ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, yearner!best friend!katsuki, fem!afab!sheltered(ish)!virgin!reader, implied oral sex, mention of condoms, kissing pussy through underwear, kissing, makeout, mention of sex, fluffy, friends to lovers, love confession, reader has hair, swearing, reader has parents, erections, both katsuki and reader are in early 20s
ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: this is a reblog from my old account. the reason why i posted this despite it being more recent is because. the dialogue is already colored and im lazy to edit other things
ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: best friend bakugo notices you can't handle kissing scenes
ꉂ ᵎᵎ w/c: ~1.2k
you always cover your eyes when a kissing scene in a movie or show comes on.
it's a habit, one instilled into you by your parents since childhood. that's why, as you and your best friend, katsuki, watched a romance together for the first time, you hadn't even noticed you were still doing it until he pointed it out.
“what are you doing?” he asks, confusion lacing his voice. he shoots you a sideways glance.
you peek at him through your fingers, before slowly lowering your hands. “…nothing,” you mumble. usually when the two of you watched movies, it was him who would choose what to watch— selecting some sort of action-packed film that was so quintessentially boyish and therefore perfect as background noise for when your brain would turn off. needless to say, when you brought up your request for movie night this week, you were rather surprised with how easily he obliged, perhaps more than he was with what you picked out. he simply just expected you to actually watch it, rather than spend most of your time hiding your face from the screen.
his eyebrow lifts, still concerned. “you good?”
“yeah, yeah,” you nod, eyes flicking back to the tv. as if on cue, another kissing scene pops up and your hands reflexively raise to block your vision. the look from katsuki is already expected.
an embarrassed sigh escapes you as you decide explaining things would be easier. “okay, when i was little, i wasn’t allowed to watch kissing, so like now, i don’t know what to do when it comes up as an adult… like if i should watch or look away.”
katsuki's lips purse. “what do you when you actually do it?”
his typical bluntness somehow catches you off guard, and your face swiftly heats up. “i don’t. or like, i mean, i haven’t done it yet.”
“…you for real?”
“stop,” you huff, “don’t even.”
“i’m not even ‘even’—ing — i’m just... surprised. the hell do you do on all those dates you go on?”
“i told you,” you half shrug, your gaze avoiding his, “i just talk and stuff.”
“see,” he rolls his eyes, tsking lightly, “when someone says ‘and stuff,’ it makes you think they’re having sex.“
the blush across your cheeks intensifies, the back of your neck practically on fire at this point. “i… i’m not doing that either, you weirdo,” you stammer. “what i mean is what i say, you know that.”
he shrugs, yet there's something very thoughtful in his expression now. “i guess i just didn’t know how strong your commitment to honesty was.”
“what does that mean?”
“i just… i dunno,” he shrugs again, “i thought you had game.”
“i have game,” you scoff, “i’m just waiting... for the right person.”
he takes pause. “who’s that?”
“who’s what?”
“the right person.”
“i don’t know,” you mutter, “guess when i’ll meet them i’d know.”
another silence falls between you, this one thicker than before. his mouth opens to speak, before closing, and then opening again.
“what if they’re like...” he cuts himself off with a sigh, “...ah, nevermind.”
you tilt your head, curiosity cutting through your nerves. “like what?”
“like… right in front of you.”
you blink.
“...katsuki?”
“i'm sorry,” he mumbles out quickly, moving to stand, “i don't— just forget it...”
“no, katsuki, please— wait,” you reach out to him, your hand landing on his wrist. you take a breath before continuing, mind grappling to make sense of it all. “are you saying you... like me? like...like me?”
his leg bounces. “yeah,” he admits after a beat, voice lower now, like he’s forcing the words out before he can talk himself out of it, “of course i do. but i get if you don't see me that way—”
“no, no—” you reassure, shaking your head, “i do. i do.”
upon hearing your requital, katsuki swallows thickly. after all these years of pining for you in silence, trying to convince himself to just give up his pointless crush, the words leaving your tongue couldn't sound any sweeter. he glances at you again, eyes flicking to your lips before snapping back up, a flicker of nerves flashing across his face as temptation begins to gnaw at him.
“what... what are you doing?” you find yourself whispering as he leans closer.
“can i kiss you?” he murmurs, “please?”
it feels like your heart may nearly burst out your chest at the question. before you can over think it, you nod.
surprisingly, the lips of your best friend are soft as they brush against yours. the kiss is brief, nervous, barely more than a peck, and nothing like the confident katsuki you know, and yet it manages to send a shock straight down your spine all the same. that being said, it surprises you both when your hands find the collar of his shirt in order to pull him back in for another, and even more when the rush of gravity sends the two of you tumbling down onto the floor.
as the kiss intensifies— teeth clashing, tongues exploring, gasps and moans filling the air, it nearly feels like the newly-discovered jaws of passion might consume you whole. you barely clock the hard on in katsuki's pants pressing against your thigh in the heat of it all — too distracted with how naturally his hands entangle themself into your hair — until he pulls away from you with a groan, the weight's absence discernibly missed as he rests his forehead against yours.
still, you don't bring awareness to it, too busy trying to catch your breath. “i...wow...” you manage, wiping your chin of drool with the back of your hand. “is it always like that?”
he shakes his head, clearing his throat with a rough sound. “it's never been that good for me,” he rasps, before a passing thought crosses his mind, “definitely could be better though.”
“better?”
with half-lidded eyes, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s still weighing how much to say out loud. eventually he exhales, the sound quiet and decisive.
“…fuck it,” he mutters under his breath.
carefully, his hands slide down your sides, before settling at your hips— the movement more hesitant than sure, intent on giving you every chance to pull away, yet the question is clear, even if unsaid.
can i fuck you?
“oh,” you mumble, your mouth feeling desert-dry while a heat began to pool low in your core. “i... do you have a condom?”
katsuki nods feverishly, thumbs moving to hook through your shorts' belt loops in order to tug them down. “we're not gonna need that for a while though.”
