with his, and your tongue missed its mark as you struggled with his zipper.

He should stop you.

To be fair he does try, a large palm resting over yours before you can figure out how to get the zipper back on track, but then you start to whine and give him those big doe eyes that make it so hard to say no… and the next thing you know he’s pulling on the zipper too, freeing his dick that you immediately take hold of and prepare to impale yourself on like your life depended on it.

“Fuck, one sec. Need a condom, baby” he groans and begins searching his pockets, all the while resisting the temptation of your raw pussy. You busy yourself with kissing his neck again, to which he rolls his eyes with a sigh and continues to fish out nothing but a lighter and some spare change.

He was taking too long.

“Don’t need one, Kei,” you slur into his neck. It’s so quiet he thinks he’s hearing things. You’ve always used a condom, per your request — not that he minded anyways — so it’s surprising to hear you say no.

“You’re drunk,” he starts dismissively as he continues his search. Did you even hear yourself right now? “I’m not gonna come in you without a condom, baby. You’re not on birth control, remember?” His finger pokes the center of your forehead like he’s trying to jog your memory. Silly girl.

“Just pull out. I trust you.”

He wasn’t worried about your trust… he didn’t trust himself. Keishin knew that if he allowed himself to experience your perfect, little pussy without a condom he’d never go back to using one, hell, he probably wouldn’t want to pull out either and that’s a mistake neither one of you could afford right now.

“Please Kei, I really need it,” you whine, lightly squeezing his length, thumb pressing against his tip in a way that made him throw all caution to the wind.

This was not good…

For what it’s worth, the liquor made you a better rider than when you were sober — and he hated to admit that, it felt wrong. Icky even. But damn, he couldn’t deny how you bounced tirelessly on his lap, or the excellent coordination that should've been affected by the numerous bottles of sake you had consumed. Sober you would’ve definitely tapped out and complained about needing help to ride him” by now.

It was kinda nice to not have to do all the work for once. His only concern was keeping his hands on your ass as a precaution, he didn’t have complete faith in your coordination right now. But the free feels were a nice trade off.

“Slow it down… there ya’ go. Just like that, baby.” His lower lip is caught between his teeth as he enjoys the site of you sliding up and down his length so dutifully. You’re desperate, trying so hard to get him off, drunk out of your goddamn mind. And for the record, he wasn’t a sober saint either, but of the two of you, he had half a mind to make better decisions.

Like lifting you off his lap and mercilessly stroking himself until white ropes of cum shoot on your tummy when his dark desires festering deep inside wanted it inside your wet cunt instead. He lets out a groan, mixed with orgasmic pleasure and disappointment, before letting his head fall back against the headrest.

No more drinking games. And always have extra condoms in the car, he notes mentally.

[theunfortunate-author]

[sentientsky]

repeating this to myself forever and ever

[hrrcanne]

10.24, kinktober friday three – older feat. keishin ukai

summary: after leading your team to multiple championship winnings and securing the nekoma's girls' first-ever intercollegiate title, you, nekomata's granddaughter and captain of the girls' volleyball team, join the summer training camp in tokyo with your players. struggling under the weight of family expectations, you clash with your boyfriend during the final days of training. one late-night encounter with coach ukai, however, turns shared frustrations into something neither of you expected.

cw: MDNI, nsfw, age gap, power imbalance, forbidden connection, implied? cheating, oral sex (character receiving), deepthroat, face-fucking, praises and a little bit of dirty talk, all characters are 18+

song: older – isabel larosa

tokyo, july 2012

the thick, humid summer air pressed against your skin, clinging to you like a second uniform. the nekoma girls' volleyball team hummed with the same restless energy as every other team at the training camp. each squeak of sneakers on polished gym floors and every sharp shout echoing off high ceilings seemed to amplify the weight on your shoulders. every eye found you. not just you, but nekomata's granddaughter, captain of the girls' team, the one always expected to have the perfect answer, the flawless spike and the unyielding composure.

they spoke of you as if you were born for the court, a living legacy, your grandfather's will made flesh. they never saw the way those words pressed down, a constant, invisible burden. your emotional intelligence, a double-edged sword, made you seem mature beyond your eighteen years, but it also carved out a quiet isolation. few understood the depth of your silent struggles. you were tired of being admired. you craved understanding, a gaze that saw beyond the name, the uniform, the relentless expectations.

and keishin ukai, karasuno's coach, noticed.

he moved with a weary grace, a man carrying his own inherited shadow. between drills, during scrimmages, his sharp and perceptive eyes caught the small tells: the subtle hunch of your shoulders after a missed receive, the way your hands, momentarily out of sight, trembled slightly just after a powerful spike. he knew that pressure, the kind that etched itself into bone and sinew. being ikkei ukai's grandson meant he intimately understood the heavy cloak of a legacy.

your first real conversation happened by accident, two ghosts crossing paths near the water station. the fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a harsh glow on the plastic cups.

"you've got that look," he said, extending you a cup. its rim slightly crushed in his fingers. "the one that says you've forgotten how to breathe."

you took the cup, the cool plastic a small comfort against your fingertips. a thin smile, practiced to perfection, stretched across your lips. "guess it runs in the family."

he leaned against the wall, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. a weary sigh escaped him. "yeah. tell me about it." his gaze drifted, a familiar, distant look in his eyes.

the moment passed, a fleeting whisper in the cacophony of the camp, but it lingered, a subtle resonance in the air between you.

that night, the tension, a tight coil in your gut, finally snapped.

after another long day of matches, drills, and the endless pressure to embody a legend, your boyfriend, ever the charming rogue, found you by the dorm entrance, a playful grin splitting his face.

"still married to the game, captain?" he teased. his voice light, meant to lift your spirits. "come on, kitten... lighten up! some of us actually enjoy our free time, y'know?"

his words, intended as a balm, landed like a brick. you were tired of being told to relax, tired of being misunderstood by the one person who, you thought, knew you best.

your jaw tightened.

"you think i don't want to relax, kuroo?!" your voice, usually measured, held an edge of brittle frustration. "some of us don't get to stop being serious. some of us don't have that luxury, y'know?"

the argument flared, a quick, hot burn, then died, leaving a stinging silence in its wake. he looked genuinely hurt, his playful mask cracking, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. the air between you, once comfortable, now felt sharp with unspoken words.

later that night, in the quiet solitude of your dorm, sleep refused to come. the walls felt too close, the air too heavy with unspoken expectations. you slipped out, barefoot, drawn by the soundless pull of the gym.

the main lights were off, but a single overhead bulb cast a soft, ethereal glow on the polished court.

you weren't alone.

he sat on a bench near the sidelines, elbows on his knees, head bowed. the familiar cigarette, still unlit, rested between his fingers. he looked up, startled by your presence, then gestured vaguely towards the court with a tilt of his head.

"couldn't sleep?"

a small shrug was your only answer. "yeah."

you walked further onto the court, the cool wood a pleasant relief beneath your bare feet. the silence stretched, not uncomfortable, but full of unspoken thoughts.

"it's a lot, isn't it?" keishin finally said, his voice a low rumble. he still hadn't lit the cigarette.

you stopped a few feet from him, looking at the net, a ghostly silhouette in the dim light. "what?"

he finally met your gaze, his eyes dark and discerning. "all of it. the name. the expectations. the way everyone looks at you like you're carrying the hopes of an entire generation." he paused, a wry twist to his lips. "like you're supposed to be perfect."

you let out a soft, humorless laugh. "'perfect'. i'm just tired." you turned to face him fully, your shoulders slumping slightly. "tired of being a symbol instead of a person. tired of every spike, every block, every serve being analyzed, not for its own merit, but for how it reflects on… the nekomata's legacy."

he nodded slowly, a deep understanding in his eyes. "i get it, trust me." a beat. then he continued, "i never really wanted to coach, y'know? not at first. it was just… what i was supposed to do. to not disappoint the man who raised me. the man who built karasuno." he gestured vaguely with the unlit cigarette. "then, somewhere along the line, it became something else. something of my own. but that initial weight… that's a killer."

a shared weariness, a quiet recognition, hung between you. you realized how alike you were, both born into legacies you never chose, both trying to carve out something that belonged only to you, something separate from the towering figures who cast such long shadows.

"guess we're both inheriting ghosts," you said softly, the words hanging in the hushed air.

he finally looked away. a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. "yeah. but at least you're still trying to outrun yours."

silence settled again, heavy but not suffocating. it was a comfortable quiet now, laced with an unspoken current, something neither of you dared to name.

when you finally looked up, his eyes were already on you again. not the way people usually looked at you. not as the captain, the prodigy, the legacy, but as someone who just… tired. someone who understood.

you broke the stillness with a wry smile, a flicker of something new in your gaze. "guys my age just aren't the same." the words hung in the air, half a confession, half a playful defense. a subtle invitation.

he shifted on the bench, a flicker of uncertainty in his dark eyes, his gaze darting from your eyes to the floor and back.

then, almost without conscious thought, he reached out. his fingers brushed against your temple, gently pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. the touch was brief, electric, a jolt of unexpected heat.

you didn't move.

neither did he.

your breath hitched, a silent catch in your throat.

