Just a depressed chilean artist teenager who lives, laugh and love for steve harrington. | Non binary, all pronous, asexual panromantic. I really need a break of life. | 20. | Sometimes i will just bust out some of my shit here, don’t mind me.
Not quite satisfied about the smut ratio in my last post (Tsukishima Kei - tease me, kiss me). Don’t feel like that’s enough for kinktober so I might erase it from the list (it was a friend’s request so it’ll still be available on my blog).
14.10.25 - He’s actually the first of my fics to reach 100 reposts. I doubted my boy— I wasn’t aware of your game, Haikyuu fandom. My bad fr
YOU CANT JUST SAY YOU HAVE A TSUKKI FIC THEN LEAVE US STARVING PLEASEEEE
tsukishima loves torturing you
enemies to lovers trope - tsukki x reader
Ი𐑼 pre note. LMFAO i was cooking nonnie!!!! cookin!! this many words takes time lol i hope you like reading as much i liked writing it
warnings. explicit nsfw. minors DNI
content. 5.6k words || rough sex || college au || touch starved!tsukki || overstim || early orgasms || missionary and prone bone || light choking || fem!recieving oral || tsukki is a munch || late communication || sweet!loser has had enough trope || rly good arguments || good girl isn't a saint || mean guy is a loser || enemies to lovers trope || lying and red flag behavior || goofy yams appearance
He fucks his hand to the thought of you for four nights leading up to his game. It isn't the first time he's done it, but the consistency is heavily fueled by recent events. The stuttering, the stumbling, the adorable uncertainty about him, the three consecutive times you check him out after he gives you little more than a handful of words.
You like him. That's a pornographic concept for somebody starved of affection. So, no, he doesn't last longer than a couple minutes.
Seeing you in class again doesn't add or subtract anything from the fantasy-- and that's the weird part. You must have been perfect that day. Maybe it was the little streak of pen on your face, the mark of himself visible on you.
You carry an obvious awareness of what he did to you for the remainder of the week. He's back to being staunchly ignored. He's a menace with that clickity-clackity pen but you're prepared with earbuds. His teasing grants zero reaction beyond some tension in your shoulder blades. You pack your things quicker than he can rise, flying out the door before he can get the satisfaction of watching, for any longer.
That's the beauty of it, though. You don't ask him to apologize.
It's why when he catches you, in the stands, Thursday evening, he sucks his teeth and doesn't acknowledge you right away.
He has the entire game to think about why you might have shown up.
His uniform fits him better than the usual baggy attire he sports to your 8 a.m. It's actually the first thing you notice; his broad shoulders and the way his back fills out the number on his jersey. He moves with ease; quickly, though- with explosive athleticism you wouldn't have been able to imagine him with on your own. In class, he seemed part-snail how little he moved, how slow his swagger was between the desks even when he was late.
Though you stare at him hard, you lose sight of him often because you're never looking at his number. It's 17, you learn, after nearly twenty minutes of studying how his body moves.
Eye-candy aside, the game lasts much longer than you're prepared for. They go to full sets, and everybody clearly knows the rules better than you do. You aren't sitting in a group, you're stuck on the end of the bleachers, holding yourself, and flinching every time the crowd erupts. The thought to leave crosses your mind many times.
And yet, you are steadfast at your post. You don't take the opportunity for one sole reason.
He needs to pay.
You wondered why the invite felt so exclusive for a while. It felt unnatural for that boy to invite anyone anywhere-- let alone just a classmate he liked to tease. You soon found that his kindness, indeed, was too good to be true. Your hopes had been raised and sufficiently smashed back down in a million pieces. You discovered the streak of ink across your face when you stopped by the restroom after your third class.
It took every bone in your body to keep yourself from screaming when you realized you walked around campus like that all morning- and it was his fault.
After sitting on it for a day, muted rage eventually stirred up a sick, unshakable, feeling of responsibility. You had allowed yourself believe he might have been a nice, maybe misunderstood, guy all along- and there you were, suffering for it.
You still are, seated, over it and over him, while everybody else raises to their feet to clap for their Sendai Frogs' victory.
There you remain until the crowd has dwindled to a few stragglers. Some workers with brooms and trash bags pass you, sparing unsure looks. You tap your fingers, legs crossed, chin up. You know that he saw you. You're not going to come groveling to him, beyond entertaining the offer to come here.
It takes far too long. You're tired, it's way past your bedtime, and you cancelled some plans for this, so a storm was ready for when he comes dawdling up the metal stairs.
Tsukishima has his hands in his pockets, a towel draped over his shoulder, and slides on instead of athletic shoes. He's still flushed, but not out of breath. You hate how hot he is-- and hesitate when you notice he's got different glasses on. You look at him. He looks back at you. You squint at him. He squints back at you.
A big, tired sigh-groan makes you tighten.
"Iiii thought you were mad at me-?" He jeers, leaning back on the railing with a nonchalant sniff. He crosses his feet and finds more interest in sliding his shoe on and off than your stiff, unrelenting stare.
"What would I be mad at you for?"
He blinks and tilts his head back at the speed, the efficiency, and clear animosity in your query.
"Jesus."
He clears his throat at your frown, unable to bounce anything off of you, and a little cornered despite the gigantic gymnasium that houses you both. Instead of answering your question, he tries to steer you away from the very reason you tolerated this night.
"Did you like the game?"
Your words are lightning fast. Zippy and hard. His linger, slow, lacking in apology and soaked in sarcasm.
"Why would you do something like that?"
"Hmm-mm-mm... Whyyy would I do something like that...?"
"Yes. Tell me why."
"Tch... Tch... Tch... I don't know? Maybe- ohhh, yeah-! Because it was funny? Christ."
"That kind of thing is funny to you?"
"Hm. What kind of thing are we talking about?"
"Hurting other people is funny to you?"
"Mmmnever said that."
"You hurt me. Many times. Because you thought it was funny."
"I'm so sorry that you feel that way."
The oh-so-done-with-this attitude he has is, truly, bad enough. But the tiny smile he wears through your back-and-forth, like he can't be bothered to even view your anger as real, is worse. You uncross your legs. Your hands grip the edge of the metal bench so tight your knuckles lighten.
"It was just a joke," He swats off your sincerity, all your emotion, like a pesky gnat.
You stand up and snap, really snap at him. You shout, "You made me look like an idiot!"
"Lighten up!" He laughs, exhausted, a hand slipping through his salty, wet locks. Hours after a tough game, days after late-night fantasizing, months of repressing a crush, and years of building destructive emotional habits wracked up to come out in a tired, too-casual confession.
"Damn, (Y/n)-! I was fucking flirting with you!"
A breath of air fills your lungs. You notice it, how breathing makes you pause, and you realize that you're standing pretty close to him. Like you would, or even could, fight him. He finds a similar pause and swallows the lump in his throat. The immediate weight of regret weighs his head down. He would've rather taken the punch than admit that, in hindsight.