“w-we're not?"
for the first time tonight, you finally see that familiar smirk spread across his face. you've always said he's had the weirdest humor. and yet, you watch attentively as he lowers his mouth to press a soft kiss to your navel, and then to the lips of your cotton-clad pussy— the fabric positively soaked with arousal now.
content warning: uhhh bakugou is borderline toxic, possessive sex, public sex, p in v, unprotected sex, mention of masturbation, sex in the bathroom of a club (take a shot whenever i say sex), biting, both parties are obsessed with each other don't get it twisted
best friend!bakugou who's a little bit obsessed with you.
he’s always touching you. during movie nights he’s got your feet propped up on his lap, his hand wrapped around your ankle, his thumb digging soothing circles into the bone.
when you’re out in public he has his hand on your lower back, or an arm wrapped around your waist. even when you were with his other friends, he still had at least one hand wrapped around you at all times. the worst was when he was driving you around places, his hand firmly on your thigh where you sat in the passenger seat. and whenever he'd go over a pothole you had to pretend that you couldn't feel his fingertips sliding closer to your clothed cunt.
and some people might call his behavior a bit possessive, maybe even a little alarming, but the only real qualm you had with it was the throbbing in your core whenever his warm hands were on you. there were many late nights spent with your fingers shoved so far deep in your pussy, thoughts of bakugou fucking you in the nastiest ways possible on your mind, his name on your tongue as you come so hard you see stars.
otherwise, it was a non-issue.
until one night, you’re out at a bar with your friends. it was a regular old girls night until you caught the eye of a handsome stranger across the bar. within minutes he's sidling up to you, asking you to dance. and it's not like you had anything to lose—so you follow him to the middle of the dancefloor, your eyes locking with one of your friends so someone knows where you are.
you're drunk, but you aren't completely unaware of your surroundings.
which is why when you see a flash of spikey blonde hair out of the corner of your eye, you roll your eyes. you feel eyes on you immediately, but you pay it no mind, the alcohol in your system dimming the usual need to come when he calls.
you regret ignoring him almost immediately.
one minute you're sliding down the length of the stranger's body, hands in your hair, and the next a hand is wrapped around your wrist, tugging you down the dimly lit hallway towards the bathroom.
stumbling slightly in your too tall shoes, you follow. you know it's bakugou before you even register it, his presence so familiar that you'd be able to pick him out of every crowd by footfalls alone, so you weren't alarmed when he nearly tosses you into the bathroom, the lock clicking shut.
the sound of the club is muffled behind you, but the door does nothing to muffle the roaring in your ears when you finally make eye contact with him.
"bakugou," you acknowledge, mouth drying at the dark look in his eyes.
every muscle in his body is tense, and you suddenly feel like he's a predator about to pounce on his prey. you'd be lying if you said the look didn't make you subtly press your thighs together.
“you were standing too close to him,” he responds coolly, beefy arms crossing over his wide chest.
“standing too—bakugou, I was grinding on him. on purpose!” you exclaim.
“exactly.”
you scrub your hands down your face in frustration. “oh my god, you are impossible.”
he huffs and reaches out for you. you scoff in response and take a step back, your back bumping back up against the door. he takes a step forward, his eyes darkening further to a red so dark it's almost black.
once again, you feel like prey, the apex predator sizing you up before going in for the kill. you try to put space between you two, shrinking back against the door. “no, you don’t get to touch me right now, not after that stunt you pulled back there. I was about to get laid—”
he stalks forward a few more steps until you're practically chest-to-chest, his arms extending to the door on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. “stop talking about it,” he nearly growls, eyes glittering.
“why?” you ask breathlessly, heart thudding in your chest.
“because, I'm the only guy who gets to touch you—the only guy who gets to make you cum.” his voice drops when he says this, so low it's almost a growl.
you feel your nipples tighten in response, your entire body lighting up like a livewire with goosebumps. you already knew you belonged to him without him ever having to say anything, but the confirmation of this knowledge has your cunt nearly gushing
“then do it,” you hear, and it's only seconds after that you realize you were the one who said it.
he grins, his hand slipping down to grip the nape of your neck, loosely wrapping the hair that rests there around his hand, tugging your head back slightly to look directly at him.
the descent of his lips to yours is torturous, and you both hate and love that he's taking his sweet time. but once he's there, it's pure chaos. your teeth click together, and within moments he's licking his way into your mouth, sucking on your tongue and nibbling at your lips.
it's teeth, and tongue, and completely feral, and as he reaches down to hook your leg around his hip, you're acutely aware of how wet you are. he reaches up into your skirt with his free hand, and grips your panties, pulling up roughly and letting out a short laugh at the small "oh!" that comes out of your mouth when the fabric wedges up into you.
then, the sound of fabric ripping has your knees nearly buckling, the feeling of something and then nothing making your head whirl. he pushes your leg off his hip and quickly slides your skirt down, letting it pool on the tile before tugging your shirt and bra off in a very practiced fluid motion.
you reach down, your trembling fingers making quick work of his pants, and you can barely restrain the appreciative gasp when you reach into his boxers to pull his thick cock out. he's hot and hard in your grasp, and your eyes glaze over as you imagine the feeling of him heavy on your tongue.
bakugou tugs your leg to wrap around his hip once again, as though he could tell you were seconds from dropping to your knees and taking him into your mouth.
"easy baby," he coos, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. he then wraps his large hand around the base of his cock, before bumping your clit with the tip. the head of his cock catches another time, then glides through your folds, his pre mixing with your slick, the wet sound a cacophony in the quiet bathroom.
he groans as his cock slips in half an inch, his hips nearly stuttering at the feeling of your pussy. "oh, fuck—she wants me, bad," he mumbles out, and you swear if he doesn't stop talking and just fuck you, you'll cum right here.