"you should stop me," he said in a low, rough whisper, barely audible in the vast gym.

your eyes, wide and searching, met his. the current between you intensified, a palpable hum.

"i don't want to." you whispered back.

he swallowed, the sound loud in the sudden, profound quiet. your words, a raw, honest admission, were an unspoken invitation, one he'd been aching for without even realizing it. his hand, still hovering near your ear, slid down your cheek, and he traced the delicate curve of your jaw with his thumb. his eyes, dark and intense, dropped to your lips, a silent question in their depths.

it was like a dam breaking, slow at first. he leaned in, just a fraction, testing the waters. his breath ghosted over your mouth, warm and intoxicating. for a second, he hesitated, waiting for any sign of resistance, any flicker of doubt. there was none. just a soft sigh escaping your lips, a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of your head, a silent plea.

that was all the permission he needed.

he closed the last inch, his lips brushing yours in a tentative, almost questioning press. it was soft, a whisper of a kiss, a gentle exploration. but the current that zipped between you was anything but gentle, anything but soft. it was a jolt, a dizzying rush. you felt yourself lean into it, a small, involuntary hum escaping your throat, a quiet affirmation. that was when the last vestiges of his hesitation melted away, dissolving into the dim light of the gym.

his other hand found your waist, a firm grip, pulling you flush against him. the kiss deepened, a low groan rumbling in his chest as his mouth moved with more purpose, more hunger. it was no longer questioning. it was demanding. a raw, desperate need that had been simmering just beneath the surface, now unleashed. your fingers, almost on their own accord, tangled in his short, rough hair, tugging gently, a silent plea for more. he responded by slanting his head, deepening the angle, letting the heat build until it consumed you both, a roaring inferno in the quiet gym.

his tongue traced the seam of your lips, a soft, insistent demand. you parted them, a silent invitation, and his tongue surged inside, hot and eager, meeting yours in a swirling dance. you tasted cigarettes and something uniquely him, a faint bitterness, a deep, earthy warmth. your fingers tightened in his hair, a soft moan escaping your throat as his hand on your waist slid lower, pressing your hips firmly against his. you felt the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your stomach through the fabric of his sweatpants and your shorts, a throbbing promise of what was to come.

he pulled back just slightly, his breath ragged, his eyes dark, dilated pools. "god, you taste good," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his lips still hovering inches from yours.

your eyes, heavy-lidded, met his. you didn't need words. the unspoken desire, the raw need, was a palpable thing between you. your hand, almost instinctively, slid down his torso between your bodies until your palm cupped his groin. you felt him, rock hard and throbbing beneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants, a thick, insistent presence. he gasped, a sharp intake of breath, a low curse rumbled in his chest as you squeezed him gently. his hips bucked up, pressing himself further into your hand.

a slight, knowing smile touched your lips. you dragged your mouth from his, trailing kisses along his jaw, over the rough stubble, down to the pulse point in his neck. you nipped gently at the sensitive skin there, tasting the salt of his sweat and a faint hint of cologne. he groaned again, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through your lips as you kissed and licked the hollow of his throat. your hand continued its rhythmic stroking and squeezing through his sweats, earning more curses, more ragged breaths from him.

"fuck," he breathed, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back slightly, forcing your eyes to meet his. his gaze was intense, burning, full of a hunger that mirrored your own. "you gonna make me lose it, doll."

you didn't respond with words, only with a slow, deliberate lowering of your body. you slid down, kneeling in front of him, your eyes never leaving his. the innocent-yet-utterly-filthy look in your eyes and the deliberate bite of your lip spoke volumes. your hands, steady and confident, reached for the waistband of his sweatpants. you didn't rush, savoring the moment, the anticipation, the way his breath hitched as your fingers brushed the fabric.

he watched you, mesmerized, a low growl rumbling in his chest. your hands worked quickly, efficient, lowering his sweatpants first, then the soft cotton of his boxers. the air in the gym seemed to thicken, charged with electricity. as the fabric peeled away, revealing him fully, your eyes widened just a fraction, a silent acknowledgment of his impressive size. his cock sprang free, thick and long, already engorged, its head glistening with a bead of pre-cum. it throbbed, a dark, insistent presence, pointing directly at your face.

you licked your lips slowly and looked up at him again, a silent promise in your eyes. the raw anticipation and the sheer audacity of your actions made him curse again, a low, desperate sound. he tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of your head in a possessive grip, guiding you, a silent command.

you took your time, savoring the moment. you leaned forward, lips barely brushing the swollen head of his cock. your tongue teased the tip, slow and deliberate, circling it, spreading the pre-cum, tasting the salty, musky scent of him. he groaned, a deep, shaky sound, hips twitching on the bench. the calmness with which you moved, the unhurried exploration, seemed to push him over the edge.

"goddammit, girl," he growled, his voice rough with impatience, fingers tightening in your hair. and just as you opened your mouth to take him, he pushed your head down in a sudden, forceful movement. you gasped, a muffled sound, as he surged inside, hitting the back of your throat with a surprising depth. you gagged, a slight, involuntary spasm, but quickly adjusted, your throat working around him, accommodating his thick shaft.

"that's it," he breathed, his voice a low, raspy whisper, hips beginning to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "good girl. so good..."

he pulled back almost completely, then thrust forward again, driving deep, filling your mouth, stretching your throat. you could feel the rigid column of his cock, the thick veins, the velvety smoothness of the head. your hands, now free, instinctively went to his thighs, gripping them, steadying yourself as he began to pick up the pace.

the wet, fleshy sound of him sliding in and out of your mouth echoed in the gym, punctuated by his ragged breathing and your soft gags. he was relentless, his hips pumping, fucking your throat over and over, a primal rhythm.

"open wider," he commanded, his voice hoarse, a hint of desperation in it. "take it all, doll. take every inch."

you tried, your jaw aching, your throat stretched to its limit, but you didn't pull away. you wanted this. you wanted to feel him, to taste him, to consume him. you could feel the heat radiating from him, the raw power of his thrusts. his fingers remained tangled in your hair, guiding your head, sometimes pulling back, sometimes pushing you deeper, controlling the rhythm, controlling you.

"you're a fuckin' pro, aren't you?" he gasped, voice strained, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. "born for this, huh?" he laughed, a short, sharp bark, then groaned as he plunged even deeper. "god, your pretty mouth feel so good..."

his crude and direct words sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill of forbidden excitement. you swallowed, trying to take him deeper, cheeks aching. you could feel his soft, fleshy balls slapping against your chin with each powerful thrust. the scent of him, musky and potent, filled your nostrils, intoxicating you.

he was grunting now, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. his body tensed, a tremor running through him. "i'm close," he choked out, his voice barely audible. "so fucking close... take it all, baby. take it–shit–all for me."

his thrusts became more frantic, more desperate, hips slamming against your face nonstop until you felt a gush of warm liquid against the back of your throat, a hot, thick wave. he groaned, a long, drawn-out sound of pure release, his body shuddering violently as he emptied himself into your mouth. you swallowed it all, a thick, metallic taste filling your mouth, the warmth spreading through you. he stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment before slowly, reluctantly, pulling out. his body trembling.

you coughed softly, a small, involuntary sound, before looking up at him. his face was flushed, his eyes still closed, a look of profound satisfaction etched on his features. he sagged back against the bench, his chest heaving.

"fuck," he breathed, finally opening his eyes, a slow, dazed look in them as they met yours. "you're… incredible."

you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, a faint smear of his cum glistening on your skin. a quiet triumph bloomed in your chest, a sense of power you hadn't known you possessed. he reached out, his hand gently cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

"come 'ere," he murmured, his voice softer now, still thick with the aftermath of pleasure.

you rose slowly, knees a little unsteady, and he pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your hair. you could feel the lingering heat of his body, the faint scent of cum and sweat. you rested your head against his shoulder, listening to the heavy beat of his heart, a comforting rhythm in the vast, silent gym.

"you have no idea what you just did to me, doll" he whispered against your hair, his voice raspy. "no idea."

when morning came, the camp felt louder, harsher, as if nothing sacred had happened in the dim, hushed hours of the night. the fluorescent lights seemed to hum with a new, insistent energy. you and keishin didn't speak of it. you couldn't. the unspoken agreement, the shared secret, created a deliberate, protective distance between you, a silent acknowledgment of the line you had crossed. still, there was something changed in the way you moved, a subtle shift in your gait, a lightness in your shoulders. it was as if you had finally set something down, a burden lifted, even if only for a few stolen hours.

later that morning, kuroo found you by the water cooler, his usual swagger replaced by an awkward sincerity. he fiddled with the cap of a plastic bottle, his eyes avoiding yours.