He slides a hand down his jaw and sighs. Then, you watch him wipe his face with his towel and readjust against the railing.
It's clearly your turn to speak.
"I didn't... uh," You wipe your sweaty palms on your pant legs- heartbeat feeling a little weak in your chest. "Yeah, I didn't gather that. From, y'know. The way you are."
He doesn't look at you, but snorts, and chortles, at your particular phrasing. His laugh is terribly cute. You can really see how tired he is when you choose to lean on the railing next to him, instead.
"Thank you. Really, thank you for that, Aristotle."
"Fuck you," You chuckle, tired too.
He glances down to you with raised brows. There's almost a smile.
"Oh, yeah?"
It's no effort, really. He doesn't try to make you blush, but it happens anyway.
You don't take the bait because you're better than that.
"They're about to close," Tsukishima sighs.
He motions to the more anxious-looking workers, idling at the exits for the two of you to be done with your lovers' quarrel. You jump, wincing at how inconsiderate such a thing was.
You walk with him, a little behind, because you don't know your way around. You give the employees enough apology nods along the way to make up for his refusal to do the same. He leads you to an offshoot section, near the locker rooms, and close to an exit. You're at ease because you think this might be where you parked your car.
"We can keep talking, if you wanna-," He glances around your face, pausing, so he can savor the reaction for the rest of his offer, "Go back to my place."
You're nothing if not polite.
"Um..."
A little breath fills you up, and you look away as you consider the suggestion. He watches with a smirk as color tinges your features, and your hands don't know where to go. Such a pretty girl, with no idea what to do with yourself. He wants to be your dirty little mistake badly. He wants it to be weird next week.
"Actually-,"
He cuts your thinking, your almost-no maybe-yes off, with a very unconvincing recollection. He jerks his thumb to the locker rooms and says, "I need to shower first. Before we go."
"-Wait for me."
It's not a question because he already knows that you will. Before he abandons you to wait again, alone in the hallway, he leaves you with a quick peck to the temple and a cheeky, "Come join me if you get bored."
Your skin tingles in the aftermath of his kiss. You touch where he held your chin, then where his lips were, and stand still in shock. You look back, but he's already out of sight.
He calls out, a bit echo-y off the locker room tiles, "Or don't! It's whatever."
Of course you don't.
But, when he said 'his place' you thought he wouldn't be in student housing. Not that you could judge; that's what you were used to. He was living in a slightly better accommodations, but still has a bunkmate. It's much like your own dorm room, but a little off, uncanny, and he can tell you aren't digging the threat of an extra person.
"He's working tonight," He throws a nod to the bottom bed.
You lean against a desk, dizzy, and unsure if saying yes was the smart move.
You don't know what to call him. He feels familiar, but just short of comforting, in this foreign room. The scale of its -his- newness weighs on you, multiplied by the fact that you had been in new places all evening. You had been so angry about how he treated you for so long because you cared- but now that's resolved, kind of, so what is there left to address?
He isn't going to guide you. You grasp, desperately, at nothing.
"You..." You feel his pressure right away and know you won't be articulate, "Said... that- you were- um... flirting. This whole time."
His duffel bag thumps onto the floor, across the room.
"Yeah."
A missed beat. You meet his eyes, briefly, but shrink at the thought of his offer at the gym. As he nears you, your heart squeezes in anticipation, "Wh-y-?"
"Because you're cute, sweetheart," A chill whisper ghosts past your cheek. Bordering on condescending. He puts two hands on either side of you.
Bad news. Bad news. Bad news. He's a walking red flag, you remind yourself. You've never met anyone so downright mean in all your years-- but, did his actions signify that he was totally irredeemable?
You couldn't get behind that type of black and white thinking, as you spare a wide-eyed glance at his hungry face. He is deceivingly pretty.
He leans down to keep you pinned into the desk- you hope, but aren't sure, that it belongs to him. You shiver at his words, brace against his hold, and shy away from that sharp gaze. He's so impatient.
It begs the question- one that keeps racing through your mind- Could this be the only way he shows affection?
You have a feeling that if you pull away, he'll never reach for you again. That, if you don't look at him right, it's going to be over.
So, out of curiosity, and in your best attempt to be kind, you relax. Your muscles stop fighting his grip. You press into his front and meet his hard-working expression with a softer, easier one. You trust your gut one last time and pray he doesn't make you regret it.
You whisper back, "You think I'm cute?"
Tsukishima's attention is stolen by the way you feel against him. Skin on skin. Cloth on skin. Cloth on cloth, fingers edged under his shirt collar. The weight, the warmth, of your tummy on his. His palms just keep you there, no longer rushed in his pulling, and his jaw twitches at how you search him so openly.
"Tsk."
His false disinterest might have discouraged you, had he not been sporting a generous erection that he kept firm between your bodies.
You repeat, eyes unwavering, noting his sudden flightiness, "You think I'm cute?"
It cracks his thin confidence. He looks down and away, wincing, at your parting thighs. You're soft- sooo soft.
He's breathing harder than you, holding you firmer, lost for fractions of a snotty response. You're distracting. He can't think beyond how good you feel.
Then, your fingers splay up into his fluffy blond hair. He takes a big, loud inhale through his nose at the sensation and sigh-laughs the breath back out. You bite your lip, captured, by how much he enjoys it, and dip forward to try and look him in the eye.
"Because..." You find his eyes for a fleeting moment, "I think you're a little more than cute."
"Hm-mmn."
He pushes his head into your grasp, seething, at your nails, and the way your thighs squeeze him. So, he was proving to be all talk and zero bite. You enjoy the way he holds you in his gaze, how he ruts against you like he's never had pussy before.
You grip the roots of his hair, and smile, a bit giddy with power, "Why'd you take me back to your place if we're just going to talk?"
He laughs. His eyes roll back to life with a sobered groan, "Ohh, yeah. Y'got me."
His tone freezes you. It weakens your grip. You're shocked by how quick he can shake off your touch. It doesn't happen without effort, but he can. And that makes you a little embarrassed that you believed, even for a second, that he was an amateur.
Because he knows how to touch you. His fingers pry from the desk to find your hips. He wedges strong thumbs into the crease of your thighs and rocks you forward, making you grip onto his shoulders with a startled sound. You have to wrap your legs around him. He takes a breath and envelops you in his arms. His lips meet the side of your neck.
"Mm-ch--, That's better, yeah?"
You sigh at the mark he surely has left and the fact that you fell for another one of his tricks. You're getting pushed off-balance, but held, hugged, closer, where he wants you.
"Or..." He slips the bra strap off of your shoulder and pulls the hem of your shirt down, "Did you like me more when you thought you were in charge?"