"in, in, in," you nearly chant, your eyes rolling back when his head catches on your entrance once again. he pulls your leg tighter against his hip, and when he looks at you under his lashes you feel every last shred of dignity snap. "bakugou, pleasepleaseplease fuck me," you blubber, shaking your head back and forth against the door.
you're convinced that if he isn't inside you in the next thirty seconds, then you'll explode and die and what a wonderful way to go, but—
"fuck," he gasps, slowly pushing his length into you. you can feel every ridge of his cock as he tilts his hips into you, and your vision whitens for a few seconds, the pleasure the most intense thing you've ever felt in your life.
bakugou now has one hand on your hip while the other is still wrapped in your hair, his breath coming out in pants as he slowly starts to move his hips faster. "hah—fuck, you're so—”
"faster," you cry out, curling your hands around his shoulders, your nails biting into his skin.
bakugou lets out a whine when you clench around him, and the sound has you tipping over the edge out of nowhere. your entire body tenses, your eyes slamming shut as your pussy flutters around his cock. he pushes in slowly, his gaze never wavering from your face as you fall apart around him.
he tries to hold off, but it's a battle he loses quickly, and buries himself to the hilt inside of you, stilling entirely as he free falls right after you. he buries his face into the side of your neck, his blunt teeth scraping then sinking into your skin as you feel his warm cum pump into you.
he stays inside of you, even after your orgasms have subsided and the only sound in the bathroom the chorus of your heavy breaths.
he releases his teeth from your neck, his tongue laving over the wound a few times before pressing the gentlest of kisses to it. a hand slides down the length of your body, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit, the aftershocks of your orgasm nearly knocking you over. you clench around him again.
"mine," he grunts, kissing the bite once more before sliding out of you. you shudder at the loss of him, your body falling limply back against the door as your eyes flutter shut, utterly spent. you hear him move, and when you open your eyes, they nearly bug out of your head.
bakugou has shifted to kneel on the floor, and he gently grabs your calf, pressing a soft kiss to it before bracing the back of your knee on his shoulder.
"what, you think I'm done with you?" he croons, a wicked smile gracing his face as he peers up at you from his new position on the floor. "oh baby, we're just getting started."
Katsuki’s voice is a low rasp against the shell of your ear, and he chuckles quietly as you squirm in his lap. He squeezes your thigh, the tips of his fingers tucked beneath your skirt.
Shinsou Hitoshi stands nearby, an unlit joint tucked behind his ear. He laughs at something Kaminari says, dragging a hand through his tousled hair before briefly letting his gaze trail across the room.
And you think Katsuki’s hand slides just a little higher up your skirt on purpose the moment Shinsou makes eye contact with you.
It’s been a little game between you and Bakugou as of late—the fact that he got you to admit you’d be into a threesome. That you’d want it to be with someone in your friend circle.
You just haven’t told him who.
He’s been slowly eliminating candidates, though he was convinced for days straight that it had to be Mina.
But it’s your heartbeat now that gives it away, and you want to kick yourself for not realizing that’s why Katsuki’s had his hand casually resting on your chest all night.
He kisses the corner of your jaw now, teeth brushing against your skin. “Heard he’s got a big dick.”
You swallow. Because yeah, you’ve heard, too.
“Think you can take us both at once?” Katsuki’s nose brushes behind your earlobe.
“Kats—“
“Why am I even askin’ that,” he mutters, and you can practically hear his smirk. “‘Course you wanna be stuffed with two dicks.”
You squeeze your thighs together as you start to feel a little breathless.
“But the real question is…”
It feels purposeful, the way Bakugou trails off when Shinsou approaches the two of you.
“…same hole, right?”
You swallow hard, chest hammering with a rabbit’s heartbeat.
Shinsou holds out the joint, offering you and Bakugou a hit. Bakugou shakes his head, but he looks a little too goddamn pleased with himself when he inclines his head toward you and adds, “She likes to shotgun it, though.”
(And if anyone thinks it’s a little odd that Shinsou’s tongue ends up in your mouth while you’re sitting in Bakugou’s lap—)
(—well. It makes sense later, when the three of you leave together.)
you kabedon suna and watch him almost come undone on the spot, full body tensing up, the tip of his ears blushing, accidentally filming all of it (and replaying it later over and over again when he's back home, pants barely unzipped before he shoves his hand down, stickiness from when he came into his pants earlier)
vs
you kabedon osamu and he just cocks his head to the side and holds your gaze, almost bored if it weren't for the hungry gleam in his darkened eyes; who just goes "are you done? did you have your fun?" with a leg sliding between yours, nudging them further apart, "is it my turn now?" before your knees go weak
bakugou's started with naughty omfnejkk can we get nice 🥹
best friend!bakugou ditched out early from a hero gala where he was supposed to be receiving an award to pick you up from the airport (because your loser boyfriend fell asleep and wasn't answering your calls).
“You don’t have to—Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Katsuki cuts himself off, his careful tone tapering off into a low, choked out groan.
His hips stutter, and a gloved hand skirts the side of your face.
You glance up at him, blinking in an innocent way that wholly contradicts the way your lips are currently wrapped around the tip of his cock.
Katsuki drags a hand through his hair, exhaling a ragged breath. So you take him deeper, revelling in the uncontrolled twitch of his fingers against your jaw.
“I just fuckin’…” He inhales sharply as your tongue circles his tip, spit-slick fingers wrapped around his base, “…got done patrol. Gotta shower or—”
He loses the rest of his sentence somewhere between your hand cupping his balls and the sticky, messy splatter of spit that drips onto the kitchen’s tile floor.
Katsuki’s still in his hero suit, boots and all. His mask is pushed up over his forehead. Smudges of dirt and ash stain his cheeks and neck.
He smells like sweet smoke and gunpowder.
And you’ve barely seen your husband over the past week thanks to the double shifts he’s been pulling.
So it might be just past two in the morning.
