#bokuto x reader

[rrk-r]

You were chilling in the living room when an idea crossed your mind. You grin, already holding back a laugh as you hear your fiancé walking down the stairs.

“Babe, can you grab me a drink?” You ask not looking up from your phone.

“I shall cherish my wife” He grins to himself. (what a dork)

“Fiancé,” You correct him, giving him a ‘haha, I know that makes you mad’ look. He catches your gaze before turning around to open the fridge.

“Whatever makes my wife happy” You can see his hand and forearm muscles clenching from the grip on the fridge handle.

He walks up to you, handing you the drink you asked for.

“Good boy,” You say, biting back a laugh the moment you see his face.

He looks at you then quickly around the room for any camera or someone who could possibly see what he is about to do-

He giggles, GIGGLES. Before he quickly masks it with a forced cough. He clears his throat twice and fixes his hair.

“Mind saying that again?” Your jaw hits the floor.

“Excuse you?”

“I didn't quite.. hear you” he repeats, fixing his collar and standing up straighter. You try.. Really try not to laugh… or cry. Because this man looks adorable. He has a cheeky smile, his dimples showing up.. his hands in front of him. You can almost see him rocking on his feet from excitement.

“Ah.. wait, if I get you another thing, you will repeat it?” he doesn't wait for your response; he's already moving. He walks in and out of the kitchen, a snack his hand. He gently, like it's a secret, places it beside you.

Your fiancé takes a step back, admiring his “work”. He raises his eyebrows, smiling and waiting for you to say it.

You look at the snack.. back at him. This man.. You think to yourself. He's so stupid..

He clears his throat, gesturing with his hand to continue, still smiling.

“Oh right, forgive me. Thank you” He quickly shakes his head.

“The other thing” You squint your eyes at him.

“Thank you, my beloved husband..?” He shakes his head again.

“Not that.. I mean, I like it, but the other thing you said earlier.” You sigh in defeat, opening the bag of chips.

“You're serious? You want me to really, really call you that? Isn't it embarrassing?” He groans before walking towards you on the couch and sits down in front of you. His chin on top of your knee, arms wrapped around your legs.

“Please?” He pouts. POUTS. THIS GROWN ASS MAN-

“Ugh.. fine.” You reach your hand and pet his hair gently. “Good boy” You cringe but laugh shortly after when he licks your knee.

“EW! STOP!” The sound of your laughter and squirming away from him fills the room.

“Say it again” He laughs too, crawling on top and pushing you down on the couch, trappong you under his body weight.

“No” You try to sound serious, but fail miserably. “DON'T!” You squirm again, as he starts tickling you.

“PLEASEEE, SAY IT AGAIN” he laughs, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, hiding his OBVIOUS blush on his face.

“Maybe on our wedding night”

a/n: He couldn't wait till then.. sorry not sorry.

I love being delusional sm ꈍ◡ꈍ

edit:I wrote snake instead of snack..

[biggianteggplant]

"Operation: Sit, Bounce, Vanish"

Just Y/N casually grinding and bouncing on them then proceeds to get up and leave lol

KUROO TETSURO

Kuroo was manspreading like he paid rent just to do that. Hair messy. Shirt slightly wrinkled. Smug expression baked onto his face like it was his full-time job. He looked like the human equivalent of a “you up?” text.

You stared. Then smirked. Then slowly—without a word—walked over and shoved him onto the couch with the grace of a goddess and the menace of someone who’s waited exactly three weeks and four hours for this moment.

“Whoa—okay, hi,” he chuckled, arms up like he was ready for a good time. “You finally giving in, huh? Couldn’t resist me?”

You didn’t answer.

You straddled him. Dead silent. No smile. Eyes locked.

And then you started moving.

Slow grind. Full bounce. Nothing wild, just enough to make him twitch like a malfunctioning robot. The pressure? Exactly dangerous. The eye contact? Murderous.

He choked on a breath.

You moaned.

“T-tetsu..u~”

Like it was the climax of a soap opera. Like you were standing on a balcony in the rain in a gown screaming your dying lover’s name. Like you were about to win a BAFTA for this role.

He blinked. “H-hey, uh—babe?” His voice cracked like cheap glass.

Your hands rested on his chest.

You moaned again. Softer. Darker.

Then… you stopped.

Got up.

Walked off.

Deadpan face. Not a single look back. Not a word. Not a smirk.

Kuroo sat up so fast he nearly pulled a back muscle. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait—what just happened?”

Silence.

“…Was that revenge? What did I do? BABE? WHAT DID I DO???”

He stood, nearly tripped over air, and yelled into the hallway.

“I—I LIKED YOUR INSTAGRAM POST. I SWEAR. I DIDN’T FORGET OUR ANNIVERSARY. PLEASE, WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”

You, meanwhile, were in the kitchen calmly eating cereal like none of that happened.

Kuroo, clutching the back of the couch, whispering to himself: “…I’m in danger.”

KENMA KOZUME

Kenma was in the zone—shoulders hunched, headset on, fingers moving with sniper-level precision. You could hear the quiet tapping of his keyboard, the occasional mutter under his breath, and the distant sound of his teammate yelling, "LEFT! LEFT—NO, YOUR OTHER LEFT!"

You approached silently, sock-footed like a cat with bad intentions.

He didn’t notice you at first. Typical. Zoned in.

Until you casually climbed into his lap like it was your god-given throne.

He froze.

“…You good?” he mumbled, barely glancing at you, one hand still on the mouse.

Then you started soft grinding—gentle movements, slow and warm. Nothing aggressive. Just… suggestive. Cozy. Dangerous.

You leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “K..kozume~..hnn” you whispered.

The sound of gunfire blasted through his headset.

He paused mid-match.

Dead silent.

His cheeks flushed pink instantly, ears visibly heating. “...You’re being weird again.”

But his fingers slowly slipped off the keyboard. And he hit ESC.

HE PAUSED AN ONLINE MATCH. FOR YOU.

“Okay…” he mumbled, voice small, clearly rattled. “I guess I can play later.”

You smiled. Just a little.

Then without a word—you stood up and walked away.

Kenma sat there. Motionless.

He stared at the empty space on his lap like it had just punched him in the heart.

“…You can’t just cause emotional lag and leave,” he muttered, still stunned. “I—I PAUSED FOR YOU. That was ranked…”

In the distance, your soft laughter echoed like a final killcam.

BOKUTO KOUTARO

Bokuto was sprawled on the couch, legs wide, phone angled up, watching volleyball highlight reels like they were gospel. He was in the zone—nodding, hyping himself up, whispering “That’s how you block, baby, YES,” like he hadn’t watched the same clip five times.

You walked in with an expression that said destruction was on the menu and Bokuto was the special.

“Hey babe!” he greeted loudly, full beam smile. “You wanna see this cool spike from—”

You didn’t answer.

You straddled him.

He blinked. “…Oh.”

And then you started.

All in.

Full bounce. Hands draped dramatically behind his neck like a diva about to faint from the tension. Whimpers, soft moans, and your voice drawing out: “hngh..k-kou..a-aa~” Like he was a forbidden snack and you were on a juice cleanse.

His brain fried.

Completely.

“UH—UH—BABE?!” he half-yelled, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure where to touch, where to look, whether to cry or scream.

He was absolutely flustered, mouth slightly open, cheeks red, heartbeat syncing with every grind. Volleyball highlights? Forgotten. There was only you and his complete mental shutdown.

You gave a final whimper. Rested your forehead against his.

Then stood up.

And left.

Just.

Walked out.