"look, about last night..." he started, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "i… i was out of line. i didn't mean to upset you, kitten. i just– i don't always know what to say. i just want you to be happy, y'know?" he finally met your gaze, a genuine apology in his eyes.

you smiled, a real smile this time, not the practiced, thin one you usually offered. "it's okay, baby. i know." you forgave him easily, genuinely. but a part of you had already moved somewhere he couldn't reach, a space carved out in the quiet darkness of the gym, a space only you and ukai knew.

on the final day, the buses lined up, their engines rumbling impatiently, ready to carry the teams home. the court buzzed with laughter and chatter, the sunlight spilling through the high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. you climbed aboard the nekoma bus, finding your seat by the window next to your boyfriend.

you glanced out just as karasuno's coach stepped outside the gym. an unlit cigarette still between his fingers.

he didn't wave.

neither did you.

your eyes met for a moment, brief, wordless, a silent acknowledgment passing between you.

it wasn't just recognition anymore. it was a promise neither of you dared to speak aloud. a quiet, mutual wish that this wouldn't be the last time your paths crossed.

the bus lurched forward, pulling away from the camp, leaving behind the heat, the expectations, and the silent confessions whispered between the lines of white paint.

i know i'm younger as your lover but i've always wanted a man for the summer, age is a number my dear, i know you'll understand (think i need someone older)

you guys have no idea how excited i am about this one jdsdhsjhdajdhshd i think this is the longest one-shot i've written so far and i'm so happy about it! i rlly hope you liked it :)

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© 2025 hrrcanne (do not copy, repost, translate, or feed my work to AI without permission)

[showhay]

Hiii Hope your having a good day! Can I pleaseeee request smth with Coach Ukai? Ukai Keishin not his grandfather. Take care sweetheart stay healthy and happy!! ❤️❤️

ramen

— text keishin at 2 am and he’ll appear at your door with instant noodles like some kind of bleached-blond fairy grandmother in sweats.

ukai keishin x f!reader

c: fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff!! reader helps him with coaching.

would jump this man for free, not in a bad way ˆ𐃷ˆ

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

love doesn’t look like flowers. or chocolate. or serenades.

love, for you, looks like ukai keishin showing up at your door with two cups of instant ramen clutched like prized jewels, hair sticking up from the wind, breathless from running across town at ungodly hours, all because you texted him something as simple as “i’m hungry.”

there are couples who buy matching rings. couples who take aesthetic instagram photos at cafes. couples who plan vacations to bali.

and then there’s you, sitting cross-legged on your couch at 1:43 in the morning, while your boyfriend—your absolutely deranged, ramen-obsessed, you-obsessed boyfriend—slides steaming noodles across the coffee table like he’s just cracked the code to eternal happiness.

“this,” he says proudly, tearing the wrapper off chopsticks with his teeth. “is love.”

“it’s literally convenience store ramen,” you point out, squinting at the cup.

“it’s imported convenience store ramen,” he argues, stabbing the lid with his chopsticks. “imported straight from the corner shop i personally ran to at one in the morning for my perfect, precious girlfriend.”

he says it with such conviction that you can’t help but laugh, even though you know he’s half-serious. no, scratch that—fully serious. this is the man who treats your texts like divine summons. a single emoji from you could probably send him sprinting into traffic if it meant arriving at your door half a second faster.

you didn’t realize what you were getting into when you first started dating him.

back then, his clinginess was… subtle. manageable. kind of cute, even. he’d offer to walk you home after late shifts, text you goodnight without fail, bring you snacks at practice. normal boyfriend stuff.

but then one night, in a haze of hunger and boredom, you’d texted him:

you: wish i had ramen rn :(

he showed up seven minutes later.

SEVEN MINUTES.

you hadn’t even finished brushing your teeth before there was a knock at your door, and when you opened it, there he was—grinning, sweating, noodles in hand.

“delivery,” he said, like this was an amazon prime service exclusive to you.

you laughed so hard you nearly dropped the cup. but the ramen was hot, and he looked so proud of himself, and when he leaned against your doorway catching his breath, you’d kissed him for the first time.

and that was it. sealed. done deal. his brain hardwired that cause and effect together: text → ramen → kiss.

now you can’t untrain him.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

your girls think it’s funny.

“so let me get this straight,” kiyoko said once, eyebrows raised. “you text him… anything… and he comes running with ramen?”

“pretty much,” you admitted, sipping your drink.

“even at three in the morning?”

“especially at three in the morning.”

yachi gasped. “that’s… that’s like, romantic, right?!”

“that’s like unhealthy,” kiyoko muttered, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

you didn’t bother defending him. because yeah, maybe it was a little much. maybe normal boyfriends didn’t literally drop everything to rush to their girlfriends with convenience store noodles like their lives depended on it. maybe it wasn’t healthy.

but it was him. and you loved him.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

of course, keishin doesn’t see this as a burden. he sees it as his calling.

“what if one day you text me and i don’t show up?” he says dramatically one night, sprawled across your lap like a cat who’s had too much caffeine.

“i mean, i’d probably just… eat something else,” you reply, scrolling your phone.

he gasps like you stabbed him in the chest. “betrayal.”

“keishin.”

“utter betrayal,” he groans, throwing an arm over his face. “you’re supposed to say you’d starve without me.”

“you’re so dramatic.”

“you’re my whole life,” he insists, peeking at you from under his arm. “i have to bring you ramen. you think i’d be able to sleep at night knowing you’re hungry?”

“you barely sleep at night anyway.”

“exactly! now i’ve got a reason!”

and he grins that lopsided grin, the one that makes you want to kiss him and strangle him all at once.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the thing is, you do test him sometimes.

you’ll text him the dumbest things just to see what happens.

you: i’m cold

keishin: omw. with ramen. and myself. mostly myself.

you: i wish i had chips

keishin: store closed. but i brought ramen.

you: craving pizza

keishin: guess what i’m holding rn. ramen.

he never misses. and he never fails to add himself to the equation, as if the ramen is secondary and he’s the real prize.

(which, to be fair, is true. the ramen’s never as good without him sitting there watching you eat it like a man who’s just built fire for the first time.)

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

but tonight feels different.

you hadn’t texted him. not really. you’d sent a vague “ugh” at midnight, nothing more.

and yet—three-tap knock. your door creaks open.

there he is. ramen in hand. again.

“i didn’t even say anything this time,” you protest as he kicks off his sneakers.

“you didn’t have to,” he says smugly, setting the cups down. “felt it in my soul.”

“felt what?”

“that my girl needed me.”

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. because what are you supposed to say to that? it’s insane. completely unhinged.

and yet—your chest feels warm, like maybe you’d been waiting for him all along.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

you eat on the couch, legs tangled, his knee pressed firmly against yours like he’s afraid you’ll drift away if he isn’t touching you.

he keeps glancing at you between bites. not subtle glances, either—full-on staring, eyes soft in a way that makes you want to bury your face in his hoodie.

“what?” you ask finally, cheeks heating.

“you look cute eating ramen,” he says bluntly.

you blink. “that’s… probably the least cute thing i do.”

“nah,” he insists, leaning closer, chopsticks dangling from his fingers. “everything you do is cute. breathing? cute. blinking? cute. existing? devastatingly cute. i can’t stand it.”

your face burns. “you’re so embarrassing.”

“you love it.”

he’s right. you do.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the ramen’s long gone, cups abandoned on the table, but keishin doesn’t move. if anything, he edges closer, draping himself over you like you’re his personal pillow.

his hand finds your waist, fingers splayed like he’s memorizing the shape of you, and when you shift to look at him, he’s already watching—eyes heavy, mouth parted, expression caught somewhere between mischief and desperation.

“keishin,” you whisper.

he swallows hard. “yeah?”

you don’t answer with words. because then he’s kissing you, and it’s nothing like the casual pecks he gives you at practice, nothing like the quick goodnight kisses when he drops you off.

this is messy. urgent. hungry.

he kisses you like he’s starving and you’re the only meal he’ll ever want. like the ramen was just an excuse, and this—your lips, your warmth, your everything—is what he’s really been running to all along.

his hand slides up your back, pulling you closer, closer, like he’s terrified of space existing between you. the other cups your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, tilting your head just right so he can devour you deeper.

you gasp against his mouth, and he swallows it whole, pressing harder, hungrier, like a man who’s been holding back for too long.

it’s overwhelming. it’s perfect.

when he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, foreheads pressed together, his lips still chasing yours even as he whispers, voice hoarse:

“forget the ramen. you’re all i need.”

and for once—you don’t tease him. because in that moment, with his hands gripping you like a lifeline and his eyes burning into yours, you believe him, of course you do.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a: haha oh balls, i hope i got his personality right or i’m doing a flip off of the third floor.