He may have found you asleep on the couch when he got in and quietly kissed you on the forehead.
Perhaps you woke up and found him in the kitchen downing a glass of cold water, your heart caught between fondness and affection and that familiar hot, dizzying rush of attraction and arousal that hits you like a truck every time you see Katsuki in his uniform.
The floor tiles are cold and hard against your bare knees. And while you don’t mind, you can practically hear your husband’s predictable internal battle as he agonizes over the discomfort of your position while you’re in the process of sucking his soul out through his dick.
“Baby…” He trails off weakly, voice strained, limbs moving as if he intends to pull you up off of the floor.
You ignore him and grasp his hips, taking him deeper and relishing in the thick weight of his cock on your tongue, the taste of him, the feeling of wet, slippery arousal dripping into your own panties.
His cock stiffens, flared tip rubbing against your cheeks as his balls begin to seize up.
“Fuck,” Katsuki chokes out, hips stuttering, hands gripping the edges of the marble countertop while he spills his release into the heat of your mouth.
You’re still kneeling on the floor at his feet when Katsuki looks down at you after he comes to, chest heaving, eyes hungrily following the bob of your throat while you swallow his cum.
And before you can move, you’re flat on your back, Katsuki’s gloves tossed aside as he climbs on top of you, cups the back of your head, and kisses you hard.
There’s something soothing about the feeling of your tongue lolling against the column of Bakugou’s neck. It’s comforting—lapping and suckling at the slick, salty tang that coats his warm skin.
It settles the restless whimpering of your hind brain that’s been pacing anxiously since the onset of your heat.
You let your teeth sink into his soft skin, biting down, and you begin to salivate at the taste of him as he groans, hips shifting upward. He’s still buried inside of you to the hilt, sticky cum dripping out with each movement while you continue to straddle his lap.
Because the thought of being empty right now—
“You’re so needy, you know that?” Bakugou’s teasing voice is a little hoarse as he exhales, hands splayed over your lower back.
His hands slide down, grasping your backside, and he slowly grinds up into you.
“Katsuki—“ your voice is a small, muffled sound while you drool into the crook of his shoulder.
He inhales sharply, and suddenly there’s a sharp press of teeth scraping over the supple skin just below the corner of your jaw. You whine when he doesn’t let them sink in, doesn’t bite down hard enough to—
(You’re too gone in the haze of heat to be embarrassed over the way you’re practically begging your best friend to give you his mating bite.)
His tongue presses into your skin. You tilt your neck, exposing it further to him. Beckoning.
There’s something like a growl that rumbles in his chest as his nose caresses the spot instead. “Not like this.”
A pitiful, needy sound slips out of you.
His thumb strokes your swollen clit, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes as pleasure shudders down your spine. Bakugou’s mouth slides along the curve of your jaw, lips hovering over yours in an open-mouthed kiss.
“Ask me when you’re not cock drunk,” he says, tongue sliding over your bottom lip. “When you understand what it is that you’re asking for.”
His fingers curl around the side of your neck, thumb swiping over the sensitive spot that aches for the claim of his teeth.
“I need—“ you gasp as he starts to slowly thrust up into you.
“I know, baby. I know,” he huffs in amusement, and the fondness in his tone feels dangerously close to that of a lover.
Bakugou’s mouth finds that spot below your jaw again, and he grasps your hips, each rough stroke of his cock growing deeper, sloppier.
He kisses you there, his lips wet and hot on your skin as the heady wave of pleasure building up inside of you explodes in a white-hot crest, and you come for him again with shuddering, whimpering gasps.
(even if you weren’t already predisposed to nipple orgasms…you think you have cum anyway just from the sight of kuroo’s half-lidded eyes on yours alone, the feeling of his mussed hair beneath your fingers, the rough groan that slips out of him when his lips close over one of your pebbled nipples.)
IF YOU WANNA KNOW HOW (I CAN SHOW YOU RIGHT NOW) miya osamu x f!reader — 1.3k, best friends to lovers speed run, drinking games, dry humping
⏵⏸ spicy sleepover: press play | requested by @sodaneko
“Lap shots!”
“Lap shots!”
“Lap shots!”
A chorus of cheers and chants rings out around the table, and Osamu shoots you a look before letting out a long-suffering sigh in the direction of his brother, Suna, and Bokuto. He takes a sip of his whiskey, sucking his teeth in annoyance after he swallows.
The two of you and Akaashi are the only sober ones, and this is Osamu’s first drink of the night. But you know you’ll be hard-pressed to turn down the game on Atsumu’s birthday.
(It’s Osamu’s birthday, too. Obviously. But his part of the celebration was a nice, low key dinner at an izakaya earlier. The club you’re currently at was all Atsumu.)
You get the entertainment of watching Bokuto climb over Akaashi, who’s quick to move his glasses out of harm’s way before he snatches the plastic shot glass clenched between the former’s teeth and downs it himself with a roll of his eyes.
“Cheater,” Atsumu complains.
Atsumu, on the other hand, spills his all over Suna. Immediately. They’re both too drunk and laughing too hard for him to even make it fully into his lap.
Suna’s giving Osamu a wry look like he’s about to give him the same exact treatment when Atsumu grabs him by the collar of the shirt, dragging him backward, “Ah, ah. Not your turn, Sunarin.”
He looks to you instead with an awful, annoying, shit-eating grin that says, You finally broke up with your dumb boyfriend, so it’s about time you fuck my brother already.
You glare at him.
“Tsumu, she didn’t even wanna come out tonight. She can sit this one out,” Osamu sighs in annoyance.
It’s true, you’ve been hiding out in your apartment and avoiding your friends for the past two weeks. Though not out of any kind of despair over your breakup, but rather because the entire reason he broke it off was because he felt threatened by Osamu being your best friend.
Naturally, you spiralled into an existential crisis over the dark-haired man currently seated beside you. Who you’ve been trying to convince yourself you’re not in love with for longer than you can remember.