Bokuto stared at the empty air where you once were. Still seated like a cursed statue.

“…BABE?!”

He launched up from the couch, flailing after you.

“HELLO?! WHAT WAS THAT?! COME BACK!! I WAS ENJOYING THAT! I WAS SO INTO IT!! DO IT AGAIN!!”

In the kitchen, you stirred your drink in silence, deadpan, as if you hadn't just mentally exploded a man with fully-clothed cardio.

Bokuto, clinging to the doorframe like a war widow: “I’M WHIPPED AND I DON’T CARE. PLEASE.”

AKAASHI KEIJI

Akaashi was having a peaceful afternoon. Chamomile tea. A book with too many footnotes. Lo-fi playing like the world made sense.

And then—you entered.

Dead silent. Eyes locked on him like judgment day just arrived in thigh-high socks.

He glanced up. "Hello, love," he said, suspicious but polite.

You didn’t answer.

You climbed into his lap like you had a mission, and his thighs were the launch pad.

His hands stayed frozen mid-page.

Then—bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

Soft and sinful, like a PG-13 exorcism. “K-keiji..h-ha-a~” you moaned.

A single vein in his forehead twitched. He blinked slowly, like a man calculating whether this was a dream, a prank, or divine punishment.

“Darling,” he said with dangerous calm, “what is this?”

But he was already gone. Mentally wiped. That page of the book? Unreadable. Text? Just blurry noodles. You were bouncing like this was a demonic ritual and he was the altar.

Then—you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

And LEFT.

You LEFT.

No explanation. No tongue. Not even a "brb."

Just... air.

Akaashi didn’t move for five whole minutes. Eyes glassy. Tea still steeping. Book sliding off his lap in slow motion.

Inside his head:

“Is this psychological warfare? Did I forget an anniversary? Did I accidentally vote for something evil in a group chat?”

Out loud, monotone: “…That was… bold of you.”

Another five minutes passed.

Still motionless. Still on the couch. The scent of your shampoo lingering like a war crime.

He finally muttered, “…Was I supposed to say something? Applaud? Cry? Ascend to heaven?”

Then he picked up his phone. Opened a group chat titled: “📚 Book Men and Bokuto.”

Akaashi:

She bounced on me, moaned my name, then left. What does it mean.

Bokuto:

BRO SAME I’M STILL BREATHING HEAVY SHE’S A MENACE 😭

Kuroo:

Just accept it. We’re dating chaos in eyeliner.

Akaashi looked out the window. Took a long, exhausted sip of his now-cold tea.

“…I am suffering. Elegantly.”

GOSHIKI TSUTOMU

Goshiki was chillin’. Hoodie on. Headphones in. Probably listening to something overly dramatic like the Haikyuu soundtrack or a TED Talk on mental resilience.

He didn’t stand a chance.

You walked in with zero warning. No explanation. No mercy.

Before he could say, “Huh?” you pushed him gently onto the bed. Straddled him. Planted yourself down like he was your chair and life was a stage.

Then you started bouncing.

Soft, slow. Intentional.

“Tsutomu..h-ha..why are so w-warm..hngh~” you moaned — drawn out, sugary-sweet, like you were reading it off a Wattpad page in real time.

His whole body seized up.

“W-WHAT THE—?!”

Hands flailed. Legs went stiff. Brain? Overheated. He felt like someone had kicked his soul out his spine.

You leaned in closer, let out the tiniest whimper — not loud, but close. Just enough to make his ears turn red and his heart go supersonic.

And then—you LEFT.

Just. Got. Up. No closure. No forehead kiss. You just dipped like this was some random Tuesday ritual and not his villain origin story.

He sat there frozen. Mouth parted. Chest rising and falling way too fast.

Then—he whimpered.

Just a tiny, high-pitched noise. Unplanned. From the throat. Like his soul sighed through his mouth.

“…Ahh—” Immediately slapped a hand over his lips. “WHY—WHY DID I MAKE A NOISE?!”

He flopped backwards dramatically, arms spread like a Shakespearean corpse.

“She’s going to kill me one day… and I’ll thank her.”

Face still bright red. Still hearing the sound of your voice like it was echoing in a cathedral. Still lowkey hoping you’d come back and do it again so he could “react better this time” (he wouldn’t).

And in the hallway, you smiled.

Mission: chaos. Status: accomplished.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

Ushijima Wakatoshi was doing his usual — sitting on the couch like a fortress, silently eating protein snacks and watching volleyball footage like it was the evening news.

Then she walked in.

Confident. Calm. Dressed like danger.

He didn’t even blink when she shoved him back gently onto the cushions and straddled him. That wasn’t what alarmed him. He’d seen many unorthodox warm-ups in his time.

Then—

Bounce. Bounce. “Wakatoshi~”

She moaned it with full anime-level dramatics, sultry and slow like she’d been practicing. Her hands went on his shoulders for balance, hips rocking in steady rhythm. Fully clothed. No actual plan. Just chaos and vibes.

Ushijima’s brows pulled together.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, voice low and deadly serious. “Is this… a new kind of stretch?”

You didn’t answer. You just gave one last confident roll of your hips, leaned in like you were going to say something profound…

And then you walked away. Like nothing happened.

Left him there on the couch — straight posture, blank expression… and fully hard.

Silence.

He stared straight ahead at the door like it had just personally betrayed him.

Took one slow breath through his nose. Chest rising just slightly.

“She’s strange,” he murmured. “I love her.”

Looked down at himself. Back up. Then whispered, louder this time:

“…She’s going to come back, right?”

Pause.

No answer.

He sat there, motionless. Internally screaming. Externally still built like a demigod statue.

Conclusion: Training couldn’t prepare him. Love is terrifying. And he’s going to need to shower cold water and repentance.

SHIRABU KENJIRO

Shirabu was minding his business, sitting cross-legged on the floor, skimming through his notes like he wasn’t 100% hot in a cardigan. Completely in peace.

Then she came in like a war crime.

With purpose. With eyebrow energy. With chaotic woman agenda.

She straddled his lap like he owed her rent and started bouncing. Not wild. Just steady. Unbothered. Calculated. Evil.

“jiro...h-ha!~” She moaned his name like it was the finale of a play and she was up for a Tony.

He blinked. His soul buffered.

“Tch. You’re annoying.” Tone flat. Words sharp. Voice trembling like a wet cat.

But his whole face was glowing red like a strawberry in denial. Hands on his knees. Back perfectly straight. Losing his will to live one slow grind at a time.

She gave one final roll of her hips. Then stood up like it was jury duty and left.

Walked away. Blank face. Like she didn’t just emotionally obliterate him.

He sat there in stunned silence. Hands still on his knees like he was in timeout.

Then he snapped.

“...I—HEY! WAIT! I didn’t mean it like that!”

Scrambled to his feet like he was being evicted from peace.

“Come back! I meant like... annoying in a cute way?? Like—you’re MY annoying?!”

Voice cracking, ego gone. Left behind, staring at the empty space where she used to be, gripping his own hair like a man who just said “I don’t care” and then immediately cared so hard.

HINATA SHOYO

Hinata was chilling on the bed, humming to himself and swinging his legs like a golden retriever who just discovered a new flavor of yogurt.

He didn’t notice her creeping up until it was too late.

Suddenly—

BOOM.

She dropped onto his lap like the final boss of temptation and started bouncing. Full send. Championship-level rhythm. Gold medal-worthy grind. Fully clothed but somehow emotionally naked.

Leaning in, she whispered into his ear, dripping honey and chaos:

“Sho~”

He flatlined.