The muddy mix of pain and pleasure from his rough kisses confuses your opinion of him. You gasp at his teeth, squirm at his roaming hands.
"I don't know if I even like you."
He's quick to respond. Just like your argument back at the gym.
"We've got all night for you to figure it out."
Now that you're visibly his- he takes your chin between his fingers. You wear a pout he knows wouldn't be as adorable if it wasn't so unmistakably yours.
You lean in first and kiss him, like you're not conflicted. Sweet, gentle, and forgiving; how he knows you to be. You want him to return your patience and understanding.
It's not his style.
He hums against your mouth, deepening, prying open, what little you give him. When he rocks his hips against you, you knock over a cup of pencils in the process of finding a better leveraged place for your palm.
"Shit," His snicker brings you apart for a moment as he cranes to watch a few clatter onto the floor.
"You should pick that up before he gets back."
You scoff at him. So this isn't his desk. His smile would also indicate that he was waiting for something snarky in return.
"I thought you said we had all night."
He seethes, rubs your thighs, and replays the last minute in his head, "Did I?"
"You did."
A rare moment of sincerity raises his brows- a nod, and he remembers aloud, "That's right. I did."
His hands run up to the waistband of your pants and he starts toying with the button, the zipper- his tongue wets his bottom lip.
"I lied."
You don't inch away from his touch or interrupt how he starts to unclothe you. He's testing the waters and you want to show him you can be calm. You can get down.
"He does work tonight," He reaffirms, with a soft peck to your temple, "But he'll be back around midnight."
That was a huge cushion of time. You share a look of understanding first, then a greedier, faster kiss.
He hums at the feeling of your skin as he dives his hands down your clothes to massage at your hips. The way he moves your body for you screams that he's already been fucking you in his mind for a long time.
"Mm," You twist your head away from his bombardment of kisses, so he directs them down the curve of your neck, "We should hurry, then."
Tsukishima pulls his shirt off the second you're done telling him yes. You grin at the sight and join him, rushing a trail of messy kisses and scratches down his body. As he pulls his last pant leg free from his foot, he throws an arm to the ceiling.
The top bunk? You blink.
You crane to take a better look at his bed and strip a little slower. You eye his bulge, but stay thinking about the weight limit on these beds. The rules in your room dictated that the smallest roommate gets the top bunk. It was safer and easier that way.
You summit the thing regardless, grateful that you know the trick of how to get up on your own-- because he doesn't have the ladder attachment that comes with the bed.
"Is your roommate taller than you?"
The way he climbs up after you is practiced, and reminiscent of how well he moved during that game. You want to tell him, somehow, that you thought he was really sexy, how he played tonight-- but you shake the desire off. There's no way he would let you compliment him without tearing you down.
"No."
He doesn't ask why, but you see that he's shuffling through all the possibilities as to why you'd be thinking about his roomie.
"Then-," You shift, hand on the ceiling, and pluck a pillow from under your back, "Why did you take the top bunk?"
"Because I wanted the top bunk." He answers.
His simple phrasing gives you enough insight to how he generally is. A casual bully to not just you, but anyone that can tolerate him. His body takes up so much barely-there space above you. The air gets heavy, sweeter, but thicker- and you hold your breath.
"Don't look at me like that," A hand slips between your closed knees, ultra gentle, but daunting in its bigness.
You shudder and let him part your thighs.
"Like wh-at?"
"Liiiiike," He sinks into the prone, breath hot but his mouth hotter as he licks a stripe up your clothed cunt. His fingertips hook under your panties, "I'm gonna eat you alive."
His cruel sense of humor doesn't make you laugh, but it does turn you on.
"You're-ha-h, not funny-," You struggle and sigh, trembly, as he pushes them to the side instead of wasting time to pull them off.
He's patient and slow for a while. He listens. He adjusts, when you flinch- he learns your body and studies you, like a game.
Long fingers bring you forward into his mouth. You keep your hands on top of his, heart fluttering at the sensation of his knuckles and the strength of grip.
You worry that you're not necessarily fresh- your morning shower was 7? hours ago. You are not shaved. It takes a minute, or ten of them, to relax.
"Mnn-hh," Open-mouthed, dripping with clear from the chin, he orders, "You a robot, or what? Pull my hair. Do something."
He's the most sour you've ever heard him get. You gasp at a bite to the plush of your trembly thigh.
"Ow-! You-h-Ah,"
He groans against your pussy, tongue swirling, messy, around your swollen clit since that's how you like it, apparently. Your expression of discomfort weighs on him, so he repeats slower.
"Gimme somethin' or I'll keep doin' it." Harsh. Muffled. But inarguably enthusiastic.
You've been vocal. He's just greedy and wants you to be his thoroughly broken-in good girl.
The problem is that you aren't. You're no wide-eyed virgin saint. And he's not the secretly-sweet ready-to-be-changed guy you want, either. He likes how mean he is. It's practiced. You're just each other's folly for now, and that has to be enough for the night.
Thankfully, any pretty boy willing to go that hard for you can get it.
You arch into him, hands slipping through his damp locks, a broken giggle on your tongue at the ridiculousness you've both tripped and fallen down into.
He likes biting you. You find this out the hard way. When you don't pull hard enough, or when you fuck his name up.
"Just-," He struggles to get his shins out of the bottom of the wood frame, because what you didn't get to see was half of his legs dangling from the bed. "Call me Tsukki." He's so long and lanky it's impossible to keep the grin off of your face, even more impressive that you manage not to laugh until he's back on top of you.
His glasses are foggy. You chortle at him.
"Tsukki, you- shoul-d-- hahaa-," You giggle at his deadpan expression, and fail to tease him because, again, he looks so silly.
When you're done, he slides them off of his face with one hand. He reaches above you, and tenderly places his glasses on one of the wooden bed posts.
You stare at them for seconds after he's done setting them aside. This might have added to how strong of an effect his new face gives you. Now, that was a volleyball player. He squints at you, amusement twitching up his lips, at how you flex against him. His bare, amber eyes are so severe and you can't seem to catch your breath.
"What?"
"N-othing," You wince at your voice crack.
He laughs at you and frees you both of the last of your clothes. Once again, it cannot be overstated how pretty his laugh is, even when it's at your expense.
He is all-too aware of why your thighs squeeze him harder, why your chest is rising and falling uneven, why your face is getting hotter. He's slow, and drunk on your slickness coating his cock, "Mm... Do I look... different?"
"Just a little bit better?" His teeth make an appearance this time as he slides his arms under the pillow, closer, looking down at you, "Ohh, c'mon, y'can't talk to me? Don't wanna laugh?"
"You're- ah, an asshole," You sigh, shaky, and needy at how he lines himself up with you.
His kisses are rough and ruttish on the side of your face now that there's nothing in the way. He shushes you, too, as if he hasn't dismissed you enough.