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

iloveu

[sephsdarling]

A Submissive SOLDIER

Both you and Sephiroth have been feeling desperate, lately. But apparently he's been a little more insatiable than you, as you discover one evening.

˚₊· ➳❥ word count - 1700

˚₊· ➳❥ warnings - female reader (no pronouns used though), sane/pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth, submissive Seph, smut, masturbation, breast sucking, creampie, lowkey fluffy but still... nasty.

˚₊· ➳❥ notes - first fic of 2026!! and ofc it's Sephiroth smut LMAO

When you arrive home that evening, you expect the apartment to be empty, devoid of any life. The way it always is when you get off work. You go through your routine, turning on the lamps and setting your bag in the place you always do, on the kitchen counter.

You begin to wonder what you should cook for dinner, hoping Sephiroth will be home a little earlier tonight. They’ve been keeping him extra late as of recently, and it’s been killing you. All you want is to be with him, especially in more intimate ways as of recently. It’s been far too long since you and him have had the time or energy to have sex, and quite frankly- it’s been driving you nuts. 

You take off your shoes and coat, walking over to your bedroom to change into some more comfortable clothes, trying to decide if it’s worth helping yourself feel a little less desperate before Sephiroth gets home. Although considering you often struggle to get off without him, you begin to think against that idea. But you hear something- something so faint you aren’t sure that you didn’t hallucinate it in some craze from being too horny. You stop anyway, listening. 

“Mmph-“ 

A faint moan, coming from your bedroom. It’s distinctly Sephiroth’s voice, and your eyes widen. The one time he’s able to come home early and he’s… masturbating? 

You reach for the door, eager to see exactly what he’s doing. Is he stroking his cock, perhaps looking at a photo of you? But then you stop, wanting to listen to his pretty noises for a moment longer. You carefully press an ear to the door, listening with held breath.

He whines your name, hissing afterwards. 

You slowly reach a hand downwards, pressing your fingers against your clothed cunt. Though not much else happens, as Sephiroth isn’t generally that vocal anyway. Aside from the occasional groan and desperate call of your name, there’s no words spoken. No vocalized fantasy about whatever he’s imagining right now. 

Unless if you ask, that is. 

You carefully open the door, hoping you’re stealthy enough that he won’t notice. But of course he does, his senses far more enhanced than a regular human’s. He stares at you, eyes wide and cheeks dusted red in embarrassment.

You look him over. He’s entirely naked, sitting at the edge of your shared bed. He has one hand tangled in his hair, pressed against his head, and in the other hand, he holds his painfully hard cock, a pair of black lace panties partially covering his length. That’s the most surprising part, to you. Never did you think you’d see him using your panties to jerk himself off. It’s shockingly dirty for him, yet… you’re left pleasantly surprised.

“Seph… I didn’t think you’d be home so soon,” you sweetly say, slowly approaching.

He swallows nervously, but replies to you anyway, “training with the seconds went smoother than expected, so… I was allowed to leave early.”

“And you came home to… do this?” 

“I originally went and showered, although I found myself growing restless. You left your lingerie out, so…” 

You sit on the edge of the bed beside him, reaching over to pull his hand away from his cock. “So desperate for me, hm? You couldn’t wait for me to get home and used my panties instead…”

“Yeah,” he admits, sounding bashful. 

“Oh, Seph,” you take the pair of panties away, standing up to strip down and put them on. As you slide them up your legs, you can feel that they’re damp. You can see a little precum in them, but there’s a far larger wet spot on them. Did he…?

“Seph,” you ask, pulling them flush against your cunt, “were you by chance, um, spitting on these?”

He looks away, shamefully. He only nods.

“Aww,” you sit back down and pull him to lay with you, pressing yourself against him. You slowly run a hand over his bare abs, loving the way he shivers beneath your touch. “What were you thinking about?”

Sephiroth eyes your breasts, and your lips part into a silent “oh”. 

“Were you thinking about nursing from me, again?” 

He nods again, face growing more red with every question you ask. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how you mentioned that some women can lactate without being pregnant… and it got to me.”

“Ah. Well, do you want to try again and see if it’ll work?” 

A sharp, shuddered breath left him. “Yes,” he agrees, maybe just a little too quickly.

You both shifted the way you were laying, with you higher against the pillows while you practically cradled Sephiroth in one arm, his face level with your chest. Your legs entangled with his longer ones, and you carefully traced his thigh beneath your fingertips, teasing him.

“Go ahead,” you coax, watching him with heavy eyes as he presses his lips against your breast, taking one bud into his mouth. 

Sephiroth swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, suckling and gently using his teeth to stimulate it. You softly whine, your cunt clenching around nothing. He looks up at you, typically thin slitted pupils blown wide with lust. You have to bite your lip to suppress a moan, swooning at how good he looks like this, completely vulnerable underneath you. His cheeks are still red, body burning hot against your bare skin. He sucks just a little harder, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Good boy,” you praise in a hushed voice, removing your hand from his thigh to run your fingers through his silver hair. 

His cock visibly twitches at your words, the tip engorged and red, desperate for attention. You feel a little bad, leaving him without any stimulation, but you want to tease him a little longer. You continue brushing through his hair, alternating between doing that and cupping his cheek. He seems to melt no matter what you do though, craving your soft love. 

Eventually, you decide that he deserves something more, and run your hand down from his neck, over his chest and stomach. You let your fingertips glide over his own nipples, oddly sensitive to the point he gasps over your breast. Continuing to lower your hand, you finally reach his aching length. You wrap your hand around the base, sliding your palm up to the tip where you pause and run your thumb over his slit. Sephiroth whines against you, bucking his hips up into your hand. You giggle, continuing to tease his cock head. 

“Are you this desperate, hm? Gone too long without fucking me that you can’t handle anything?”

He carefully nods, opening his mouth and running his tongue all along your breast. Sephiroth returns to nursing, though, puckering his lips over your nipple and sucking. He places a few kitten licks over your bud from within his mouth, and you let out a satisfied sigh. Your mind goes to how he seems incredibly into breastfeeding from you as of late, and you begin to wonder if maybe with enough effort, he’ll get you to begin producing milk. Of course, Sephiroth could always impregnate you and speed up the process, but you aren’t so sure you’re ready for that. 

You begin stroking his cock, sliding it between your fingers and palm slowly, almost painfully so. Sephiroth begins whining and groaning more frequently, rolling his hips with each jerk of his length. Soon, you can feel his cock begin to twitch and pulsate. He’s getting close.

“You about to cum, Seph?” You ask, smiling down at him. “You wanna finish in my hand, or somewhere else? I’ll let you choose since you’ve been such a good boy.”

Sephiroth detaches his lips for just a second, eyes wide as he answers perhaps a bit too desperately, “please let me finish inside of you.” 

“Okay,” you say, freeing his cock momentarily. 

You lay on your back, spreading your legs as Sephiroth pulls the same panties he’d been using to masturbate with off of you. He wastes no time in aligning his cock with your dripping hole, pressing into you inch by inch. You moan underneath him as he bottoms out, completely stuffed inside of your pussy. Sephiroth lays his weight onto you, wrapping his arms around your smaller body as he begins to thrust his hips up, grinding his cock inside of your velvet walls.

“Faster,” you demand, and so Sephiroth places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer and increasing the speed of his thrusts- though he doesn’t pull out more than an inch. 

His tip drags along your cervix, and you cry with each movement, wrapping your arms around his neck, digging the heels of your feet into the back of his thighs. Animalistic growls escape him, ones akin to the noises he makes in battle. He isn’t lasting much longer, and neither are you.

You begin to kiss him, hot breath mixing with his own as you pant and groan into each other’s mouths. His tongue presses against yours, wet noises beginning to sound from both your mouths and your cunt. You can hear his balls slapping against your ass, loud and lewd, along with the squelching of the juices that spill from your pussy. 

With one final, deep and intense thrust, Sephiroth begins to spill his cum into your cunt. You both cry out, swallowing each other's moans as you orgasm together. Hot ropes of his seed fill you up, more and more cum pumping into you. His loads are always big and healthy, and this one is no different. You writhe as your cunt flutters around his softening cock, yet he doesn’t pull away once he’s finished cumming. Instead, you hold each other closely, dazed and exhausted. You can feel a mix of his cum and your juices begin to leak out from your hole, hot and sticky on your skin. 

“You did so… well,” you praise through pants, “like a… good boy..”