“WH-WHA—BABE?! ARE YOU OKAY?!” His soul ejected through his nose. Brain? 404 not found. His hands were in the air like he was under arrest by the goddess of seduction herself.

She didn't stop. Just grinded harder. Whimpering softly. Like this was HER volleyball final and she was spiking with every bounce.

And then—HE MOANED.

A tiny, breathy “nn–ah,” like his dignity was trying to claw its way out of his throat and failed.

And then she LEFT. Skipped away. Humming. Like she just didn't emotionally set him on fire and walk away like an arsonist in glitter.

He sat there, cross-eyed. Face red. Hands on his chest like he just got hit by a car made of hormones.

“Oh my god.” “Oh my GOD.” “I’m in love. I’m in danger. I need water.”

Collapsed backwards into the bed like his body just said “I forfeit.”

TSUKISHIMA KEI

Tsukishima was on the couch, headphones on, pretending he didn’t need love or attention, when she pounced.

Literally pounced.

One second: peace.

Next second: Lap. Bouncing. Moaning.

“Tsukki” She purrs it in his ear like a cursed ASMR channel sent straight from hell.

He freezes. Eyes wide. Neck stiff. Blush detonates. You could roast marshmallows on his cheeks.

“Ugh. What are you doing?” His voice comes out flat. Emotionless. Lying. Lying through his damn teeth.

She keeps going. Little playful grind here, tiny whimper there, body warm against his in all the worst-best ways. Then—

She gets up. Walks away. Like she didn’t just shake the foundation of his emotional stability.

He’s left sitting there, arms folded, jaw clenched like a Victorian man whose ankle was just exposed.

Pushes up his glasses with a trembling hand “Why are you so weird.”

Deadpan voice. Wild panic.

Later, Yamaguchi walks in to ask if he wants to go out, only to find Tsukki sitting there, still pink, glasses fogged up, muttering to himself:

“I hate her. I love her. I hate her. I need her to do that again.”

KITA SHINSUKE

Kita was folding laundry.

FOLDING LAUNDRY.

Peaceful. Domestic. Soft music playing. He had just finished lining up the socks by size, color, and life purpose when—

SHE SAT ON HIM.

Not aggressively. Not violently. Just… sat. And started bouncing.

Gentle. Rhythmic. Purposeful.

Like she was trying to awaken something ancient inside him.

“Shinsuke~” She moaned it like she was trying to get cast in the spiciest drama Japan's ever banned.

He blinked. Once. Heart rate: up. Stability: on fire.

“Are you… feeling unwell, love?” he asked, as if his voice wasn't one octave higher and vibrating with restraint.

She grinds again.

His hands grip her thighs like prayer beads.

He grunts. Then a tiny whimper slips out—traitorous. He covers it with a cough like he’s trying to convince God he’s still worthy.

His face is red, like a polite tomato having a breakdown.

“Darling, this isn’t sanitary. The clean towels are right there…”

She just smiles sweetly. Innocently. Like she didn’t just weaponize softness and decimate his will to stand.

And then?

She walks off. Like it was just another Tuesday.

Kita remains seated. Hands politely folded behind his back. Eyes blank. Soul ascending.

“…That girl’s gonna give me gray hair.” “And I’ll thank her for every strand.”

MIYA OSAMU

It was a quiet afternoon at Onigiri Miya.

The rice was hot. The kitchen was calm. Osamu was in his element, apron on, hair tied up, wrist flicking like a trained chef-slash-lowkey-dilf—

Until she pounced.

No warning. No hesitation. Just: BOUNCE.

Lap? Occupied. Voice? Breathless.

“Osamuuu~” She moaned it like she was trying to get arrested and liked the idea.

He blinked up at her with a smile that said “ha ha you’re cute” but his BRAIN said:

“YOU WANNA DO THIS RIGHT NOW WHILE I’M HOLDING A RICE SCOOP?!”

“Keep this up and I’m proposing today,” he teased, hand sliding to her waist like it wasn’t lowkey trembling.

She just smirked. Gave one last bounce for dramatic effect. Then stood up.

Winked.

Walked off.

Like she didn’t just shake him to his core and make him rethink his whole life plan in one minute.

Osamu sat there. Alone. Flushed. Emotionally fried like his best tempura.

He put down the rice scoop, stared at the door she disappeared through, and whispered like a man in a Netflix romance mini-series:

“...I’m actually gonna propose. Damn.”

MIYA ATSUMU

Atsumu was reclining like he owned the Earth.

Legs spread, arms up, smug levels critical. Smirking like, “Yeah, baby, you’re lucky I’m free today.”

That was before she sat on him. Hard.

Started grinding and moaning “tsumuuu~ a-ah! fuck..” like it was a performance art piece for chaos and psychological warfare.

His smirk faltered. Just a little. Then—bounce.

“H-hah—okay—okay! Someone’s feelin’ frisky t’day—!” Smug was cracking like drywall in an earthquake.

Another bounce.

He whines.

Then WHIMPERS. LOUDLY. Voice breaks. Accent slips.

“Aw hell, darlin’—wh-what’re ya tryna do t’me?!”

FULL SOUTHERN DESCENT. Kansai accent hitting so raw it sounded like a back-alley confession.

He’s sweating. Whining. Head back like he saw God and got rejected.

Then.

SHE GETS UP. AND WALKS AWAY.

Like she didn’t just spiritually decimate one of Japan’s finest athletes in under 2 minutes.

Atsumu sits there, jaw unhinged. Hands limp at his sides. Soul in orbit.

He blinks slowly. Watches her leave like she’s walking away from the wreckage of his ego’s funeral.

“...Ya can’t just leave me like this,” he mutters to the door. “That was... illegal. You’re illegal.” “I whimpered. I ain't never whimpered in my damn life!”

Silence.

Then he YELLS:

“WAS IT THE ACCENT?! I SWEAR I’LL TONE IT DOWN—JUST COME BACK!!!”

KYOTANI KENTARO

She didn’t ask. Didn’t warn. Just straddled his lap with the calm audacity of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.

He was mid-sentence. Now? He was mid-heart attack.

“H-Hey—wait, what—”

Then she leans in. Close.

Hot breath against his neck. Her lips ghost over his jaw. Slowly. Softly. Like she’s learning the texture of his skin just to haunt him later.

And then—she kisses him.

Not a quick peck. Not playful.

It’s deep. Slow. Spicy as hell. The kind of kiss that clings to his mouth even when it’s over.

His hands shoot up, gripping her waist so hard he thinks he might bruise her, but she just presses in more, bounces slowly in his lap like she’s reading every single one of his reactions.

“Kentaro~ nn- HaH!” she breathes right into his mouth. Bounces again.

He sees god. Then he sees hell. Then he forgets how to see.

“W-what the—what is this?!” His voice is too high, too desperate. He’s already hard. Already clenching her thighs like they’re life rafts.

She just leans in again, brushes his ear with her lips, and whispers filth that fries what’s left of his sanity.

“You’re so easy to break, you know that?”

Kisses him again. He groans into her mouth—loud—almost embarrassingly so. He grabs at her again, this time more forcefully—

And she flicks his hand away.

Stands. Fixes her shirt. Walks away like she just didn’t turn him into a walking hormone cocktail.

Kyotani is left on the couch, sweating, hard, and absolutely stunned. Face flushed, fists clenched, lips swollen, staring at the empty hallway like it personally betrayed him.

“That was love,” he mutters hoarsely. “I hate it here. I love it here.”

He doesn’t move for five full minutes. Still. Quiet. Processing.

Then under his breath:

“...I’m gonna marry her or die trying.”