"Fu-ck," He's vocal as he buries himself into you, denying you space, denying you air, or humility, "Mmhh-ah,"
His hand takes the whole lower half of your face and twists it up, away, as he soaks up your gasping. He can feel that you're able to take him already, he can hear you love it-- inflating his ego, and of course, he can't let that go unspoken for.
"Feels good, yeah?" He taunts against your ear, cock jammed against your cervix.
He feels like the kind of hook-up you won't ever forget. So heavy as he weighs you down, grabbing you, holding you, needing you despite knowing next to nothing about you. His hands are sampling every inch of your sticky skin. He's rough and not so calculated anymore. You laugh, a breathless version of one, at least, and return what strength you could afford.
"You're- so- h-ah, cute," You admit between gasps, brows squeezed together, fingers buried in his fluffy blond hair.
He tries to roll his eyes, but it just doesn't work. His head is heavy in the crook of your shoulder, his sounds exaggerated because they're immediately in the shell of your ear.
Fullness- real, and slick, and burning hot, fills you: He utters broken and whiny phrases of how perfect you are, every time he bottoms out, and soon he's wrapping his arms around you again.
He never struck you as a hugger, not on the first night, and certainly not a clingy one at that.
"Mnh!" You squeak at his biting, nails digging lines down his broad back.
You think about how good he looked in his jersey again. It was practically foreplay. What was his number? Maybe you could look pictures up online.
"H-ah...Y-our g-ame--,"
Your words fail you again and you can feel his lips turn into that shitty smirk against yours.
You groan, frustrated, and lock your ankles around him. He's deeper, and it's wetter, it's louder. You think about who might live on the other side of the wall.
"Mn-nh!!" He pants, brow furrowed, at the gesture, "Careful...fuck, hah..."
Did 'careful' mean he was close? You don't have time to get proud about it because he's already pulling out and catching his breath, collecting his senses again.
"Turn around."
You breathe in tandem for a moment. At first, you don't move, because there is simply no room for traditional doggy. And, he looks like he belongs in a magazine, all twisted and muscled in the dim light with a bouncy, slick cock.
Then you remember there are variations.
You're stuffed with him already. You gasp and your pussy flexes hard around him as he reaches around to hold your neck.
"This okay?"
"Don't squeeze."
You hesitate before adding an ultra-soft, "Please."
He kisses the back of your head and readjusts his grip, substantially lighter.
Okay, maybe you do want him to squeeze. You don't test it, though - you don't know him. And you can't, because he's fucking all the words out of you again.
"Ah-h-!" You whine into his pillow- legs trembling- full body getting wrecked as he pushes his hips into yours.
You whine his nickname; easy consonants that spill pretty, quieted, against his bedsheets. The bed is not sturdy, you notice, as you egg him on with very little effort.
His lips are on your shoulder as he mutters, mostly to himself, "Yeah. Should've fucked you sooner."
You feel it running down your thighs, the sweat and juice all mixed together - it burns against the bites he left on you. There's one that probably won't heal for weeks, long after he's done with you.
He fucks you until you're a babbling, incoherent mess. He entertains you, too, teasing and picking apart your sounds.
"I know, ohh, I know," His groans and sighs fall over your skin, inspire a deeper arch in your spine, relax you and ease your fussing.
You're not typically so easy, but he's kept you on your toes for more surprising twists than an premature orgasm. You're full of him, crying, whining, and clawing at his sheets that smelled just like him as you cum hard, way too early.
"Fuuck, yeah. Good girl," His eyes are wide with surprise behind you.
You can't see it. You could've maybe deduced it from his tone, but can't hear him through the milky high you're swimming in. "You okay?" Is a bit facetious, at first.
It's for the best.
This was lovely, but you can't help but get lost in the emptiness the refractory period leaves you with.
Salt burns your eyes. He's still a bully. You had been so vulnerable, and for what? He lies, at almost every opportunity, until he's caught. He's insensitive. You weren't looking for one night stands anymore, but he has to make you bring the list back out.
You feel a hand zip off your neck, and all of his weight shifting after he pulls out.
"Hey," Tsukishima cranes to look at you, wetting his pillow with overstimulated tears, and you sniffle, confused, at the panic written all over him, "Are you okay?"
"Mhm," You blink the sting away but remain still, heavy, and a little sad, but you can't remember why.
He lightly strokes some hair from your face, "Was it the choking? Was it too hard?"
"No..."
'No,' Ghosts past his lips, and he's trying to think of what else he could've done to upset you. His shoulders droop a bit when he's got a long list of qualifying actions.
Could it be that he's actually fretting over you? He sells it well, thoroughly disheveled, because his hair has dried oddly and it's obvious he can't see well. You learn that every second you choose to not speak slowly, incrementally, kills him.
He is ultra-weary by the time you have a blanket wrapped around you and a bottle of water in your hand.
You didn't want his compassion to end. You liked holding him in limbo. If this was his punishment for months of torment, it was -overall- a miniscule price to pay.
Sitting on the edge of his mattress, your feet automatically swing back and forth. You take in the volleyball posters on every wall as he gets dressed, fails to find his fallen glasses, and cleans up most of his roommate's pencils you spilled earlier. You have a quiet sip of cold water and smell a fistful of his blanket. You glance to an empty spot on the wooden bedframe.
"I like your room." You break your silence with a hoarse, tiny declaration.
Tsukishima stills. He has to be very intentional about not sounding like a dick, for once. He slowly drops the last pencil in and adjusts the cup to where he thinks it was, "Yeah?"
From this angle, you notice he's still fully hard and struggle not to look a second time.
"Tsukki?"
That tone you take on beckons him toward you. It's honied, and domestic, and makes his guilt feel a like a ton that he drags behind him. He only has himself to blame for getting so attached.
You reach for him and take his face in your palms. He looks up at you, searching as hard as he can with blurry vision.
"I'm okay. I promise."
Absentminded swinging stills at his touch.
"And...sorry you didn't get yours," You're not really sorry, but you desperately want to address his situation downstairs, and overstay your welcome, if you can.
His head rests heavy on your bare thighs with a pained grin.
"I mean," His grip slides up the outside of your thigh, eyes following, as he fights the desire to be truthful. He grimaces through it for you, "I came in the shower before this, so..."
"At the gym?"
"...Yeah."
The two of your share a chuckle; yours is amused, his is late and stilted. His head gets weightier as he nuzzles his face between your thighs, sucking slow kisses on top of the old bitemarks. You sip on your water, lids low, and part your legs for him.
Seething, his hands make quick work of your modesty cover as he starts to lap, apologetic, at you.
There's a loud ch-thunk of a door lock being opened, followed quick by it sliding open.
It shoots a shared flinch through both of you. He only has time to smooth your blanket back down and wipe his chin before his roommate comes in.