He smiles, practically purring into your neck. Sephiroth presses light kisses against your skin, deeply satisfied with tonight’s long-awaited session. And you’re certain that more will come quite soon, with how desperate you’ve been for each other.

｡ ₊°༺♡༻°₊ ｡

[myoicche]

[honeyroots]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ⌇JAKE SULLY.

warnings 𖨂 NSFW. MDNI. fem!reader, dacryphilia, p i v, soft!dom!jake, finger sucking, jake calls reader 'fussy'

“What’re you crying for, baby?” Jake questions as you ride his cock. The girth and length filling you up is overwhelming each time your core swallows his shaft. You’re on top, and even though you should be doing most of the work, Jake’s hands are placed under your ass to slide you up and down on him. It gives you a false sense of control, but you both know who’s really in charge.

“Mm— uh! Feels too good…” You finally manage to hiccup the words out, tears rolling down your cheeks as the tip of Jake’s cock pushes against your cervix, over and over again. The pressure of his girth, in a constant state of stimulating all your nerves, makes your body tremble. With shaking legs, you try to quicken the pace of your movements to maximize Jake’s pleasure, but Jake is quick to stop you— a gentle reminder that he’s the one who decides how fast you can ride him. You don't have to look down to know how wet you are, the sound of your arousal is loud and sticky as your cunt soaks his lap.

“Here,” Jake mutters, his fingers tugging on your bottom lip. Your face contorts with pleasure, mouth opening, allowing his index finger to penetrate your mouth. His digit is cool against your warm tongue, and your teary eyes snap shut as you focus on using his finger as a way to pacify the quiver in your jaw from the overwhelming feeling of his cock ramming into you. “That’s it, fussy girl. Just needed somethin’ to suck on, huh?”

[nottellingofname]

Kissin' And Hope They Caught Us ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

1711 - Ukai Keishin

WARNINGS: NSFW / Explicit Sexual Content, MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact), kenshin could be a good dad, breeding kink, Authority kink, slight exhibitionism, praise, possessiveness, scent kink???, teasing, brat taming, slight degradation, getting caught unfortunately

Nut Count (W/C): 6.7k nuts

The gymnasium lights cast long shadows across the polished floor as you gathered the last of the volleyballs into the cart. Sweat still clung to your skin from the day's activities—not your own exertion, but the humid residue of teenage athletes who'd filled the space hours before.

Beside you, Ukai Kenshin pushed a mop with half-hearted strokes, his bleached hair darkened at the temples with perspiration, his sharp eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion.

You knew the weight he carried: the store all day, the team all evening. But at least he had you.

His secret. His relief.

"You did well today," you said, voice echoing in the emptying space. "The way you handled Nekoma's attacks—you're really bringing our crows up to their level."

Ukai grunted, a sound you'd learned to interpret as appreciation. His calloused fingers gripped the mop handle, knuckles whitening briefly before relaxing.

You watched the subtle flex of muscle beneath his tracksuit jacket, remembering how those same hands had gripped your thighs last night, leaving phantom bruises you'd traced alone in the shower this morning.

No one on the team knew.

To them, you were merely Takeda-sensei's efficient assistant, the one who'd somehow convinced the reluctant Ukai to coach the fallen powerhouse school. They believed you stayed to ensure he remained committed. They didn't know it was Ukai who kept you tethered, collared by desire neither of you could explain or resist.

"The kids deserve an early night," you'd announced after the final whistle, gathering your clipboard as the teams lined up for their customary bows. "Both teams played exceptionally well. Karasuno, treat yourselves to something good—coach's orders."

You'd caught Ukai's raised eyebrow, the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth as you volunteered his implied permission. But he hadn't contradicted you, merely fished out his wallet and handed Daichi enough yen to feed the ravenous team, muttering something about "keeping receipts" that made the captain bow with solemn promise.

Nekoma's coach had followed suit, and both teams had filed out with renewed energy, their exhaustion temporarily forgotten in the promise of food. Takeda-sensei had excused himself for a faculty meeting, leaving you and Ukai alone to restore order to the gym.

Now, as you wheeled the ball cart toward the storeroom, you felt Ukai's eyes following you, tracing the line of your back, lingering on the curves his hands had memorized.

"The way you corrected Hinata's receiving stance today," you continued, breathing slightly faster though you tried to keep your voice casual. "You've got this natural way of teaching that reminds me of—"

"The nets need taking down," Ukai interrupted, his voice rough-edged like stone against skin. He abandoned the mop and moved to the volleyball posts, reaching up to untie the cords with practiced efficiency.

You joined him, standing close enough that your arm brushed his as you reached for the opposite side. The touch sent electricity through your clothing, a current so familiar yet never diminished.

"As I was saying," you persisted, "you've got this paternal quality when you coach. The way you scold them but build them up at the same time."

Ukai's fingers fumbled slightly with the knot, a rare disruption in his usual dexterity. "I'm just doing what needs doing," he muttered, finally freeing the net and beginning to fold it with mechanical precision.

You followed his lead, matching his movements as you'd done countless times before, both on and off the court. The net between you became a tangible connection, each fold bringing your hands closer together.

"My father used to coach me in martial arts when I was young," you said, voice softening with memory. "He had that same look you get—that intensity, like nothing else matters except making sure you improve."

The storage room was small, crowded with equipment from every school sport. Ukai moved with economical grace between the shelves, placing the folded net in its designated spot. You handed him the pole components one by one, watching as he arranged them meticulously.

"I never thought I'd find that quality attractive," you continued, leaning against a stack of gym mats. "But watching you with the team, seeing how naturally you step into that role... it makes me wonder what kind of father you'd—"

Ukai's hand stilled on the metal pole. Though his back was to you, you could sense the sudden tension in his shoulders, the way his breathing changed—shorter, more controlled.

"You'd be so good with kids," you said, your voice dropping to something more intimate. "Your own kids, I mean. The way you balance discipline with encouragement, how you know exactly when to push and when to—"

"Hand me those stopwatches," he said, voice tight, pointing to a shelf near your head.

You reached up, the movement lifting your shirt slightly, exposing a strip of skin at your waist. From the corner of your eye, you caught Ukai watching, his gaze fixed on that small revelation. You took longer than necessary, stretching deliberately, feeling the weight of his attention like a physical touch.

"As I was saying," you continued, voice honey-slow as you handed him the watches, letting your fingers brush his, "you have this natural fatherly instinct that's... sexy."

Ukai busied himself with organizing the stopwatches, though they were already perfectly arranged. His jaw worked silently, muscles tightening beneath the stubble you'd felt scraping against your inner thighs just hours ago.

"I keep thinking about it," you pressed on, moving closer, your voice dropping to a near-whisper. "How you'd be with your own child. Patient. Firm. Teaching them to play, to stand, to walk..."

A whistle fell from the shelf, rolling across the floor. Neither of you moved to retrieve it.

"The kids look at you like you're something special," you said, your back now against the storage shelves as Ukai seemed to grow larger in the confined space, though he hadn't moved. "Like you have all the answers. Like you could guide them anywhere."

The fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting momentary shadows across Ukai's features. In those brief flashes of darkness, his face transformed—the coach's disciplined mask slipping to reveal a raw, animal need in his eyes. Not just desire for your body, but for what your bodies could make together.

His silence was your answer. The way his hands moved methodically, rearranging equipment that needed no adjustment. The deliberate distance he maintained, as if proximity might break his resolve. His focus was singular now, his thoughts transparent to you after months of learning his body's language.

Ukai Kenshin wanted to make you a mother.

The realization dampened your thighs before he'd even touched you.

He moved suddenly, like a storm breaking after hours of threatening skies. One moment you were leaning against the metal shelving, the next your back hit the concrete wall with Ukai's body pressed flush against yours.

His breath came hot against your ear, fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth. The controlled restraint he'd maintained while organizing equipment evaporated, replaced by something feral and consuming.

"Been thinking about this all fucking day," he growled against your skin, lips brushing the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. "Watching you bend over to help that first-year with his receives. Standing there with your clipboard, looking so goddamn professional."

His teeth grazed your pulse point before latching on, sucking hard enough to mark you. The pain blossomed into pleasure as his tongue soothed the spot, then moved to create another. You gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders, feeling the coiled muscle beneath his tracksuit.

"Kenshin," you breathed, your body arching into his despite your next words. "We're still at school. Someone could—"

"Let the kids loose with my credit card," he mumbled against your collarbone, where he'd pulled your shirt aside to access more skin. "Told Daichi to take them to that barbecue place across town. They won't be back for at least an hour." His lips curved into a smirk against your skin. "Besides, Takeda's in meetings till seven."

His confidence in your privacy loosened something in your chest, allowing the desire that had been building all day to flood your system. Your hands slid into his bleached hair, still damp with sweat from practice, tugging just hard enough to make him grunt with pleasure.