And now apparently he’s a threat to men that you’re dating, even if you’ve never so much as even kissed him.
Him and those…biceps. That stupidly attractive accent. His soft smile. His even softer eyes. His—
“What, did ya wear your bad boner pants?” Atsumu asks sweetly.
Osamu growls. “Tsumu, I fuckin’ swear—”
Before they can slip further into their special brand of Miya argument, you quickly slide into Osamu’s lap, and he shuts up suddenly without any further fanfare, gray eyes snapping to yours alarmingly fast.
“Ya don’t—”
“Open up, birthday boy,” you interrupt before he can continue to try and defend your honor, too far gone on your spur of the moment quest now.
You pat his cheek gently.
And Osamu blinks at you several times before he does just that, his pretty, pink lips parting in a way that makes your abdomen churn and your thighs clench. His hands find your hips, at which point you belatedly remember that you’re wearing a skirt, but it’s far too late to feel modest now.
Not when you’re straddling your best friend’s lap. Not when you swear you feel his thumb moving in a slow, stroking motion—just once. Not when you can feel his jeans brushing against your cotton panties.
Not when everything else seems to go quiet in the noisy room. When every other sound seems to take on the muffled quality of being underwater, drowned out by Osamu's soft, patient exhales.
Bokuto makes a sound of protest when you grab the whiskey glass, balking over the sacrilege of using that for shots, and Suna pushes the bottle of vodka in your direction. You ignore them both, taking a sip straight from Osamu’s glass instead.
You don’t swallow. And Osamu’s head is tilted back, so he doesn’t see what's happening.
There’s a stifled sound off to your right that sounds suspiciously like Atsumu, but otherwise they’re all blessedly silent for once.
You shift in Osamu’s lap, nearly swallowing the liquid currently pooled on your tongue when the apex of your thighs meets something firm.
Osamu’s hard.
And you—
You’re—
You rock against him. Just a little. Just once. Just because you can.
Pleasure jolts up your spine, hot and vicious, and Osamu’s grip on your hips tightens. And before you can back out, before you can think better of it, you curl your hand against the side of his neck, thumb pressed against the bottom of his jaw, and you lean in.
You see it—the exact moment Osamu’s calm, steel gaze flickers, a dark, deep, obsidian flood slipping out when he realizes you’re not about to fumble through pouring a drink into his mouth with a shot glass between your teeth.
The exact moment he realizes where exactly the liquid is.
His hand feels hot when it slides to your lower back, fingers spread wide, the pressure of his palm only beckoning you to rock into the cradle of his hips once more.
It’s quiet—the groan that escapes his lips.
Quiet in a way that sets your insides alight, slick heat catching on each notch of your spine.
Quiet in a way that leaves you feeling greedy for more.
And when you spit the whiskey in his mouth, you both catch fire.
Osamu outright drags you against him as he swallows and gasps, hips bucking up against yours once, twice in rough, purposeful drags that leave your cunt swollen and aching. It’s not enough. You can feel the wetness that’s soaked its way into your panties, the cotton now clinging to your slick folds as your skirt rides up with the movement.
You clench around nothing, around the promise of his erection—the denim-clad outline of the tip that kisses your plush, soaked entrance.
“Shit,” Suna mutters.
“Wow,” Bokuto whispers, though it’s loud enough for the entire table to hear. You’re fairly certain you also hear Akaashi smack him.
Osamu’s tongue slides along his lips, head tilting to the side as he smiles at you before reaching out and using his thumb to wipe the stray whiskey from your bottom lip.
“Hey now, it's my birthday, too,” Atsumu teases.
Osamu doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he grabs a cherry from the dish that sits near the edge of the table, placing it against your lips. You’ve been eating them all night.
“Fuck off, Tsumu,” Osamu replies evenly, watching intently as you bite down and tug the bit of fruit from its stem.
It tastes sweeter this way.
–
“Fuckfuckfuck.”
Osamu tastes like whiskey and cherries as he groans into your mouth, hands palming your waist, your shirt lost somewhere on the floor. His large, callused hands sink into the plush grip of your smooth, bare skin, fingertips skirting the edges of your bra.
The give of his couch cushions is far softer than the booth at the club as you rock in his lap once more—this time with purpose.
And with his pants halfway off and your skirt rucked up, all you’re left to contend with for friction are his boxers, the thin material stretched tightly between the flex of his thick thighs and the hard swell of his cock.
“Osamu,” you whine, unable to hide the shaky, desperate neediness that frames each letter as you hump the length of his shaft, pleasure sparking inside of you in scorching, erratic bursts.
“Jesus christ,” he breathes out roughly as he hears the way you say his name, one hand sliding to the back of your head while he watches the way you bounce and writhe in his lap. Leaning in, he slots his mouth against yours, cupping your nape and murmuring, “Come for me.”
Your pleasure explodes as a hot, pulsating orgasm thrashes through you, your cunt spasming against your sticky, soaked panties as you half sob, half mouth into Osamu’s mouth, fingers buried in his hair.
Breathing hard into the crook of his neck, you eventually mumble several minutes later, “So do we like lap shots now?”
Osamu’s head falls against the back of the couch, and he laughs weakly, thumb stroking your hip. He tilts his chin just enough for his eyes to meet yours, and he looks happy.
hi dee :3 i'm a big fan of your writing and ginormous brain, and i love the spicy sleepover concept you've got going !! (sorry for not popping by earlier, i'm a lil shy hfjhdj >~<)
this wknd could i humbly request that you expand upon a certain roommate!kuroo.. omg that post has been living in my brain non-stop for the last 48h.. 🙏
(hihi thank you so much you're so sweet<3<3<3!!!!!!)
night swim
tetsurou kuroo x f!reader
c: 18+ only, pining, roommate!kuroo, semi-public sex, pool sex, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie
SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — HEAT WAVE EDITION
It shouldn’t be weird—treading water after hours in the city pool with Kuroo under a blanket of stars and one dull, flickering street light just outside the chain link fence, the air still thick with the unrelenting humidity of a week-long heat wave.