"Yo," He announces himself, then looks up, "Ohh, shit."
He puts your little scene together quick by the amount of skin showing and the position. You stiffen with chills and pull the fuzziness tighter. Your stomach sinks with disbelief that it's already midnight.
In one smooth motion, he covers his eyes, catches the door before it even has a chance to close, and turns back into the hallway.
You can both hear him check his phone with a quiet Fuck just outside the door. Tsukishima's phone buzzes in his pocket with a storm of late texts.
He sighs. His face finds your lap again as he thinks about what he wants to do.
"I can go-"
"What? No," He looks up only to cut you off hard, absent-minded, deep in thought.
He's got the plan mapped out in the next few seconds, but is slow to part from your legs, groaning, "You have to get dressed, though. He's a total virgin." He sucks his teeth and adds, "Obviously."
You shift, giddy with excitement, at the invitation to stay.
Ი𐑼 post note. honestly @polodetti major shout out i wouldn't have finished this if you hadn't requested. guys. i didn't know i was capable of doing full fics anymore. also? rarely do i find i have brainrot of one particular character. hope you enjoy the latest tsukki posting!!!
ᯓ★ no one really knows it, but tsukishima kei is the biggest freak when it comes to you.
you could literally be standing in the kitchen, cooking his favorite meal, and he would walk in and give your ass a slap. the strength he puts in it would depend on his mood. on a daily basis you would receive a gentle and soft one, just to feel your flesh under his touch. but if he’s particularly turned on the slap would sting really hard, but he does it just because he loves to hear you moan softly in pain.
if you're getting dressed in front of the mirror, he would take advantage of it and sit at the edge of the bed behind you, legs spread wide while leaning on his hands, eyes focused on how your ass wobbles with every movement. you would glance at him from the mirror and giggle at his expression, you’d never seen him so focused on something before. but you don’t mind, really.
after a stressful day at work he wants nothing but to lay in the bed with you, legs tangled together, his arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your chest. he would use your boobs as a cushion, sometimes reaching one of it with his hand and giving it a soft squeeze.
he doesn’t really like taking the risk and doing something explicit in public, but if you’re out at dinner with some friends and you’d worn a dress that’s way too short for his own liking, you would feel his hand under the table all the evening. he would rest it on your knee, then reach up to your tight, giving it a gentle squeeze. after teasing you enough, he would eventually slide it under your dress, touching your inner tight and watching you shoot him a glare. he loves your reaction.
it may not seem like it, but this man would give you the best rough sex you’ve ever experienced. he would pound you frantically from behind, the slap of your skin against his echoing in the room, one hand on your hip, the other wrapped softly around your neck. he loves the full view of your body he has, or the beautiful sounds that escape your mouth. He has a strong stamina, so he would keep going until your legs would give up, leaving you breathless against the mattress.
—————————————————
a/n: y’all i was feeling freaking and needed to write something😛
In both Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Ed looses the ability to use alchemy.
I feel like its sadder in brotherhood though, because bro is still in a world where alchemy exists. At least in the Conquer of Shambala movie, the world he ends up in doesnt have alchemy like that.
tsukishima taking his shy and innocent gf’s virginity
you’ve always been tsukishima’s shy little girlfriend.
the kind who blushes at the slightest innuendo, who’s never had a boyfriend before him, let alone touched anyone intimately. your experience? zero.
just stolen moments alone in your bedroom, fingers fumbling between your legs while you think of him— his golden eyes, his tall frame towering over your petite and smaller body, that smirk that makes your heart race.
you’ve also peeked at porn a few times, imagining tsukishima doing those dirty things to you, but you always slam your laptop shut after, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
he’s way more experienced. dated once or twice in college. had one serious relationship before you. that fact somehow made you insecure. stupid, you know.
tsukishima’s patient as hell despite how many times you’ve left him rock-hard from your innocent makeout sessions, your ass pressing against his bulge while you cuddle on his lap, grinding without even realizing it.
he never pressures you. always lets you set the pace because he loves you and wants everything on your terms. but god, he thinks your innocence is adorable— how you hide your face when he teases you, how easily you get flustered. secretly, though, he fantasizes about corrupting you just a bit, maybe just a bit. how much cuter you’ll look under him, sobbing and taking his cock for the first time.
and now, here you are, finally ready, because you love him so damn much and you want him— need him— to be your first, to fill you up and make you his completely.
“breathe for me, baby,” tsukishima murmurs soft against your ear, his voice all gentle coaxing as he notches the fat head of his cock at your slick entrance, your tight virgin pussy clenching nervously around nothing yet.
you’re spread out under him on the bed, your small frame dwarfed by his tall, lean body— the size difference of you two making you feel so tiny, so vulnerable.
he’s huge everywhere. especially there. his dick thick and veined, curving up just right, already leaking pre cum that smears messy over your folds as he rubs it teasingly up and down. “you’re doing so good already. my pretty girl, lettin’ me in like this. yeah? you want it?”
you nod frantically, tears pricking your eyes, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders like a lifeline. “y-yes, kei… please, i love you… want you so bad” you whimper, your voice shy and needy, face flushed hot with embarrassment.
you’re soaking wet from the foreplay— his fingers had stretched you a little, but nothing prepares you for this.
he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, distracting you as he starts pushing in slow, the stretch burning, splitting you open inch by inch. “haaah! kei! it’s.. it’s too big… hurts…” you sob, tears spilling down your flushed cheeks, your walls fluttering wildly around the intrusion.
he’s only halfway and you feel like you’re being torn in half, your pussy so tight and unused, clenching desperately.
“shhh i know, baby, i know,” he coos, pressing more kisses all over your face, his thumbs wiping your tears gently. “you’re takin’ me so well, though. fuck, you’re tight… you feel so damn good. just a little more, okay? breathe… that’s it, good girl.” he sinks deeper into you, murmuring praises the whole way “so brave for me, yeah? look how you’re stretchin’ around my cock” until he’s fully seated, balls deep inside your cunt, his fat tip kissing your cervix already, making you gasp because of the discomfort.
you feel so full... stuffed to the brim, your juices leaking out around him, making everything slick and messy.
you bite your lip hard, clinging to him tightly, nails digging into his back as you adjust, sobbing softly but trusting him completely.
tsukishima stays still for a moment, letting you breathe through it, his hands roaming gentle over your trembling body, cupping your tits and thumbing your nipples to distract you. “you okay, baby? feels better now?” he asks softly, eyes locked on yours with that rare tenderness. you nod weakly, hips twitching involuntarily and he groans. “god, you’re perfect. my baby likes bein’ full, huh? uh-huh, i can tell— your pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight.”
and then slowly, he starts moving, shallow thrusts at first, still letting you adjust, his cock dragging along your walls in a way that has you moaning brokenly. “mmnnghh kei… oh god, it’s… it’s startin’ to feel g-good…” you whine.
he smirks faintly, he loves how he’s ruining you so sweetly, turning his shy girl into a needy mess. “yeah? that’s my girl. takin’ my cock like you were made for it. fuck baby, you’re so wet… drippin’ all over me.”
he picks up pace, fucking you faster now, his hips snapping harder, the wet slaps of skin echoing in the room— your pussy gushing around him, coating his length in thick creamy white rings.
suddenly, he folds you into half, your knees by your ears, opening you up deeper for him, his cock bullying your cervix with every brutal thrust. “AAAHHHH— keiii...! too deep… m’gonna… oh fuck!” you cry, overstimulated already, mind going mushy as he pounds you senseless, your tits bouncing with every hard thrusts, sweat and slick mixing between your bodies.