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

She straddles him on the couch like it’s her throne and he’s just lucky to be her footstool. Hands on his chest. Eyes locked on his.

Then the bounce starts.

Slow. Rhythmic. Intentional. And then—

“haji~” she moans like she’s reading lines in a romance drama with too much budget and not enough shame.

His jaw tightens.

“Oi,” he warns, gripping her hips, “don’t start something you can’t finish.”

He's blushing. Hard. And it only gets worse when she grinds a little too good and too slow—right there.

His hands twitch on her waist. His whole body flinches like someone hit him with a volleyball spike to the soul.

“Seriously—stop playin’ around,” he mumbles, but it sounds more like a plea than a threat. He’s getting warm. Real warm. Real fast.

She just leans forward like she’s gonna kiss him.

Spoiler: she doesn’t. She hovers. Inches from his lips. Bounces again, lips curled in mischief.

He groans. Low. Threatening. Desperate. Hard.

And then?

She gets up.

Just hops off. Fixes her shirt. Leaves. No explanation. No glance back. Just vibes.

Iwaizumi sits there—wide-eyed, wrecked, emotionally tazed.

Staring into the middle distance like a man who saw the future and it was terrifyingly horny.

“...She’s gonna be the death of me,” he mutters to no one.

He stays there. Still blushing. Still adjusting his pants like his life didn’t just flash before his eyes with soft moans and denim friction.

And yet? He smiles.

“...Not a bad way to go, though.”

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

Sakusa Kiyoomi didn’t ask for this.

He was just sitting on the couch, minding his business, sipping tea, probably judging someone silently for existing wrong.

Then she came in. Straddled him like she paid rent on his thighs. Set her hands on his chest like it was hers—which, okay, maybe it was—and gave him a smile that screamed danger.

“Get off,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose. “You didn’t even wash your hands after touching the doorknob—”

Then she started bouncing. Slow. Hypnotic. Criminal. And the worst part? She moaned his name.

“Kiyoomi~” Like she was casting a spell. Like he was the main character in a fanfic. Like she knew what she was doing.

His breath caught. His tea almost fell. His sanity left the group chat.

“Y-you—what is this?!” he choked, voice jumping an octave. He wasn’t ready. His thighs weren’t ready. His pants? Absolutely not ready.

She leaned forward, breath hot against his neck, lips just close enough to not be kissing him.

“You mad?” she whispered.

“No,” he whispered back, voice shaking. “I’m terrified.”

Her hips moved. Again. Slower. Deeper.

He whimpered. Quiet. Shameful. Hidden behind gritted teeth and clenched fists.

But she heard it. She felt it. She thrived.

“Oh my god,” he groaned under his breath, gripping the couch cushion like it personally offended him. “You’re actually evil. You were sent to test me. This is a biohazard.”

Another bounce. Another whimper. This time louder. Desperate.

She kissed under his ear. Not sweet. Not soft. Intentional.

“Stop,” he whispered, clearly not meaning it.

“Make me.”

He groaned. His hands trembled on her thighs, like he didn’t know whether to push her off or pull her closer and die honorably.

“You’re ruining my life,” he hissed, head thrown back.

“And your boxers.”

She grinded one last time, slow enough to melt bone. Then—like a demon in disguise—she got up.

Just stood, fixed her shirt, and walked away.

No eye contact. No goodbye. Not even a damn wipe of his forehead.

Sakusa sat there. Breathing like he just ran a marathon. Harder than a physics exam. Staring into the void like he saw God and God was a woman with killer thighs.

He pulled a throw pillow into his lap and whispered to no one: “…I’m filing a report.”

[schtrambotik]

Dating needy MSBY!Atsumu, Sakusa, Bokuto, and Hinata (separate)

contains: yummy MSBY men being utterly obsessed with you and driving you insane in the best ways. f!reader. NSFW HCs, all 18+ smut under the cut! Atsumu will cry if you ever leave him. Kiyoomi is the man of your dreams and idc what anyone says, when he eats it, he does it nasty style. Bokuto is big and feral, and he loves you, send tweet. Hinata’s dick has you under spells.

wc: 5.5k total

Slutty, very in love!Atsumu who truly just loves when you take care of him all the time, in all ways possible.

He was lucky enough to find himself the nicest girl alive, who didn’t mind how much he wanted to hoard all of her attention. It was his dream come true. 

He loved how much you cared for him, how easy it seemed to be for you to support him in all the ways that were important to him from day one.

The sweet sticky notes you leave out on the counter on the days you’ll know he’ll be home before you, all the meals you make for him without a care for his pickyness, waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to go with him to the gym when he complained in bed to you about feeling unmotivated, boasting to everyone who’d listen about your superstar athlete of a man, going to every game you’re able to make it to and let him go on and on about all the cool things he wanted to recap once you were on the drive back.

Every bit of your relationship was something straight out of his best fantasies.

He’s terrified of the idea of ever losing you. You were perfect. He loved feeling confident in your love for him, and while all the little things you did served well to reassure him, sex had to be one of the easiest, and quickest ways to make him feel secure in his place in your life. 

He was a cocky attention slut at heart, especially for you. If he wanted a reminder that he was still the absolute best in the eyes of his sweet girl, he knew exactly what he needed to do to get it.

He was the type to come back after a long day of training—drained out of his mind and feeling like he wasn’t doing his best for some stupid reason—and treat himself to your boundless affections to get out of his worries.

And what he meant by that was practically mounting you the second he came back home, still sweaty and in his training clothes, having rushed over the moment they were done. 

All he needed to perk himself back up was have you drooling over him, saying things like “Fuck, Tsumu you’re so big.”, “You’re so strong.”, “You fuck me so good, please don’t stop.” While he all but ruined you right there on the entryway floor, because he couldn’t make it past your sweet voice welcoming him back without fishing his dick out of his pants. 

He made the discovery of his little preference a bit before you started living with him.

The two of you had a pretty heavy argument a few days before you were going to officially move in. It was smoothed out shortly after it happened and you had reassured him no longer being upset the next morning. Despite that, there was something about him still so saddened that he made you upset. He felt like such an idiot, almost ruining his own shot at a wonderful life with you. He knew you weren’t angry anymore, and you promised him you’d still be bringing your stuff over next week, but there was still something nagging him deep down and it just wouldn’t stop.

Atsumu truly cared about what you thought of him, and he doesn’t know what he’d do if those thoughts were to ever be negative.

The day after the argument, you found him waiting at your job's reception area when your lunch break started. You were whisked away as soon as he spotted you, and treated to a nice little restaurant close by. 

He spent most of the lunch repeating apologies for the night before that you took more than gladly, chuckling to yourself at how remorseful he was over something that had undoubtedly been a rather small rock in the road. 

“Tsumu, I told you I forgive you. We were both being stupid, there’s no need to apologize anymore.” You reassured him once more, smiling as he took your hand in his across the table.

“I know, I know. I’ll stop it. But couldja swear again ya still love me?” He looked at you with sad puppy dog eyes, and it took everything in you not to laugh.

“I swear to God, I still love you and I’ll never stop.”

“Alright, I’ll calm down now… I’ll calm down some.” 

After a nice hour of cheering you and himself up, Atsumu took you back to work; but not before pulling you to the backseat of his car, begging for your praise while pounding you relentlessly in some lonely spot on the back of your office’s parking lot.

Atsumu knew he could’ve waited until you were back home, but he desperately needed to have absolute acceptance to his apologies; and something he’d never doubt to be truthful was the sounds of your wet pussy swallowing his dick whole, accompanied by the feeling of your beautifully manicured hands clinging to his back. 