"Anyone ever tell you you talk too much, Coach?" you whispered, using the title you knew drove him wild when you were alone.

Ukai's response was wordless. He bent slightly, hands sliding down to grip behind your thighs, and lifted you as if you weighed nothing. Your back pressed harder against the cold concrete wall, the contrast with his body heat making you shiver. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing behind his back, pulling him closer.

He rocked against you once, deliberately, making you moan. Then his mouth was back on yours, tongue pushing past your lips without preamble. He tasted of the energy drink he'd sipped during practice, a faint sweetness undercut by something smokey—a flavor you'd become addicted to over the months of your secret relationship.

His kisses were never gentle, never hesitant. Ukai approached sex the way he approached volleyball strategy—with complete confidence and an intuitive understanding of what would work. His tongue traced the roof of your mouth before retreating, teeth capturing your bottom lip and tugging until you whimpered.

When he finally broke away, you were both breathing heavily. He didn't waste time, his mouth tracking a burning path down your jaw, your neck, to the exposed triangle of skin where your blouse opened.

His stubble scraped deliciously against your sensitive skin, leaving a trail of redness that would fade before morning—unlike the deeper marks he'd sucked into your neck, which you'd need to cover with makeup and high collars.

"Wanted to bend you over during practice," he muttered between kisses, his voice rougher than the gymnasium floor. "When you were showing Hinata that receiving position. Thought about ripping those pants of yours, taking you right there with the team just outside."

One of his hands moved from supporting your thigh to slip beneath your blouse, calloused fingers tracing patterns on your ribs before cupping your breast through your bra. His thumb swept across your nipple, already hardened against the fabric, and you arched into his touch.

"You shouldn't think such things," you gasped, even as your body betrayed your words by pressing more firmly into his hand. "You're supposed to be a responsible adult."

"Hard to be responsible when you're around," he growled, squeezing your breast before his hand traveled higher, pushing your shirt up to expose your stomach. "Hard to be anything but fucking desperate."

Your own hands weren't idle, pushing his tracksuit jacket off his shoulders, where it caught at his elbows since he refused to release you to remove it properly. You tugged at his t-shirt, sliding your hands beneath to feel the taut muscles of his back, the ridges of his spine, the slight dampness of sweat that still clung to his skin.

His hand abandoned your breast to join his other at your waist, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your pants. His fingers dipped below, brushing against your underwear, finding the dampness that had been building since you first felt his eyes on you in the gym.

"Fuck, you're wet," he groaned, voice strained with need. "Always so ready for me."

But as his fingers slipped beneath the elastic of your underwear, you suddenly stiffened, a different concern breaking through your haze of arousal.

"Wait," you said, pressing a hand against his chest. "We both smell like the gym. I'm all sweaty from running around with the team all day. I should shower before we—"

Ukai's fingers had already found your center, sliding through your folds, gathering your wetness. The sensation made you stutter to a halt, a moan escaping despite your protests.

"You think I care about that?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous as his middle finger circled your entrance teasingly. "You think I don't get hard thinking about how you smell after a day of work? Raw. Real."

His finger pushed inside you, making you gasp and clutch at his shoulders. The intrusion was sudden but welcome, your body accepting him easily, eagerly.

"But I—" you tried again, even as your hips rocked against his hand instinctively.

"I can feel how much you don't really care," he interrupted, adding a second finger, curling them inside you in a way that made your eyes flutter closed. His palm pressed against your clit, creating a delicious friction as he began a steady rhythm with his fingers. "Your body's telling me everything I need to know."

You grumbled something incoherent about hygiene, but your complaints dissolved into moans as his skilled fingers worked inside you, his other hand still supporting your weight against the wall.

Your resistance was performative at best; you both knew it. Your pulse quickened at the sound of distant voices echoing down the hallway—probably just the janitor, but the possibility made your thighs clench tighter around him.

His fingers curled deeper, drawing a gasp from your throat that you muffled against his shoulder, tasting salt and the fabric softener he always used. The locker room's familiar scent of floor cleaner and sweat wrapped around you both like a secret you shared, his stubble scraping deliciously against your neck as you whispered, "We shouldn't," even while your hips rocked harder against his hand.

Within minutes, his hand was drenched with your fluids, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as he drove you closer to the edge.

Ukai's lips curled into that infuriating smirk—the one that made you want to both slap him and kiss him senseless. His fingers slowed inside you, the delicious rhythm faltering deliberately.

"Why? Do I smell bad too, then?" he drawled, eyebrow raised in mock offense. His hand began to withdraw from between your thighs, leaving you aching and empty.

"If you're so concerned about hygiene, maybe we should stop altogether. Go home. Take separate showers..."

"No!" The word escaped you before you could temper your reaction, embarrassingly desperate.

Your inner walls clenched around nothing as his fingers slipped out completely, leaving you oh so empty. The cool air of the storeroom rushed between your bodies as Ukai leaned back slightly, his expression smug as he watched your face contort with frustration.

"No?" he echoed, voice dripping with false innocence. He held up his hand, fingers glistening with your arousal in the harsh fluorescent light. "Seems like your body and your mouth are saying different things."

Your thighs tightened around his waist, trying to pull him closer again, but he resisted, maintaining that maddening distance. Your pride warred with your desire, but desire was winning handily—had been winning since you'd watched him command the court today, voice sharp with authority as he directed the team.

"Please," you whispered, the word falling from your lips like a surrender. "Don't stop."

Ukai tilted his head, studying you with those sharp eyes that missed nothing—not on the court, not in bed. "But you just said—"

"I know what I said," you interrupted, voice strained. Your hands fisted in his t-shirt, pulling at the fabric. "But I need... I need you to keep going."

His free hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. The gesture would have seemed tender if not for the calculating look in his eyes. "Tell me why I should," he demanded softly. "Convince me."

You knew this game.

Your mind flashed to last week's midnight phone call, when he'd kept you on the edge for twenty torturous minutes, refusing to let you finish until you'd described—in explicit, stumbling detail—exactly what you wanted his tongue to do. The memory of his satisfied groan when you'd finally broken down still made your thighs clench.

Normally you might have resisted longer, enjoying the back-and-forth power struggle. But right now, with your body thrumming with need and the clock ticking on your privacy, pride seemed a foolish thing to cling to.

"You don't stink," you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "You smell fucking amazing. Like... like sex and sweat and smoke." Your face burned with embarrassment, but you continued, watching his pupils dilate as you spoke.

"I can't resist you. The way you smell after practice drives me crazy. Sometimes I have to squeeze my thighs together just watching you coach because the scent of you makes me so fucking wet."

Ukai's breath hitched, his composure slipping for a moment before that controlled mask slid back into place. But his body betrayed him—you could feel his hardness pressing more insistently against you through his track pants.

"So what do you want?" he asked, voice rougher now, graveled with arousal.

"I want your fingers back inside me," you said, boldness growing with your desperation. "I want you to make me cum. I want—I need you, Coach."

His smirk returned, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes at having reduced you to pleading. But there was genuine heat there too—he wasn't immune to your words.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." he murmured, and then his hand was back between your legs, two fingers pushing into you without preamble. The sudden fullness made you cry out, head falling back against the wall with a dull thud.

Ukai's rhythm was more punishing now, fingers curling to hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur. His thumb found your clit, circling it with maddening precision, and his mouth returned to your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

"You like that?" he growled against your throat. "Like being filled by my fingers while anyone could walk in? The team could come back early. Takeda could finish his meeting. They'd see their assistant coach getting finger-fucked against the wall by the volleyball coach."

You felt yourself clench and pulse around his fingers, a warm trickle escaping to slide down the inside of your thigh. His wrist glistened in the dim light as he withdrew slightly, then pushed back in with a slick sound that made your cheeks burn. The obscene wet sounds of his movements echoed in the small storeroom, mingling with your increasingly desperate moans.

"If you want to be good," Ukai continued, his voice dropping to that commanding tone he used on the court, "you'll listen to your coach. And your coach says you're going to come on my fingers before I fuck you properly."

Something about the authoritative title—coach—sent a jolt of electricity through your system.

"Yes," you gasped, hips bucking against his hand. "Yes, coach."

The effect of those two words on Ukai was immediate and visceral. A low, animal sound rumbled from his chest, and his fingers curled more sharply inside you, pace increasing to a near-brutal tempo.

"Say it again," he commanded, his free hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

"Coach," you moaned, the title falling from your lips like a prayer. "Please, coach, make me come."

Ukai's eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with lust. "You'll be a good girl for your coach?" he asked, voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "Take what I give you? Do what I say?"

"I'll be so good," you promised, gasping as his thumb pressed more firmly against your clit. "Anything for you, coach. Anything."

The power of the word wasn't lost on either of you. It was a title that commanded respect, that demanded obedience.