“shit, baby, you love it, don’t you? yeah you do, look at you creamin’ on my dick like a slut” he grunts, leaning down to kiss you sloppy. “uh-huh, that’s right— cum for me. let me feel you cum all over this cock.”
that did it.
you shatter, squirting hard around him, soaking him and the sheets, your velvety walls milking him as you babble incoherently, dumbified from the pleasure.
“shiiit— that’s it, baby.. only your first time and you’re squirting already..? fucking hell” he groans deeply but he doesn’t stop, still thrusting through it. still keeping you folded like a pretzel under him.
“good girl, so fuckin’ good… gonna fill you up now, yeah? breed this tight pussy.” and with a final slam, he cums so deep, hot ropes painting your insides, his cum leaking out as he grinds slow
you’re a mess- sobbing, squirting again weakly around his still pistoning cock, clinging to him as he pulls out slow, cum and slick dripping filthy from your ruined hole.
💭 fucking inside a public bathroom with college!tsukishima
from the moment you stepped into the crowded college party, tsukishima— your tall, snarky boyfriend—had been unusually touchy.
his long fingers grazed your waist constantly, pulling you closer amid the thumping bass and laughter, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “you look so fucking good in that skirt, i could eat you alive.”
but it escalated when he tugged you onto his lap on the couch, his hand sneaking under your skirt right there in the dim light, fingertips teasing your damp panties, circling your clit slowly. “feel how wet you are already? bet you’ve been thinking about my cock all night” he whispered, voice low and rough, making your thighs clench.
you squirmed, whispering back, “babe, people might see—” but he just hummed, slipping a finger inside you briefly, pumping once before pulling out. “then let’s find somewhere private before i fuck you right here.”
now, shoved into the cramped bathroom, door locked but music still vibrating through the walls, tsukishima has you bent over the sink, skirt hiked up around your waist, panties yanked down to your ankles. his pants are barely undone, just enough to free his cock that is thick, veined, and throbbing as he lines it up with your dripping pussy.
“fuck, look at you in the mirror” he groans, gripping your hips hard, slamming into you raw in one hard thrust.
you cry out, but he clamps a hand over your mouth, leaning over your back. “be quiet or i’ll stop. you don’t want that, do you? not when your greedy cunt’s sucking me in like this.”
he starts pounding relentlessly, hips snapping with hard wet slaps, his dick stretching you wide, bullying your cervix with every deep stroke.
the size difference is obscene— well, he is much more bigger than you. right now he towers over you, one hand bracing the sink as he rails you from behind, your ass jiggling against his pelvis. “you like me fucking you like this? taking my dick in public?” he whispers into your ear, breath ragged, free hand sliding up to shove two fingers into your mouth. “shit, you're so loud.”
you moan around his fingers, drooling messily, eyes rolling back as he lifts one of your legs onto the counter, spreading you wider. the angle’s brutal- his fat tip hammers your g-spot, then deeper, kissing your cervix over and over, making your legs tremble uncontrollably.
cream coats his shaft, frothy and white, dripping down your thighs as you cum on him hard, walls fluttering wildly.
“that’s it.. cum all over me,” he groans, watching in the mirror as your tits bounce under your top, face flushed and dumb with pleasure, your flawless makeup from earlier now all smudge. “fuck, you’re so tight- gonna make me cum inside you.”
he doesn’t let up, pounding into your pussy harder, deeper— reaching around to rub your swollen clit in messy circles, smearing your juices everywhere, while his other hand yanks your hair back so you’re forced to watch yourself get ruined. “look at how good you take it, baby. taking my cock like a champ. so fucking pretty for me”
your mind blanks, fucked dumb, legs shaking so bad he has to hold you up as another orgasm rips through you, squirting slick down his balls.
your pussy clenched tightly around him and then hes cumming with a shaky moan, he buries himself balls deep, pumping hot ropes of cum straight into your womb, his cum overflowing and trickling out around his girth.
he stays plugged in for a moment, kissing your neck sloppily, whispering, “thats a good girl.”
you stumble out of the bathroom minutes later, legs wobbling like jelly, cum sticky between your thighs under your skirt. tsukishima wraps an arm around your waist, smirking down at you like the loving asshole he is.
“where you going?” tsukishima drawls, long fingers curling around your wrist as you try to slip back toward your table.
his voice is low, laced with that smug edge, golden eyes glinting behind his glasses.
you open your mouth to answer, but he tugs you closer, leaning down until his lips brush your ear. “parking lot’s this way,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. “let’s go home. i’m not done with you yet.”
thinking about post time skip haikyuu is so funny to be bc the people who know other people is crazy like what must normal people in that universe think
like why does youtuber streamer and owner of bouncing ball co kozume kenma aka kodzuken know the libero of this russian team and this half russian model and this comedian / chef and also a bunch of div 1&2 pro volleyball players and his childhood bsf works for the jva
some kid comes to class one day and his teacher knows half the japanese national team ????? THIS RANDOM COP IN MIYAGI IS A SENPAI TO HINATA SHOYO AND KAGEYAMA TOBIO i’m in tears actually this is so funny how have i never considered this
yachi taking time off for the olympics and her colleagues are like oh omg what are you watching? you could come and watch at this bar with us! and she’s like actually my super famous besties got me tickets to go see the games IN PERSON and that’s how they learn she’s besties with hinata and kageyama bc she also posts a selfie w them and yamaguchi and tsukishima
new fans are so confused on how and why hinata knows so many people??? why is he on good terms with the japanese guy who plays for that one polish team? why is he posting selfies with san juan’s star setter???? why is san juan’s star setter married to THE JAPANESE TEAMS ATHLETIC TRAINER??? WHAT IS HAPPENING
everyone and everything is connected
edit: this is suddenly getting a lot of attention again? is it bc of the new hq magazine idk!!! but hi to anyone who sees this lol i wrote hq stuff on ao3 too :)
tsukishima taking his shy and innocent gf’s virginity
you’ve always been tsukishima’s shy little girlfriend.