He was more talkative then than he had been any other time you had sex with him, which is an insane feat for Atsumu. 

He had you on your back against the plush leather seats, his hands firmly grasping your hips to keep you from squirming away from his deep, oppressive thrusts while he buried his face on your neck.

“M making ya feel good?—don’t run from it, c’mon—No one else could make you feel like this.” He sounded completely wrecked against you, breathy, desperate voice muffled against you, vying for your praise by making you see stars. “No one else can give this perfect pussy what it needs. Ain’t that right, sweet girl?”

He had to bite down on your shoulder to keep himself from moaning loud enough for the entire lot to hear, leg muscles taut and twitching as he felt his high approaching when you started crying out his name, telling him he’s the only one who can fuck you that good.

“Just me. That’s right, baby.” He thrusted in you erratically, arms sliding under you to wrap firmly around your back, arching it just right to pound you at a better angle, dragging his swollen tip against that sweet spot to make you come undone with him. “Tell me ya love me, please ‘m so close—” 

Atsumu had gone back home feeling so giddy and relieved, the most stupid lovesick smile stuck on his face the entire afternoon, and still there when he picked you up from work. You had to bribe him so he’d wait until you made it to your house to throw himself at you again.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Domineering, devoted!Sakusa who had the world’s most patient princess for a partner. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person to date; he had all his problems with people, he was far too blunt—the warmth and tenderness he now treated you with was completely nonexistent when you first met—he was far too focused in his career and often consumed by it, and yet you didn’t seem to care about any of it. 

You treated his filterless honesty as an endearing thing. You admired his dedication and often reassured him of not being bothered by it, as long as he still gave you attention when he was home. You adapted to all his hygienic routines when you moved in with him as if you had been following them your whole life, never judging him for how thorough he was about some things, only chuckling to yourself at certain rules while nodding along. 

You were never upset at how quickly he liked leaving parties and events, you didn’t mind how he reserved most of his affection for behind closed doors, you gladly took the smallest bits of PDA he was okay with providing—like holding your wrist while you walked, sitting close enough your knees touched, or keeping a hand on your lower back whenever he deemed it appropriate—all because you knew when you got back home, you’d get all of him, unfiltered, and obsessed.

He was very appreciative of every compromise you made, everything you sacrificed, everything you agreed to; and he went out of his way to show it, wanting to make sure you’d never wake up one day upset about the life you were having with him. 

Kiyoomi treated you like something worth caring for at all times, the apple of his eye. When he was home, you could completely forget about touching a single kitchen utensil, he would make anything you pleased and would only let you sit on one of the stools and eye him up.

He made an effort to indulge you in every single request, no matter how big or small, just as long as it didn’t threaten your well-being. 

And God forbid you even thought of using your own money for any frivolous purchases your heart desired. He’d let you spend down to his last cent if you so wished; though thankfully for you both, you weren’t keen on bankruptcy.

In general, Kiyoomi was very hands-on when it came to caring for you. In every single way. He enjoyed showing you how truly devoted he was to reciprocating the kindness you graced him with, it was no one’s fault some of his preferred methods for it fell along indecent lines. 

It could have to do with the fact that he often worried his lack of affection in public could ever become a problem for you, so he made sure to be all over you the second you were alone. 

He took giving you all of him behind closed doors very seriously.

It would start as soon as he was back, immediately at ease at the perfectly pristine penthouse, taking off his shoes, his mask, and setting down everything in their respective places before he made his way to wherever you were.

Some days he’d be slower in his approach, when he found you already unwinding from your own responsibilities. 

He’d take your hand, giving it a chaste kiss while pulling you against him, asking you to join him in the shower. He’d start subtle, sweet. Helping you wash your hair, kissing and caressing every inch of your body he could manage to get at while the water remained warm. But before you knew it, soft massages and whispered compliments would end in you stuck between him and the tiled wall, his name leaving your lips like a prayer, while he thoroughly and efficiently showed you how much he loved you.

“Doing so good for me, need you to give me another one before you can take this cock.” Making your knees weak by sucking along your neck, his thumb pressed against your clit while three fingers shove into your gummy walls relentlessly.

And best believe he’d be nowhere near done until you were completely dumb and spent after cumming for the umpteenth time. 

After it all ended, he’d carefully dry you down before carrying you to bed while asking what you wanted for dinner, kissing your forehead in the softest way possible, as if he hadn’t rearranged your guts to the point of madness just two minutes ago.

Other times he’d throw subtlety and patience out the window, on the days where he’d find you in the middle of some work task or house chore you still needed to get through, not in the mood to wait until you were done. 

He enjoyed it a little too much when he caught you like that, too busy drying off dishes to notice the way he eyed you up when he stepped into the kitchen. 

You’d be none the wiser, melting as he pressed a kiss to your temple, arms wrapping around your waist from behind. He’d ask how your day was while peppering the side of your face with more innocent kisses.

“I went to get those new sweet potato treats you said you wanted us to try.”

“You did?” He smiled against your cheek, giving another kiss to it before moving down to your jaw

“Yeah, it took a bit too long to find them. It was a restock day at the store you told me about. There were boxes everywhere with the wrong labels piled on every aisle.”

“You had to be glad I wasn’t there.” He mumbled against your neck, breathing in the soft scent of your body wash still present on your skin. 

His hands slowly made their way to your sweatpants, undoing the strings before sliding his hand down your front. “Keep talking.” 

He chuckled to himself when you started stuttering out your words, already too excited when the only thing he had done so far was drag his finger along your clothed slit. 

“Was just saying it took me a whileee—Kiyoomi!” You squealed in surprise when he yanked down your sweatpants and underwear, a large palm coming to your lower back to make you bend against the counter before you could say anything else.

“I’m listening. It took you a long time because it was such a mess.” He repeated, gaze now stuck between your thighs. He sank down to his knees behind you, nudging you to spread your legs with a simple pat to your inner thigh. “But you still did it, because it was for me. Is that not it?”

“Of course. You—You were so excited hearing about them I wanted to—shit.” You did your best to keep your legs apart when his open palms went up your thighs, all the way until they were on each side of your already willing pussy, one of his thumbs came up to draw tight slow circles on your clit, making you clutch the edge of the countertop, your hole clenching around nothing, all for him to watch.

“You wanted to do something nice for me.” He finished for you, smirking to himself at the soft sounds he was dragging out of you. 

“Ye—Yes!” 

“Like the perfect girl you are. Always making me happy.” His thumb briefly dipped into your entrance, slowly thrusting in once to slick it up before dragging it back down to keep making you squirm with perfectly measured rubs to your twitching clit.

“I try my best.” 

“Do I always make you happy too?” His thumb pressed tighter against you, his other hand trailing up your ass to grope the plush skin, pulling to spread your pussy wider, every bit of wetness dripping out on display for his eyes only.

“Of course, Omi—haah fuck—You make me so happy, baby.”

“Don’t mind if I make sure that’s true, do you? If I make sure you’re happy with me?” Warm breath ghosted over your skin when he leaned closer, waiting for that weak, whimpered agreement to come out of your pretty lips.

“Please do.” 

“Thank you, princess.” 

Next thing heard in the quiet, cold kitchen would be the completely depraved sound of Kiyoomi spitting on your pussy and subsequently the pathetic whimper that tore out of your throat when his tongue dragged a long, slooww swipe along your slit before burying his face in. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Obsessed and freaky, but adorable!Bokuto who just loved being with you too much! He is a true believer that if you love someone you will want to live in their skin. And god knows he would if he could. 