Ukai's breathing grew more ragged, his movements less controlled. The title had affected him as much as it had you, unlocking something primal and possessive.

"Mine," he growled, curling his fingers just right. "My good girl."

Your response was incoherent, a broken moan that might have been agreement. You were close now, teetering on the edge, your body drawn tight as a bowstring under his skilled touch.

"Cum for your coach," he commanded, and you did, shattering around his fingers with a cry that he muffled with his mouth, swallowing the sound as your body convulsed against him.

Before your breathing had even steadied from your climax, Ukai's hands were on your waist, spinning you around. He guided you toward a nearby desk—one of those old wooden teacher's tables pushed against the wall, covered in volleyball statistics sheets and tournament brackets.

With a sweep of his arm, he cleared the surface, papers fluttering to the floor like oversized confetti. His palm pressed between your shoulder blades, bending you forward until your cheek met the cool wood. The position left you vulnerable, exposed—exactly how he wanted you.

"Stay just like that," he instructed, voice husky with need. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, already halfway down your hips. With deliberate slowness, he pulled them down your legs, the fabric rasping against your sensitized skin.

"Step out," he commanded, tapping your ankle.

You complied, lifting each foot in turn, feeling absurdly vulnerable as he removed your shoes, your pants, leaving you bare from the waist down.

The storeroom air—stale and dust-scented—brushed against your exposed flesh, raising goosebumps across your thighs. Ukai's warm palm smoothed over the curve of your ass, kneading the flesh appreciatively.

"Fucking perfect," he murmured, his touch igniting little fires beneath your skin. "Been thinking about tasting you all day."

You heard him drop to his knees behind you, felt his hands gripping your hips, angling you slightly. His breath ghosted over your most intimate parts, making you shiver with anticipation.

"I deserve this, don't I?" he said, his voice lower, rougher.

"Put that team on the map today. Made Nekoma work for every point." His thumbs spread you slightly, exposing you further to his gaze.

"Coach deserves a reward for all that hard work, right?"

The question wasn't really directed at you. His face was so close that his lips brushed against your wet folds as he spoke, addressing your body directly—as if your pussy could answer him independently.

"Look how pretty you are," he whispered, seemingly to your cunt.

"All wet and swollen for me. Been waiting for me all day, haven't you?" His tongue darted out for a quick, teasing lick that made you gasp and push back involuntarily.

"Patience," he admonished, gripping your hips more firmly to hold you in place. "We've got time."

The absurdity of him talking to your body parts might have made you laugh in another context, but here, bent over a desk in a school storeroom, your thighs trembling with desire, it only heightened your arousal.

You reached back with both hands, grabbing your ass cheeks and spreading them wider, offering yourself more completely to his view. The position was lewd, pornographic—you knew exactly how you must look, and the knowledge sent another pulse of wetness between your thighs.

"Please," you whispered, voice muffled against the desk. "I need your mouth."

Ukai's sharp intake of breath told you the display had the desired effect. His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs spreading your lips apart.

"Fuck," he breathed, and you could feel the heat of his exhale against your most sensitive flesh. "The way you smell..."

He inhaled deeply, a sound almost like a growl vibrating from his chest.

"Your sweat, your skin, your pussy—all mixed together." His tongue traced a long, deliberate path from your clit to your entrance, gathering your wetness. "Like fucking ambrosia."

The first real contact of his mouth made you cry out, the sound too loud in the enclosed space.

Ukai didn't seem concerned about discovery anymore, his focus entirely on devouring you. His tongue pushed inside, exploring your depths before retreating to circle your clit.

His stubble rasped against your inner thighs like fine sandpaper, leaving trails of pink heat in its wake, while his tongue—God, his tongue—slipped wet and velvet-soft between your folds. Your back arched involuntarily, fingernails scraping across the wooden desk as you fought to anchor yourself against the overwhelming sensations.

"So. Fucking. Good," he punctuated each word with a firm lick.

"Could taste you forever." His words vibrated against you, adding another layer of sensation that had your eyes rolling back.

He settled into a rhythm, his tongue alternating between broad, flat strokes and pointed precision. One hand maintained its grip on your hip while the other moved lower, a finger teasing your entrance before pushing inside alongside his tongue.

His finger slid inside and your hips jerked backward, grinding against his face as sparks shot up your spine. A whimper escaped your throat as your inner walls clenched around him, already fluttering with the promise of what was building inside you.

Your fingers dug into your own flesh as you held yourself open for him, thighs quivering with the effort to remain standing as pleasure built rapidly in your core. The wet sounds of his mouth working against you echoed obscenely in the small room, mingling with your increasingly desperate moans and his occasional groans of appreciation.

When he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked firmly, your legs kicked out involuntarily, nearly dislodging him. Your spine arched like a bow, toes curling against the cold floor as your hips jerked backward, grinding against his face, then forward, away from the intensity, then back again—a desperate, involuntary dance that left you gasping for breath and clutching at nothing.

Ukai's mouth detached with a wet pop, his hand coming down in a sharp smack against your ass. The unexpected sting made you yelp, more in surprise than pain.

"Be still," he ordered, his voice taking on that authoritative edge that made your insides clench. "You wouldn't want to disappoint your coach, right?"

The question hung in the air, loaded with implication. You stilled immediately, forcing your trembling limbs to comply.

"No, coach," you whispered, the title falling easily from your lips now. "I'll be good for you."

"That's better," he approved, soothing the slight sting with a gentle caress before returning to his feast with renewed hunger.

When he focused his attention on your clit again, circling it with deadly precision while two fingers curled inside you, you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. Your knuckles whitened as you gripped your own flesh harder, determined to remain in position, to be good for him—for your coach.

The orgasm built like a tidal wave, gathering force from the deepest part of you. Your vision blurred, breath catching in your throat as you teetered on the edge. Ukai sensed your closeness, his movements becoming more focused, more deliberate.

"Cum on my tongue," he growled against you, the vibration of his voice the final trigger you needed. "Let me taste how good your coach makes you feel."

You shattered with a muffled cry, face pressed against the wooden desk as your body convulsed. Ukai didn't relent, his tongue working you through each wave, prolonging your pleasure until it bordered on painful, until you were whimpering and trying to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

Only then did he pull back, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your inner thigh before standing. You felt boneless, utterly spent, but the sound of his pants coming down sent a fresh jolt of anticipation through your still-trembling body.

Your body hummed with aftershocks, inner walls still pulsing from your orgasm. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched over your shoulder as he pushed his track pants and underwear down just enough to free himself.

His cock sprang forward, thick and flushed, the head glistening with precum. He took himself in hand, giving a few slow strokes as he admired the view of you bent over the desk, still spread open for him, your entrance visibly slick with want.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Spread out like a fucking feast."

He stepped closer, the heat of his body warming your exposed skin. The blunt head of his cock pressed against one ass cheek, leaving a wet smear as he rubbed himself against you, teasing both of you with the proximity.

"Please," you whispered, beyond pride now, reduced to pure need. "I need you inside me."

Ukai's smirk was audible in his voice. "So impatient."

He shifted, positioning himself at your entrance but not pushing forward. Instead, he dragged his length through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, the head of his cock nudging against your still-sensitive clit with each pass.

"Ukai," you groaned, frustration mounting. "Stop teasing."

"Thought you wanted to shower first," he countered, continuing his maddening movements. "Something about being dirty..."

The reminder of your earlier hesitation felt ridiculous now. You were beyond such concerns, your body aflame with desire, every nerve ending crying out for him. You could feel him painting your pussy with his precum, marking you, claiming you without even entering.

You couldn't take it anymore. Reaching between your legs, you grasped his length firmly, feeling it pulse in your hand. In one decisive movement, you guided him to your entrance and pushed back, impaling yourself on his cock before he could pull away again.

The sudden fullness made you both groan, the sound echoing in the small storeroom. Ukai's hands flew to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he fought to maintain control.

"Fuck," he hissed, his voice strained. "You greedy little—"

"Shut up and move," you commanded, voice breaking as you adjusted to his size.

For a moment, he stood frozen, perhaps surprised by your boldness. Then he laughed, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"Giving orders now?" His hand came down on your ass in a sharp smack that made you yelp and clench around him. "Remember who's the coach here."

He withdrew almost completely before slamming back in, the force of his thrust pushing you against the desk. The wood bit into your hip bones, but the slight pain only enhanced the pleasure coursing through your system.

"So fucking tight," he growled, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. "Squeezing me like you're trying to break my dick off."

Your inner walls clenched around him involuntarily at his words, drawing another groan from his throat.

"You like this, don't you?" he continued, his voice dropping to that dangerous tone that made your insides liquify. "Getting fucked in a school storeroom while the team's away. What would they think if they saw their precious assistant like this? Bent over, taking coach's cock like you were made for it."