the kind who blushes at the slightest innuendo, who’s never had a boyfriend before him, let alone touched anyone intimately. your experience? zero.
just stolen moments alone in your bedroom, fingers fumbling between your legs while you think of him— his golden eyes, his tall frame towering over your petite and smaller body, that smirk that makes your heart race.
you’ve also peeked at porn a few times, imagining tsukishima doing those dirty things to you, but you always slam your laptop shut after, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
he’s way more experienced. dated once or twice in college. had one serious relationship before you. that fact somehow made you insecure. stupid, you know.
tsukishima’s patient as hell despite how many times you’ve left him rock-hard from your innocent makeout sessions, your ass pressing against his bulge while you cuddle on his lap, grinding without even realizing it.
he never pressures you. always lets you set the pace because he loves you and wants everything on your terms. but god, he thinks your innocence is adorable— how you hide your face when he teases you, how easily you get flustered. secretly, though, he fantasizes about corrupting you just a bit, maybe just a bit. how much cuter you’ll look under him, sobbing and taking his cock for the first time.
and now, here you are, finally ready, because you love him so damn much and you want him— need him— to be your first, to fill you up and make you his completely.
“breathe for me, baby,” tsukishima murmurs soft against your ear, his voice all gentle coaxing as he notches the fat head of his cock at your slick entrance, your tight virgin pussy clenching nervously around nothing yet.
you’re spread out under him on the bed, your small frame dwarfed by his tall, lean body— the size difference of you two making you feel so tiny, so vulnerable.
he’s huge everywhere. especially there. his dick thick and veined, curving up just right, already leaking pre cum that smears messy over your folds as he rubs it teasingly up and down. “you’re doing so good already. my pretty girl, lettin’ me in like this. yeah? you want it?”
you nod frantically, tears pricking your eyes, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders like a lifeline. “y-yes, kei… please, i love you… want you so bad” you whimper, your voice shy and needy, face flushed hot with embarrassment.
you’re soaking wet from the foreplay— his fingers had stretched you a little, but nothing prepares you for this.
he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, distracting you as he starts pushing in slow, the stretch burning, splitting you open inch by inch. “haaah! kei! it’s.. it’s too big… hurts…” you sob, tears spilling down your flushed cheeks, your walls fluttering wildly around the intrusion.
he’s only halfway and you feel like you’re being torn in half, your pussy so tight and unused, clenching desperately.
“shhh i know, baby, i know,” he coos, pressing more kisses all over your face, his thumbs wiping your tears gently. “you’re takin’ me so well, though. fuck, you’re tight… you feel so damn good. just a little more, okay? breathe… that’s it, good girl.” he sinks deeper into you, murmuring praises the whole way “so brave for me, yeah? look how you’re stretchin’ around my cock” until he’s fully seated, balls deep inside your cunt, his fat tip kissing your cervix already, making you gasp because of the discomfort.
you feel so full... stuffed to the brim, your juices leaking out around him, making everything slick and messy.
you bite your lip hard, clinging to him tightly, nails digging into his back as you adjust, sobbing softly but trusting him completely.
tsukishima stays still for a moment, letting you breathe through it, his hands roaming gentle over your trembling body, cupping your tits and thumbing your nipples to distract you. “you okay, baby? feels better now?” he asks softly, eyes locked on yours with that rare tenderness. you nod weakly, hips twitching involuntarily and he groans. “god, you’re perfect. my baby likes bein’ full, huh? uh-huh, i can tell— your pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight.”
and then slowly, he starts moving, shallow thrusts at first, still letting you adjust, his cock dragging along your walls in a way that has you moaning brokenly. “mmnnghh kei… oh god, it’s… it’s startin’ to feel g-good…” you whine.
he smirks faintly, he loves how he’s ruining you so sweetly, turning his shy girl into a needy mess. “yeah? that’s my girl. takin’ my cock like you were made for it. fuck baby, you’re so wet… drippin’ all over me.”
he picks up pace, fucking you faster now, his hips snapping harder, the wet slaps of skin echoing in the room— your pussy gushing around him, coating his length in thick creamy white rings.
suddenly, he folds you into half, your knees by your ears, opening you up deeper for him, his cock bullying your cervix with every brutal thrust. “AAAHHHH— keiii...! too deep… m’gonna… oh fuck!” you cry, overstimulated already, mind going mushy as he pounds you senseless, your tits bouncing with every hard thrusts, sweat and slick mixing between your bodies.
“shit, baby, you love it, don’t you? yeah you do, look at you creamin’ on my dick like a slut” he grunts, leaning down to kiss you sloppy. “uh-huh, that’s right— cum for me. let me feel you cum all over this cock.”
that did it.
you shatter, squirting hard around him, soaking him and the sheets, your velvety walls milking him as you babble incoherently, dumbified from the pleasure.
“shiiit— that’s it, baby.. only your first time and you’re squirting already..? fucking hell” he groans deeply but he doesn’t stop, still thrusting through it. still keeping you folded like a pretzel under him.
“good girl, so fuckin’ good… gonna fill you up now, yeah? breed this tight pussy.” and with a final slam, he cums so deep, hot ropes painting your insides, his cum leaking out as he grinds slow
you’re a mess- sobbing, squirting again weakly around his still pistoning cock, clinging to him as he pulls out slow, cum and slick dripping filthy from your ruined hole.
he's such an asshole at work. he micro-manages everything you do and scrutinises your work to an unfairly harsh degree. he doesn't pay attention when you speak, or he just rolls his eyes and dismisses what you say. he talks shit about you behind your back but never leaves a trail so you can't report him to HR.
you didn't want to attend this stupid work night-out, if he was going to be there.
hence, it's honestly quite jarring how the night spins from laughing and having one-too-many glasses of wine with your colleuge at the bar, to you sprawled across his bed while he hits it from behind.
all your clothes have been discarded, and you're so drunk you can't remember whether you took your shoes off at his door or if you lost them during your uber ride home (during which you could hardly keep your hands off each other; the poor driver was probably mortified.)
regardless, none of that mattered now that you were collapsed on his sheets, letting his fat cock ram into your hole over and over, abusing that senisitive spot inside you. he stood at the edge of the bed, holding your hips firmly in place while he drilled into you, but he was so hammered that he was on the verge of losing balance with each rough thrust of his hips. the only way he could steady himself was by leaning forward, so his chest was against your back and his body is pressed closely against yours.
you can feel his laboured breathing against the shell of your ears as he groans, "you're—" his voice hitches, "so, so pretty. my sweet angel." he lazily scatters kisses against your back, pecking at your neck and working his way around your shoulders while his cock continues to plow into your pussy at a delirious rate. the cold lenses of his glasses against your skin almost causes you to shudder.
"kei.." you moan, toes curling at the way he keeps stretching out your creamy cunt. you couldn't get enough of him, hence you arched back into his touch, craving more friction to send you over the edge.