Ever since you first started dating you had grown accustomed to the feel of Bokuto’s heavy, warm, strong body around you. There was never a time the two of you were out together where he didn’t touch you in some way; hands intertwined together, an arm thrown over your shoulders, a hand on your waist, or even his fingers holding to the belt loops of your jeans, anything he could manage to make you feel close to him. 

And as your relationship grew, so did his displays of affection. At some point he stopped caring about where you were or who was around, if he wanted to feel you flush against him, he would make it happen. 

He’d sit you down on his lap while he chatted along with his teammates, be it at your house, theirs, even at bars. If you needed to stand for whatever reason, he’d sit right next to you, hands wrapped around your waist or one of your thighs, with his face resting on your side. 

His touch tended to turn towards slightly inappropriate, but it was an accident more often than not. It was slightly automatic, if you will. If you wore a nicely snug top, he couldn’t help but sneak in a squeeze or two when he saw it, no matter where the two of you were. 

One time you came to pick him up from training because his car was getting fixed and you made the mistake of wearing a dangerously showy neckline; he practically jumped upon seeing you, like every other time, but instead of engulfing you in his usual bear hug, he picked you up by wrapping his arms under your butt so you’d be higher than him, burying his face in your cleavage in the process.

A loud “You look so good, baby! I missed you!” coming out muffled from where his face stationed itself. Too caught up in you to pay attention to the whistles and laughs from his friends.

You had a stern talk with him about PDA after that, one that truly just went in one ear and out the other because his attention was solely on how good you looked that day. He only nodded along with a dumb smile, muttering small apologies while his hands slid up under your shirt, fondling your breasts through your bra while trying his best to actually hear the words coming out of your mouth.

Bokuto never meant to be perverted per se, he was just insufferably oblivious to how the lines between his affections and his horniness seemed to blur together. And when he noticed, he couldn't care less.

He just loved touching you, and you can’t blame him for loving his fiancée oh so much! 

He’d be the clingiest after long days at work. Hours of running drills, practicing spikes, and lifting weights wasn’t necessarily something that made him want to run back home. He loved it all; what he hated was the days where it all mixed with a dozen other things he had to do—new uniform fittings, preps for press before the next game, meetings about the next tournament and what they all needed to focus on, and a quick drink with his teammates before heading out—making him leave early in the morning while you were still asleep, and return far too late (8:15pm) when you must’ve been done with work and everything you had to do ages ago.

He felt so sad when he thought about all the time you spent on your own—you were fine, his suffering was completely made up—all alone, without his hugs, his kisses, his tickles, the sporadic lick to your face you claimed to hate but he was sure you loved. It must be so terrible for you!

Late nights like that he’d find you laying on the couch, legs sprawled, hair messy splayed out on the cushion behind you, slowly flipping through the pages of whatever book you were currently obsessing over, and he’d be unable to help himself. 

Dropping his gym bag on the floor, phone on the coffee table, and throwing himself at you. He smelt like a mix of sweat, his cologne, and whatever drink he quickly dawned before coming back to you. 

“Kotaro, baby.” He’d hum in response, carefully closing your book and putting it aside before smushing his face in your chest, warm hands sliding up your sides from under your thin top. “You’re crushing me.”

“‘M sorry. I missed you though.” He’d make no effort to move at first, keeping his whole body weight on you and only letting up after hearing you say you missed him too. 

Then he perked up, pushing himself up on one of his elbows to keep some weight off you while his other hand came up to your face, brushing away loose strands of hair before kissing your nose “How much did you miss me?” 

“A lot.”

“What’s a lot?” He’d ask, making you chuckle when he tried to bite back a smile, this was a serious matter only. “A lot like you were counting the seconds until my return just now or a lot like you couldn't stop crying the moment you got home and realized I wasn’t back yet?”

“You’re never gonna believe me, Ko. I did both things.”

“I knew it.” 

You laughed when he started attacking you with kisses, having given him the answer he needed. Of course you missed him to the point of tears, just like he missed you!

He covered your face in small quick smooches before finally bringing his lips to yours. One thing about Bokuto is that he didn’t care for giving you short, sweet pecks when he felt clingy like this. He kissed you the way you’d expect of someone like him, completely overpowering, all-consuming, and as passionate as everything else he did. 

The kind of kisses that took your breath away and made you too distracted to notice his hands already working your clothes off, pulling down the straps of your tank top and dragging it down enough to free your tits, rough hands groping shamelessly.

He’d break away only to fully take the top off and pick you up to switch your positions, sitting down and plopping you on his lap, so you'd straddle him.

If you tried to stop him—why would you do such a thing—the only thing you’d get out of him would be his hands firmly digging on your hips, helping you slowly roll them against him, his hardening bulge perfectly pressed against you.

“Baby, give Ko a second, yeah?” The words came out rasped, shooing off any more attempts at slowing him down. “Just need a minute.” He’d murmur before bringing you forward with another mean roll of your hips so your tits were right on his face, slowly licking around one of your perked buds when he leaned in before fully taking your nipple in his mouth. 

His warm tongue sucked eagerly while one of his hands came up to grope your other breast, rolling the neglected peak between his index and thumb. 

His fingers dug on your skin while he slobbered over your tits, moving from one to the other; he switched between sucking on them and leaving hickeys around the soft skin, moving up to your neck every so often to do the same thing. Sharp canines dragged along your pulse point, a silent, exciting threat keeping you pliant above him while his hips bucked up with every new grind of yours, precum already leaking past his underwear.

And don’t even get him started on how it was when he had to travel. Away games when you were too full with work to come with? His own personal hell. And yours too. It’s like he knew just how terrible he was going to be when he came back that he had to make sure you were just as bad as him by then.

He’d call you first thing in the morning, saying he hopes you had the best day ever, telling you how he misses you so much it makes him want to throw himself at the ocean—even though it has only been one night—how he can’t wait to be back home and cuddle with you all weekend long. All tooth rotting cuteness that was only bound to crumble the longer he went on without you. 

That same day you could count on those kind of messages to start flooding in the moment your lunch break started. 

“Hey baby!!!”

“Have you been thinking about me? I’ve been thinking about you”

“Miss that pretty face and your sweet pussy”

“And your tits!”

“Think you could send me a picture? I only have old ones, and I marked you up so pretty yesterday, I wanna see that again”

He holds off on just that at first, keeping you eager for his return over texts, teasing compliments, obscene comments, and maybe one or two pictures of his dick straining in his boxers. 

Then on the last night before he returned, like clockwork, you’d get a call once you were already cozy under the sheets, some time after he texted you goodnight. 

Low, breathy. “Hey, baby. Weren’t sleeping yet, were you?,” coming out from the other line, followed by the unmistakable sound of him stroking himself, hard. Small groans leaving his lips, not caring to pretend. “I miss you so much, angel. You have no idea.”

“Can’t even wait to come back tomorrow, Ko. You’re so needy.” You chuckled lightly, though your words came out strained, he sounded so goddamn good. 

“All for you.” He rasped out, his breathing ragged as he picked up the speed, every word out of his mouth growing progressively nastier the closer he got. “Gonna make you feel so good tomorrow, make you sit on my face and ride it til you’re tapping out.”

“Fuck, I wish I was there with you.”

“Wouldn’t have to use my hand if I was laying there next to you, would be using you instead. And you’d love it, right baby? You love taking this fat cock in that cute little pussy of yours.” . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Irresistible, proud owner of a hypno dick!Hinata who wasn’t needy at all, at least he didn’t think so. 