It shouldn’t be weird that you’re swimming in your underwear, Kuroo’s bright idea to hop the fence and dive in mid-way on your walk back to your apartment from the convenience store too enthusiastic to deny. Too tempting against the uncomfortable, lingering prickle of heat and sweat on your skin after the two of you spent all afternoon trying to fix your one and only shitty, busted air conditioner in the living room.
Kuroo’s been your roommate for nearly two years now, and you’ve accidentally seen each other naked more than a dozen times at this point—it’s become an occupational hazard you’ve long-since come to terms with.
(At least, you’ve lied to yourself enough to say as much.)
It wouldn’t be weird, if your stupid, traitorous heart would settle back into place behind your rapidly expanding ribcage, if it would let you continue to deny the inconvenient, messy feelings that have settled down roots deep inside of you as of late.
Roots that sprouted to life at the strange, funny feeling that unfurled inside of you at the odd expression on Kuroo’s face when you told him you finally broke up with your cheating boyfriend six months ago.
Roots that dug their tendrils in even tighter as his room suddenly seemed all too quiet at night, his casual hookups dwindling dry.
(Roots that threatened to choke you the first time you realized you’d accidentally moaned his name into your pillow as your vibrator tipped you over the edge of a trembling, gushing orgasm.)
But it’s too late to backtrack this monumentally disastrous decision, not now that your ill-fated splashing match (an effort to derail the feelings simmering in your gut) finds you caged in against the side wall of the in-ground pool.
You’re a deer caught in headlights beneath his triumphant, smirking gaze—if the deer was secretly begging to get fucked by the goddamn car, that is.
You haven’t quite decided if it’s better or worse that you’re not wearing your usual comfortable weekend undergarments at the moment, a now-cancelled date (which you’d swiped right on solely with the misguided hope of fucking Kuroo out of your system) finds you still wearing a new lacy pink bra, your nipples clearly exposed through the sheer fabric, and matching thong. Soaking wet and clinging to your skin, neither are doing much to hide the swell of your breasts or the swollen outline of your throbbing clit.
Water splashes gently against the side of the pool, and though you’re not certain who stops laughing first, you find yourself quietly staring at Kuroo and his damp, messy hair and stupidly handsome face.
“What happened to your date?” he asks suddenly.
“He cancelled,” You swallow, trying to play it off as you wave a hand at yourself. “Waste of a new outfit.”
Kuroo’s voice is a little rough as he replies, “His loss.”
“Is it?” you ask quietly.
He stares at you for a moment, seemingly thinking something over before he finally speaks. “You’re not as quiet as you think.”
Though you’re fairly certain you know exactly what he means, you still sputter out, “I—”
You’ve made an unfortunate habit of it ever since the first time—slicking up your vibrator to thoughts of a tall head of unruly black hair and hazel eyes. Plunging the silicone toy in and out of your cunt to the fantasy of how Kuroo’s deep voice would sound against the shell of your ear.
“Is it fucked up,” Kuroo breathes out in a gravelly tone, one finger feathering over the strap of your new bra, “that I don’t want anyone else to see you in this?”
“Do you think it’s fucked up?” you ask.
His answering laugh is low and self-deprecating as he drags a hand through his hair, rogue strands sticking up in the wake of his fingers. “I mean it’s definitely fucked up how many times I’m gonna jerk off thinking about how your tits look right now.”
The heat simmering in your chest flares white-hot, and your throat goes dry.
“I feel like your view might be a little obstructed,” you tell him, swallowing hard.
He chokes out another laugh, incredulous, like despite the fact that he knows you moan his name while you’re masturbating, he can’t believe that you’re insinuating you want to dump your tits out for him in this public pool in the middle of the night.
“Yeah?” he asks.
You nod, reaching behind you to unhook your bra, and an insistent lick of arousal crawls up your spine at the way he mutters, “Fuck,” under his breath as your soaking wet, naked breasts are inches away from his own bare chest.
Reaching down, you tug him a hair closer by the waistband of his boxers, biting your lip at the feeling of his erection that’s now pressed against your thigh.
“Fucking perfect,” he exhales, carefully reaching up to cup your tits in his hands, eyes darkening at the soft little moan you let out when he strokes his thumb over your pebbled nipples. “You’re so fucking perfect, you have no idea.”
And then you’re gently caressing the nape of his neck, and all it takes is a soft whisper of his name from your lips to have his mouth crashing into yours.
It’s messy and it’s desperate and it’s perfect, the way Kuroo’s lips fervently slide across yours, his tongue dancing across the seam of your lips until they part, the kiss deepening into something that has you dizzy with heady, unrestrained desire.
“Kuroo,” you whimper as he presses you flush against the wall, his cock a rock hard line against the puffy swell of your pussy.
And then you press back into him and nearly see stars at the friction, and he groans, rocking forward into you in turn. You spread your legs a little wider, halfway tempted to just wrap yourself around his waist and rub your cunt against his thick length, and clearly he has the same idea—because he grabs hold of your thighs and murmurs, “Keep going.”
You’d be more than a little worried about getting caught, if Kuroo wasn’t swallowing down each of your increasingly lewd moans and whines with rough, hungry kisses, sloppy trails of spit hanging between your mouths each time your lips part for air.
It feels so fucking good—dragging your cunt up and down his length, your nerve endings flaring with hot, sharp bursts of pleasure.
But it’s not enough, not when you can feel just how big his cock is, when your pussy is pathetically clenching around nothing with each thrust.
You don’t realize you’ve moaned the same words out loud that you whine in the dark in your room until Kuroo curses, his grip on your hips tightening as he outright drags you against him.
“Fuck me, Kuroo.”
Almost the same words—
“That’s not what I heard you say last night,” he rasps, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger.