"hm? baby.." he rumbles against your skin, lips dragging lazily against the tender flesh of your neck, "what is it? talk to me."
so sensitive, and barely able to contain yourself, you choke, " 'm close.." the only words your intoxicated mind is able to grasp. and you can feel as the corners of tsukishima's lips tug into a smirk at your pathetic little whimper.
"close? my cute little assistant is ready to cum? that right?" he taunts, running a hand down your bare body and gripping at the meat of your thigh, causing to mewl into his sheets. "want me to fill up that tight hole, huh?" the speed of his thrusts begin to decrease and his hips rock carefully into you, each movement deliberate and teasing, "my perfect angel. that's what you want, right? to be mine. such a good girl."
you nod frantically into the duvet, and try to grind back against his cock but his lethal one-handed grip on your waist prevents you from doing so. but your desperation for stimulation is somewhat satisfied when his other hand trails down to toy with your needy clit, "don't know why i call you names. you're not a stupid whore, are you, baby?" he presses a messy kiss against the angle of your jaw, "no, whores aren't this fucking tight. no, you're an angel. the prettiest angel i've ever seen." his hot breath tickles your skin as he chuckles.
he jovially slaps your clit, the jolt of short-lived escasty causing you to cry out, "please, kei! i need you, please fuck me!" your voice is shaky and there's genuine desperation in your tone, which tsukishima is able to pick up on, even in his inebriated state.
"want more, princess?" he says in a low voice.
"yes.."
he gives you another drunken kiss, against your cheek this time, just at the corner of your lips, "how could i say no to you, beautiful. you're too hot to ignore." his final chuckles echoes through your head as that's the last sounds you're able to process before your brain is fucked straight out of your skull.
he splits you in half and your whole body trembles with each fierce thrust of his dick into your slobbering pussy. his tip doesn't relent at that rough spot on your walls that he knows drives you crazy , and although his aim is inhibited by the several drinks he's had, the pure urgency of his pace alone is enough to cause you cum before you even know what's going on.
"ah, perfect little slut. just like that. cumming all pretty for your boss. so behaved." he groans, caressing your waist lovingly. spasming around his cock, your fluttering walls are not able to prevent tsukishima from continually rutting into you. he's chasing his own high now, aching for a release just as badly as you were, and stopping at nothing until he's climaxed, even as if that means using you as his personal fleshlight for hours while you lay there — overstimulated and fucked-out — under him. well, maybe you weren't there for hours, that could be an exgaration but truthfully, you're unsure. after your orgasm, you were so hazed and blank that your body's internal clock had broken. perhaps you were there for hours, maybe you were only there for a couple seconds.
regardless, the end result was the same. his sticky seed spilling through your insides, coating your slick walls. feeling his cock throb within you ignited something in the pit of your stomach, but he yanked himself out of your pussy before the sensation had an opportunity to foster. not by choice though, he'd keep his cock buried in your tight cunt all night if he could. but the sheer volume of his load that he had deposited inside you, left you so conjested with no room for his dick. instead, he had to heave himself upright so he could watch your puckered little pussy drip with his cum.
"nice n' full." he muses, using his finger to guide whatever cum was staining your folds back into your hole, with a lewd squelch. "my sweet angel."
｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
although that encounter was surreal and left you with an strong (yet entirely inappropriate) yearning for your asshole co-worker, the awkward part was that come the next morning, he didn't seem to remember a single thing.
after the main event, you both collapsed and fell asleep. however, you woke up in the middle of the night to collect your stuff and stagger home, and despite how it's all a little fuzzy, you still retain the majority of your memories from that night.
tsukishima on the other hand, doesn't seem to remember a thing. he didn't acknowledge it once when he saw you in person at work the next day, not even a nudge or a knowing glance. nothing. albeit, he did act a bit more demure in the few days following the incident, but that was likely due to the embarrassment of drinking, and he was back to acting as cruel and irritating-self in no time. with no awareness to the fact he stuffed your cunt full with his seed at the work night-out.
how girm. but perhaps this was for the best, at least his amnesia erases the chance of a HR nightmare. still, you can't help but feel a bit jaded that your entire relationship with him was exactly where it started, because he couldn't remember a thing.
or, at least, that's what you thought. until he notices you working overtime one evening, and drops a box of cream-filled doughnuts at your desk. there's no one around, so he's already snacking on one, and he opens the box to reveal the rest to you. "here." he states bluntly.
you perk up from your desk, and glance between him and box, eyes wide with hope (and suspicion), "for me? why?"
tsukishima shrugs, sauntering away from your desk. but not without first motioning to the part of the doughtnut where the cream poked out, and commenting,
Not quite satisfied about the smut ratio in my last post (Tsukishima Kei - tease me, kiss me). Don’t feel like that’s enough for kinktober so I might erase it from the list (it was a friend’s request so it’ll still be available on my blog).
14.10.25 - He’s actually the first of my fics to reach 100 reposts. I doubted my boy— I wasn’t aware of your game, Haikyuu fandom. My bad fr
Not quite satisfied about the smut ratio in my last post (Tsukishima Kei - tease me, kiss me). Don’t feel like that’s enough for kinktober so I might erase it from the list (it was a friend’s request so it’ll still be available on my blog).
14.10.25 - He’s actually the first of my fics to reach 100 reposts. I doubted my boy— I wasn’t aware of your game, Haikyuu fandom. My bad fr
making you give him head for a better grade; this shit is right out of the sleazeball handbook.
but tsukishima is too fucking worked up to care.
after weeks of you acting like a cocktease from hell, he decided to take matters into his own hands the minute you pulled him aside after class for "help" on your notes.
and now he's finally got your smart little mouth stuffed full of his dick, exactly the way he's been imagining it every time you beam him over the head with your smile.
"this what you wanted?"
he thrusts into your mouth and feels your throat bob down a gag.
electricity zips up his spine.
"don't act like your slutty hole can't take it." his hands are level on either side of your ears as he works his dick in and out of your mouth, eyes gleaming at the drool spilling down your chin. your hands reach to wipe it up, but he catches them and holds them fast. "what, you suddenly care what you look like? worried about how much of a mess you're making?"
the little pants and whines you make around him sing in his blood.
"all you need to do is take it, that's it—made for nothing but sucking dick, huh, baby?"
tears well in your eyes, and your hands struggle in his grip. he imagines you probably want to relieve your mouth of the work.
but rules are rules.
"you don't get to use your hands, remember? or is someone too fucked-out to remember?" he sneers down at you.
you press your thighs together, and he knows how swollen and sticky your poor pussy is, how much he's going to love punishing you later by making you cockwarm him for hours—
his dick pulses on your tongue; tsukishima grips the back of your head as his orgasm approaches.
"be a good little whore and start swallowing."
juice bar 🍹 m.list
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