He met you shortly after coming back from Brazil, and like most of his infatuations, his feelings for you hit him hard and all at once. He made no effort to hide or downplay being interested in you. 

He got your number the day you met without a second thought. He asked you out on a date after only two days of talking, and he was the perfect gentleman all around from the start. 

He never hid how excited he was to be with you, bringing you gorgeous flowers every day he saw you, a different kind each time so that you’d have a unique bouquet at home. He kept an extra umbrella with him on rainy days because you always forgot yours. For the first few dates he asked for permission to kiss before dropping you off at home, blushing every time you said yes. He invited you to all his games, even practice ones, always running to you at the end, sweaty and adrenaline-filled asking you if you saw that really cool block he made near the end, it was very cool, wasn’t it? Do you think he’s cool? Please say yes.

He was sweet in a way that made it impossible for you not to swoon, and that continued on far past the first dates. Once your relationship was more serious, and you moved in together, you could’ve sworn Hinata became ten times more affectionate than he already was, and even more excited to be near you, if that was even possible. 

He was stoked about every step of the process. Unpacking both of your things in the new apartment was to him of equal excitement to being at an amusement park for the first time when you’re young; every time he set one of his things next to yours he’d turn to you to boast about it. “Look! That’s your toothbrush, next to mine. Isn’t that nice?”

Hinata didn’t think he was needy, because he didn’t have to be. He was just so goddamn cute you couldn’t not throw yourself at him. Every stupidly sweet sentence, every content sigh thrown your way, every surprise hug he pulled you into that made you melt against his embrace, everything about him was enough to make you pull him in for delirious kisses that almost always ended in something way beyond just kissing. 

Now, he wasn’t completely unaware. He knew you had the softest spot for him and he did take advantage of it sometimes. He just loved the fact that you only needed the smallest of encouragement to ask him for more, it made him feel wanted, and desired. He loved that. And so, whenever he did feel particularly mushy, and like he wanted every part of you to himself as soon as possible, he would take out all the little tricks that worked perfectly to get you under him. 

Lingering for a little too long in the bathroom while you were showering to ‘look for something’ and talking about how glad he was he got off early that day because he was so spent and couldn’t wait to come back and see your pretty smile, how much he really wanted to kiss you, until you'd break and ask him to join you, his clothes already discarded long before you even made the offer.

Bringing you to join him on the couch when you came back from work on his days off, helping you rid of your shoes and tenderly pulling your feet to his lap, massaging them while letting you know he already ordered your favorite food, and had a nice movie picked out for the two of you to watch. He’d slowly massage up your legs until his hands were dragging along your inner thighs with just the right amount of pressure, bottom lip stuck between his teeth in restraint while he patiently waited for you to plead him to go higher.

Or his favorite, whenever you were out on the town with him. He was always happy whenever you agreed to come out with him and his friend group, the sight of you, his absolute treasure, mingling with those he loved most like you had known them all your life. It brought a sweet, fluttery ache to his heart that made him need to have you, all of you, quickly, please. 

So he’d give you that look that never failed to butter you up, the world’s most lovesick ‘I can’t believe it’s you who hangs the stars in the sky’ kind of look.

“Stop that.” You warned him, yet still pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Already knowing all too well where this was headed.

“Stop what?” He wrapped an arm around your waist, brought you to his side to kiss you back, a small innocent peck on your lips. 

“We can’t leave yet, it’s still early.”

“I didn’t say we had to leave, we could just sneak away. For a moment?” He pouted, a plea that only lasted another second before he laughed at the glare you threw his way. “I’ll be good, I just want to feel you. I love you so much.”

You rolled your eyes, pursing your lips together to keep from smiling at how terribly sweet he sounded. “Just for a moment, and we’re not fucking.”

Whoever Hinata swore on when he agreed to that last part must be confused as to why they’re suddenly coughing, because that promise only lasted about five minutes. 

One, two, three kisses and you were already on top of him on the passenger seat of your car, panties thrown somewhere in the backseat and two of his fingers knuckle deep in your pussy while you made quick work of undoing his jeans.

“Can I be inside you now, pretty?” 

You weakly shook your head, hand wrapping around him, using the precum dripping down his tip to stroke him out in that teasingly delicious way he loved. “We have—oh just like that—have to be quick, baby. They’re waiting.”

“We’ll be back after I feel you make a mess on my dick. How’s that?”

You wanted to smack the eager grin on his face, he knew as much. But he also knew you were too down bad for him to refuse. 

The second you nodded he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the loss of contact. 

He brought them down to his dick, smearing your wetness around it while you positioned yourself above the tip. He could only thank God the parking lot was deserted because the sounds that came out of both of you the moment you sank down on him were straight up pornographic. 

Anyone who had the displeasure of hearing the two of you would’ve thought you’re fucking for the very first time after not seeing each other for years. But that's just how Shoyo was when it came to you, a completely desperate, yearning freak. 

“So fucking good, you’re so perfect for me, pretty.” His hands went under your skirt, fingers digging on your ass to hold you in place while thrusting up into you like a fleshlight, the squelching sound of you creaming around him while you cried out his name being like music to his ears, the sweetest melody in the world.

He leaned up to capture your lips in his, sweet incoherent nothings muffled through the kiss. “All mine, all for me.” It was all completely uncoordinated yet oh so good the way he was hitting it just right, pussydrunk out of his mind and still so in tune with giving you exactly what you needed. “My perfect girl, love you so much, so so much.”

[aryaryxoxo]

These Haikyuu men have been secretly watching the cute sports reporter from the sidelines for a while now, always catching glimpses of her interviewing players after matches. So when he finally gets to be the one she’s interviewing? Oh, he's blushing hard.

He’s trying his absolute best to answer all her questions seriously—maintaining eye contact, throwing in a few jokes to impress her—when suddenly, bam! His rascal of a teammate dumps an entire gallon of cold water on him as part of their post-game tradition… but it splashes all over her too.

He immediately turns to his teammate like, “Are you serious right now?” before scolding them on the spot. “She’s working! What is wrong with you?” he snaps, before turning to her, flustered and apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry about that. Get her a towel. Now.”

When they bring it over, these Haikyuu men takes it himself and gently starts wiping the water from her face, mumbling something like, “You okay?” while giving her a small, nervous smile. He doesn’t even realize they’re still being filmed.

Trying to save face, he grins and says, “How about this—let me make it up to you. You can write an entire article about me… over coffee?”

Later that night, he’s sprawled out on his bed, still in his team hoodie, phone in one hand and a lazy grin on his face as he watches the viral clip of himself smiling like an idiot while gently dabbing her face with a towel for the tenth time. The comment section is wild—some are teasing, some are shipping, and some are dead serious about wanting to see them together.

Then his phone pings.

You: how about tomorrow lunch time? 😊

Hinata, Atsumu, Bokuto, Sugawara, Kageyama, Oikawa, Tsukishima (i have favoritism), Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Daichi, Tendou, Kenma, Ushijima (i have favoritism part 2), any other hq men you love

[oxytxn]

RIDING HIS THIGH WHILE HE’S WEARING HIS GREY SWEATPANTS. . .

you really didn’t mean to, but with the way you were straddling one of his legs as you cuddled, you couldn’t help yourself to his meaty thigh.

he’s just leaned back on the couch, watching you, analyzing the roll of your hips—being under his piercing gaze made you feel even needier, and he knows it. his eyes notice how yours haze over just slightly as you briefly hit a sweet spot, eliciting such a sweet sound. now that brings a little smile to his face.

and you know you’re making a mess on his pant leg, bare cunt dragging along the fabric as you pant out his name in little whimpers. neither of you actually care that he’ll have to wash these after because you also catch the wet spot at the tip of his cockbulge, imagining a little pearl of arousal leaking out of the red, sensitive tip you adore.

you huff out in frustration, practically edging yourself at this point. opening your eyes, your gaze meets his as he stares with a ghost of a smirk. “you okay? need something?”

what a shithead—he’s really wanting you to say it out loud. he does this every damn time.