Each thrust punctuated his filthy monologue, driving you both closer to the edge. The desk creaked beneath you, the sound almost comically loud in the small space.

Anyone passing by the storeroom would hear it, would know exactly what was happening inside, but the thought only intensified the thrill coursing through you.

"Such a tight little cunt," Ukai continued, his rhythm faltering slightly as his control began to slip. "So fucking wet for me. For your coach."

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his lips at your ear. "You getting off on this, huh? On being my dirty little secret? On knowing anyone could walk in and see you taking my cock?"

"Yes," you gasped, the admission torn from your throat. "Yes, coach. I love it."

His hand snaked around to find your clit, still sensitive from his earlier attention. His fingers circled the swollen bud expertly, adding another layer of sensation that had you seeing stars.

"Filthy girl," he murmured, but the words held no judgment—only approval, appreciation. "So fucking perfect for me."

The combination of his cock filling you so completely, his fingers working your clit, and the continuous stream of dirty talk pushed you rapidly toward another climax. Your inner walls began to flutter around him, your breathing growing shallow and rapid.

"That's it," he encouraged, sensing your approaching orgasm. "Squeeze me tighter. Milk my cock with that greedy pussy. Show your coach how good he makes you feel."

Your orgasm crashed through you with unexpected force, your body tensing and then convulsing around him. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to muffle the cry that threatened to escape. Your inner walls clamped down on his length, pulsing rhythmically as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Ukai cursed, his rhythm becoming erratic as your climax triggered his own. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave marks. "Taking it so well—so fucking tight—gonna fill you up—"

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his cock pulsing as he found his release. The warm flood of his seed triggered another smaller aftershock of pleasure, your body milking him for everything he had to give.

"That's it," he groaned, still moving gently inside you, prolonging both your pleasures. "Take it all like a good girl. Take every drop your coach gives you."

You were boneless beneath him, utterly spent, your cheek pressed against the cool desktop as you struggled to regain your breath. Ukai remained inside you, his weight a comforting pressure along your back, his own breathing gradually slowing to normal.

"Fuck," he finally muttered, the crude syllable somehow encompassing everything neither of you had the energy to articulate. His lips pressed against the nape of your neck in a surprisingly tender gesture before he slowly withdrew from your body.

The loss of him left you feeling oddly empty, your body still humming with residual pleasure as a mixture of your combined releases began to trickle down your inner thigh.

Ukai's forehead rested against your shoulder blade, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your spine. The world had narrowed to just the two of you, to the gentle hum of satisfaction vibrating through your bones.

You might have stayed like that forever, melded together in sweat-slick contentment, if not for the sudden, heart-stopping sound of metal on metal—the unmistakable jingle of the storeroom door handle turning.

Time seemed to slow, stretching like taffy as your brain processed the sound.

Ukai tensed against you, his entire body going rigid. For a fraction of a second, neither of you moved, paralyzed by the sudden intrusion of reality into your private bubble.

The door swung open, flooding the dim storeroom with harsh fluorescent light from the gymnasium.

"Coach Ukai? Are you still here? I was hoping we could discuss the—" Takeda's voice cut off abruptly, his sentence hanging unfinished in the shocked silence that followed.

Horror slithered down your spine like ice water. You were still bent over the desk, Ukai half-dressed behind you, both of you visibly disheveled, the evidence of your activities unmistakable.

The realization that you were exposed—quite literally—to whoever stood in that doorway jolted you from your frozen state.

You tried to straighten, to turn, to somehow salvage a shred of dignity from the catastrophic moment, but Ukai moved faster. In one fluid motion, he pulled out and yanked his pants up, then grabbed his discarded tracksuit jacket from the floor and threw it over your exposed lower half.

His body positioned itself between you and the door, a human shield attempting to preserve what little privacy remained. Even in your mortification, you registered the protectiveness of the gesture, the instinctive way he'd prioritized your modesty over his own.

"What the actual fuck?" Ukai bellowed, his voice sharp with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. "Get out! Now!"

The command should have been enough, but as you peered around Ukai's shoulder, clutching his jacket around your waist, you realized with dawning horror that Takeda wasn't alone.

Behind the bespectacled teacher stood Daichi, his captain's composure utterly shattered, eyes wide with shock.

Beside him, Tanaka's jaw had dropped nearly to his chest, his expression cycling rapidly between disbelief, embarrassment, and—most mortifyingly—a growing gleeful comprehension.

And slightly behind them all, Tsukishima stood with his headphones around his neck, looking like he'd just walked into something far more disgusting than a simple volleyball practice.

"I—we—the keys—" Takeda stammered, his face draining of color before flooding crimson. The teacher seemed incapable of forming a complete sentence, his eyes darting everywhere except directly at you and Ukai.

Daichi wasn't faring much better. The team captain, usually so collected and mature, looked like he might spontaneously combust from embarrassment. His mouth opened and closed several times, no sound emerging, before he finally managed to grab Takeda's sleeve, clearly intent on dragging him away from the scene.

"I said GET OUT!" Ukai roared again, one hand still protectively on your hip, the other gesturing violently toward the door.

Tsukishima was already retreating, his tall frame turning away as he shoved his headphones back over his ears.

"Completely unprofessional," he muttered, just loud enough for his voice to carry back into the storeroom. "Can't believe these are our teachers." But the tips of his ears burned bright red as he stalked away, betraying his own discomfort.

Daichi finally found his voice, though it emerged several octaves higher than normal. "We'll—we'll just—the keys can—later—" He tugged harder at Takeda's sleeve, physically pulling the still-frozen teacher away from the doorway.

Tanaka, however, hadn't moved. A shit-eating grin was spreading across his face as the initial shock wore off, replaced by the realization that he'd just stumbled upon the greatest piece of gossip in Karasuno volleyball history.

"Tanaka!" Daichi barked, reverting to his captain voice. "Move!"

The second-year finally stepped back, but not before delivering the coup de grâce. His voice rang out, loud enough to echo through the gymnasium beyond.

"Holy shit! Coach Ukai just lost No Nut November in the storage room with—"

Daichi's hand clamped over Tanaka's mouth with impressive speed, muffling the rest of the announcement. The captain physically dragged his teammate away, Takeda stumbling after them, still looking shell-shocked.

The door swung shut, leaving you and Ukai in sudden silence.

For a moment, neither of you moved or spoke. The enormity of what had just happened settled over you like a suffocating blanket. Your career, your reputation, Ukai's position with the team—everything suddenly seemed precarious, balanced on the edge of a knife.

Then, from beyond the closed door, came the unmistakable sound of Tanaka breaking free from Daichi's grasp, his voice carrying clearly: "It's November 17th! Coach was so close to making it through the month!"

Ukai's face underwent a fascinating transformation—from mortification to disbelief to a strange, strangled expression that hovered somewhere between horror and hysteria. A sound escaped him that might have been a laugh or a sob or some unholy combination of both.

You glanced down at yourself—half-dressed, Ukai's jacket clutched around your waist, still bent awkwardly over a desk covered in scattered volleyball statistics—and something inside you snapped.

A giggle bubbled up from your chest, unexpected and inappropriate. You tried to suppress it, pressing your hand against your mouth, but it was too late.

The giggle turned into a laugh, and the laugh into a full-blown howl of hysteria. After a moment of staring at you like you'd lost your mind, Ukai's composure cracked too.

His shoulders began to shake, and suddenly he was laughing alongside you, the sound rusty at first, then freer, looser, until both of you were doubled over, gasping for breath.

"No Nut November," he wheezed between bursts of laughter. "Of all the fucking things to—"

"Your face," you managed, wiping tears from your eyes. "When Tanaka said—"

"Tomorrow's going to be hell," Ukai groaned, though the smile hadn't left his face. "Absolute fucking hell."

"Worth it, though?" you asked, suddenly needing the reassurance.

Ukai looked at you—disheveled, half-naked, still flushed from your shared pleasure—and his expression softened into something that made your heart skip.

"More than worth it," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then his smile turned wicked. "Besides, I was never participating in No Nut November anyway. Not with you around."

And from the hallway, growing fainter but still audible, Tanaka's voice carried back to you: "Wait till I tell Noya that Coach and Sensei's assistant were doing it on the equipment! Best. Practice. Ever!"

Wanna nut?

Gooners: @chewiebee @nina-from-317 @lovely-seaangel @givejadeakiss @lyssescloudss @heieufh @muttwithnoname @erintaro @jazfartz2 @reeyeyyeye @thisisprettyfreakingawesome

[ukstls]

W-wrist?? So indecent. What's next, an ankle??

[ukstls]

[jesenipaints]

Sephiroth

[ladythornofrivia]

Me: no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, step on me and I would say thank you.