You stare at him for a beat before you slowly say, “Fuck me, Tetsurou.”
Kuroo groans, his forehead falling against yours, and he kisses you roughly before reaching between your bodies, tugging aside your thong to slide his fingers through your slick folds. Even despite the water you’re currently swimming in, slick arousal coats the walls of your cunt, and you nearly come right then and there as he appreciatively moans as he explores your tight, desperate hole with one thick finger, which is soon joined by a second as he stretches you open.
By the time he starts teasing the head of his shaft against your slit, you’re two seconds from begging for it, a sob on the tip of your tongue as your fingers claw into his back.
He chuckles.
The fantasy of your vibrator is nothing compared to the fat stretch of Kuroo’s cock as he finally sinks past your quivering entrance, burying his shaft balls deep in the choking, clenching grasp of your cunt.
It’s nothing compared to the way Kuroo’s hips snap into yours as he holds you in his grasp while he fucks you right there in the pool, your tits bobbing in and out of the water with each plunge and drag. The wrecked manner in which he murmurs your name, the possessive way his hands roam your body, like he knows you nearly fucked someone else tonight.
(The way he fucks you like he knows you wanted it to be him all along.)
“Tetsurou,” you breathe out.
“I was wrong,” he gasps as he tries to bully his dick in even deeper, as you hump into him in turn, greedy for every inch.
“About what?”
“I thought you ruined me for anyone else the first time I heard you moan my name through the wall.” He exhales, pulling out before thrusting back inside of you. “But that doesn’t even come fucking close to this.”
You’re not entirely sure what’s the catalyst for the sudden climax that explodes within you—your pent up desire, the thumb he’s currently stroking across your throbbing clit, the raw honesty of his words.
All of it, likely.
Given the way you nearly black out under the force of your trembling, gushing orgasm, Kuroo groaning at the way your pussy expands and contracts against the stretch of his shaft, lost in an overload of pleasure.
“Inside,” you gasp out at the unasked question that lingers on his face as his own peak approaches.
Kuroo’s answering kiss is filthy as he groans into your mouth, cock pulsing heavily as he spills rope after rope of hot cum inside of you, filling you deep.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes out, forehead falling against yours as his orgasm tapers off, his shaft still nestled inside of you.
You float there in comfortable silence for a few moments, Kuroo pressing soft kisses along the side of your face.
“So—”
He freezes, waiting for whatever it is that you’re about to say.
You continue, “I don’t feel very confident in my ability to jump back over that fence now.”
Given the nearly liquified state of your sated limbs, which feel damn near close to jelly as your legs remain wrapped around Kuroo’s waist.
“The lock on the gate is broken anyway,” he shrugs.
You balk, “Then why’d you make me climb it in the first place?!”
He shrugs, not looking anywhere near apologetic as he replies casually, “Your ass looked good in those shorts.”
“Oh, it’s not a problem. How long will yours take to get fixed?”
“Trying to get rid of me already?”
“Aw, how did you guess?” you say, rolling your eyes. “Actually, I’m just asking because I know it must be a hassle having to come here just to shower.”
“Maybe I should just move in at this point.” Kuroo sighs, shutting the bathroom door behind him as he enters your small kitchen, dressed comfortably in sweatpants and a black t-shirt with a fluffy white towel draped about his shoulders. He leans against the counter beside you as you busy yourself with cooking eggs for breakfast, watching fondly as you focus on the task before you. “The landlord told me that the plumber should come over in a couple of days.”
“First your heating, now your plumbing, whatever next?” you chuckle.
“The perks of being a student,” he drawls sarcastically.
“Are you sure this isn’t a ploy to use my expensive shampoo?”
“Smell my head and find out.”
“You’re so weird.”
You turn off the heat and plate up your food before turning to your best friend to say something witty, only to suddenly find that your tongue is too heavy to speak. The first thought that crosses your mind is ‘how have I never seen this before?’ The second is that you hope he can’t feel the burning heat radiating from your cheeks from where he stands. You’re quiet as you stare at him, half admiring, half amazed.
His hair lies flat, unlike the usual unruly, gravity-defying mess of black that sits on his head. It’s still a little damp, slowly drying in the warmth of your apartment, a lone droplet of water dripping from the ends and landing on his towel. It hangs in his eyes a little more than usual and the urge to run your fingers through it overwhelms you - it just looks so soft.
“What?” he asks, cocking his head to this side.
“Hm?”
“You’re staring.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
Without missing a beat, you mirror him. “Maybe because I didn’t know your hair could do that.”
He makes a noise of confusion. “Do what?”
“Go flat. I thought it was impervious to the laws of physics.”
Kuroo snickers, running a hand through his hair almost bashfully and you’ve never felt so jealous of a hand in your whole life. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“It’s like finding out that the tooth fairy isn’t real.”
“My hair isn’t a mythical creature.”
“Clearly not. What’s your secret if not magic?”
Kuroo can’t help the grin that splits his face and he shakes his head as he laughs at the pout on your lips. “Bad habits.”
Huffing, you fold your arms over your chest. “It even looks softer.”
“It’s always been soft,” he frowns.
“I wouldn’t know,” you shrug.
“Then touch it,” he says, tipping his head towards you. It’s too tempting an offer to pass up, one that makes you giddy and fluttery inside. You feign resignation with a heavy sigh.
“Fine.”
Sinking your fingers into his hair makes your heart ache wonderfully because he was right - it is soft. The strands are silky between your fingers as you gently comb them through his thick mop of hair. Now that you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop and Kuroo is clearly enjoying the attention, humming and subtly pushing his head into your hands as you scratch at his scalp - like an overgrown cat. You catch the scent of his own shampoo, fresh and masculine and dangerously pleasant.
“I guess you really didn’t use my stuff,” you murmur.
“I did say.” Reluctantly you remove your hands from his hair and he raises his head a little to look at you. There’s a gentle twinkle in his warm eyes, an even gentler smile on his face that one could easily mistake for adoration. His voice is hushed, face inches from yours. “Your fingers felt nice.”
“I could tell,” you whisper. “I really thought you were about to start purring there.”
His cheeks flush pink with embarrassment and you giggle, tentatively reaching out to brush his fringe back. “If you carried on, I might have.”
All of a sudden, you become hyper aware of how close he is to you, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips - so close that if you inched forwards just a little, you could kiss him. You wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. For a moment, you’re convinced he is because his eyes flutter and he wets his lips as his eyes flicker down to your mouth for the briefest second. But then he slowly straightens up and you have to squash the disappointment that blooms in your chest as he clears his throat.
“i love you.” suna murmured against the top of your head.
the words were whispered so softly that you wondered if you had even heard him right — if he had even realised that he had announced his thoughts out loud. but then, like a tide rolling back to the shore, the same words escaped from his lips again.
you knew he loved you.
everyone did.
in fact, he couldn’t pass a single day without one of the twins making a remark, teasing him about just how downbad he was for you.
still, it almost felt surreal to hear him say those three words out loud for the first time. not in some extravagant way, but with a quiet sincerity that made your heart clench.
you propped yourself up, relieving his body of your weight as you hovered just above him, caging his tall frame between your arms.
“rin?”
suna hummed in acknowledgement, looking up at you through heavy lidded eyes. his gaze darted down to your lips for a split second, and that was all the notice you had before his fingers tangled into your hair, pulling you down. his lips met yours in a soft but earnest kiss, shoulders immediately relaxing against your touch.
“say it again.” you whispered against his lips when you pulled away, breath fanning against his lips.
suna frowned at you, his body instinctively moved forwards, eyes still trained on your lips.
“say what?” he huffed out, a small pout forming on his lips. his mind so consumed by your proximity that it took him more than a few seconds to register the meaning of your words.
you waited with a knowing smile.
one second.
two seconds.
three.
his eyes shot wide open in realisation, and almost instantly, a redness flushed through his cheeks. turning his head away from yours, he raised up his arm over his face in an attempt to hide himself from your teasing grin.
a small laugh escaped your throat. it was rare enough for you to be able to fluster the suna rintarou, yet alone to see him blushing a deep shade of crimson.
“hey.” you said softly, gently prying his arm away from his face.
suna grumbled under his breath, but he complied, letting you intertwine your fingers between his. you gently tiled his face towards you, and when his eyes finally met yours again, your voice got caught in your throat.
you swallowed, heart thumping heavily against your chest.
it wasn’t that because the words were difficult to say — they never had been. but the way his eyes softened with a glimmer of hope made sent butterflies swirling in your stomach, a warmth blooming in your chest.
he loves you.
you didn’t waste another beat, words spilling from your lips when you finally uttered the words you’ve held close to your heart for so long.
Glad you're here – Kyotani x reader
wc 651 – gn!reader
Kyotani never had anyone cheer him on for a game since he joined the Sendai Frogs. Tsukishima’s friends and brother would be there every other game, despite his ungrateful attitude, and Koganegawa had a lot of family and friends come see him, so he pretty much always had someone. Meanwhile, Kyotani would just busy himself with warming up and keep his eyes on the floor or the net, brushing off any comfort his teammates might try to provide.
You and Kyotani had not been dating for very long. It had grown from something shy to something sweet, but you were both new to the whole open affection thing and preferred dates in the safety of your homes. It’s not that you didn’t go out at all, you’d been to the cinema just the other day, and that morning you’d grabbed a coffee together before he had to go to work.
Still, he never asked you to go to his games. Just the thought of asking for it made him grumble in fluster, worried it was too much to ask for or somehow a weird thing to want.
Who openly admits they want someone to cheer for them, and them only?
You were none the wiser of his mental struggles and decided to surprise him by showing up to his game.
Kyotani warmed up as usual, but there was this odd feeling like he was being watched. It shouldn’t be odd, he was in the middle of a volleyball court and they were about to start, lots of people could be looking at him, but this was different. His heart was beating faster, and he slowly turned around, eyes searching the stands.
And he found you almost immediately.
Because he didn’t know you were coming and couldn’t give you his jersey, you wore a frog-themed bucket hat. The neon green kind with eyes sticking out at the top. Their merch could be quite expensive, so you made your own sign with his name on it and lots of doodles around it, making it stand out. With a happy but unsure smile, you gave him a subtle wave, thinking that he might not want to make a big deal of it.
Kyotani took a long, deep breath and slowly let it out, before the biggest smile you’d seen on him yet took over his face. He held up his arm, knitting his fist and giving you a signal that he’d fight bravely.
You returned the gesture with a giggle that melted into the loud cheers from the rest of the crowd, but Kyotani knew the sound well enough that his mind provided the vocals.
Kyotani hadn’t played this hard in a long time. The commentators couldn’t keep his name out of their mouths, and all the cameras kept panning to him. Everyone questioned what got him so fired up until the whistle blew for their break. As if on command, Kyotani sprinted right in your direction, jumping over the divider and jogging up the stairs to your row. He had an urge to hug you, but stopped himself at the last second and ended up just staring at you and trying to catch his breath.
With a gleeful chuckle, you opened your arms, urging him to lean down and capture you in a sweaty hug. Koganegawa was making some loud comment somewhere in the distance, but Kyotani couldn’t care less, even knowing the cameras might have caught the vulnerable moment. He was just so happy to see you were there for him.
After indulging in the hug for as long as he could allow himself, but not nearly long enough, he stood back up with flushed cheeks and rubbed the top of your hat. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
You pushed his hand away playfully and lifted the hat back up so you could look at him, stars in your eyes. “Me too.”
masterlist
requested by @knoxing-around for don't forget me<3
thamk @cottonlemonade for helping me adjust the ending<3
kianamaiart
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
2087
kaledo-art