“please,” you murmur in an attempt to save face.

“please what? use your words, baby.”

you huff out once again, but it comes out as more of a whine. while your pride is on the line, so is your orgasm.

so you slow down, staying at a gentle rhythm as you whisper out, “please help me cum.”

“help you with what? a little louder.”

you were about to explode from his teasing—damn him. “please help me cum,” you repeat louder, maintaining eye contact.

his hands snake up your thighs to your hips as he purrs a soft, “good girl. was that so hard?”

guiding your movements, he flexes his thigh to perfectly bump against your clit. a little cry escapes you as your hips move faster, chasing your delicious high.

“pleasepleaseplease—” you’re panting against him, cresting that hill where you’re gushing all over his sweats. he pulls you into a hungry kiss as he groans into your mouth, releasing in his pants and helping you both ride out your highs.

“there we go, baby.”

later that night, you notice four pairs of grey sweatpants added to your shared amazon cart.

guess he enjoyed it too. ᢉ𐭩

hq ⟡ TSUKISHIMA KEI, oikawa tooru, KYOUTANI KENTARO, kenma kozume, YAKU MORISUKE, bokuto koutaro, MIYA ATSUMU, kuroo tetsurou, UKAI KEISHIN, iwaizumi hajime, your fave.

jjk ⟡ GETO SUGURU, nanami kento, GOJO SATORU, choso kamo, FUSHIGURO TOJI, your fave.

aot ⟡ JEAN KIRSTEIN, levi ackerman, PORCO GALLIARD, zeke jaeger, your fave.

masterlist.

been thinking about this a lot recently…🕊️ inspired by a convo @scaredy-katts and i had a while back

mdni. do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©oxytxn 2025.

[realcube]

— KEEP IT ON

🕸 doing it in your halloween costume

ft;; kenma, tsukishima , bokuto & atsumu

tws + tags;; oral (f! receiving), slight exhibitionism // vaginal, degradation, mentions of illness // cockwarming, intoxicated sex, impact play // fingering, slight anal

KENMA 🕸 x scary black cat

one negative aspect of having a professional gamer boyfriend is that on the rare occasion you want to go out to celebrate a fun holiday, he's busy streaming and can't come with you.

most of the time when he doesn't want to go out with you, after enough pleading and begging and doe-eyes, because he's whipped he'll eventually come around and the two of you actually end up having a nice time together. however, on this occasion he is shockingly firm in his notion that he cannot go out to celebrate with you, because he's already scheduled a halloween livestream for his fans.

which is annoying, but you don't worry about it too much because you know there is one tactic that you have yet to try that will undoubtably work and cause him to cancel his stream to spend time with you instead. and that is:

ragebait.

for your 'halloween costume', you didn't even need to buy anything new for it because all it consisted of was a black bra, a black miniskirt (which you cut even shorter), a cat ears headband and a clip-on cat tail, all of which you already own (unsurprisingly). then, you would draw whiskers on your face with eyeliner.

of course, this wasn't your true costume. but merely a decoy costume that you would use to elicit a reaction out of him. your plan was that, once kenma saw that you were going out in something so egregiously revealing, his protective boyfried instincts would kick in and he would insist that he comes with you to the party.

or at least, that's what you thought would happen.

in reality, when you appearing in the doorway on his bedroom, twirling and making all sorts of fuss over your 'amazing' costume, all kenma did was spare you the briefest glance and mutter, "you look nice. have fun tonight."

the doorway wasn't in view of his camera, which is why you felt comfortable doing another twirl, and trying to show off your outfit (or lack thereof) again. "i don't think you got a proper look at it the first time, kenma." you urge. surely if he wasn't freaking out by now, it was probably because he didn't see it right. "c'mon, take another look."

he sighs, and mutes his mic. this time he turns fully towards you, giving you his undivided attention and getting an unobstructed view of your skimpy costume. though, he still didn't seem bothered.

"you're a black cat, that's cute. i like your tail." he points at it, and you can't help but swoosh it around a little. "i hope you have fun tonight. sorry that i couldn't come with you." just as he is about to turn back to his stream, you interject,

"can you at least kiss me goodbye?"

he smiles warmly at you, and nods. "yeah. there's a break coming up in five minutes. i'll meet you at the door."

"okay." you murmur, defeatedly leaving the room and kicking the air as you do so. you can't believe your masterplan didn't work, and that, more importantly, he doesn't seem disturbed at all that you're going out in virtually nothing.

well, you're obviously not really going out in this; even on halloween, you'd just arrested for public indecency. but you can't let him think you were bluffing (even though you were), so you'll probably just sit in your car for a while and watch something on your phone, maybe go to a drive-thru and get a bite to eat. something like that.

dejectedly, you pad to the foyer and put your heels on. and as promised, a couple minutes later kenma joins you. he strolls up to you and pulls you in for long hug, which you reciprocate, even allowing yourself to melt into his embrace slightly. which you immediately regret when you move to give him a kiss and he jerks away.

"huh?" you splutter, staring at him with wide-eyes; a crazed expression like someone who had just been shot. "my goodbye kiss?"

kenma snickers, and nods again. "here." he says. and you're not quite sure what he means, until he gets on his knees in front of you and wraps his hands around your thighs, shuffling closer towards you so his head was right between your legs.

your thighs instinctually press shut and a flustered heat rises to your cheeks in response to his unexpected actions, "what about your stream?"

"paused it. i told them that i needed to give my girlfriend a kiss goodbye. so, let me give you a kiss." his thumbs dig into your thighs, and despite your initial confusion, you soon allow him to part your legs and duck under your skirt, where he's met with a peculiar sight.

"no panties?" he mutters while pressing kisses on the inside of your thigh. "that's risky considering how short your skirt is."

"i just— i forgot to put them on." you splutter, as if that was any more belieable than you choosing not to wear them for aesthetic purposes. regardless, that only makes it easier for his tongue to make contact with your sweet folds.

he licks and sucks at your cunt, lapping at it like a parched man until your entire pussy is glistening with a mix of his saliva and your juices. he pays special attention to your clit, nipping at it to tease you and and fiercely sucking it between his teeth, causing your knees to tremble at his attack on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

he spits on your hole to moisten it , yet it feels so affectionate. he does this repeatedly to prep you, and uses two fingers to push the it inside you, to ensure it fully lubricates you. yet, there's still strings of arousal and spit hanging from your hang and spilling down your thighs.

"ready, kitty?" he asks hoarsely, with his mouth still connected to your cunt, so you feel when his lips creep into a smirk at the silly nickname. "want it?"

"yeah.." you whine, feebly grasping at the edge of your skirt for an inch of solace.

"how bad? tell me how bad you want it, princess." he says, pulling his head back, out from under your skirt so he can glare at you. however, this doesn't work out in his favour, because when he sees you're glossy lip trembling and your angelic eyes gazing down at him innocently, he immediately folds.

"you're lucky you look cute as a cat. i can't make you beg for it when look so sweet." he huffs, diving back under your skirt, only so he can lick one final stripe across your cunt before plunging his tongue into your sopping hole.

you recoil at this forceful action, but he holds you firmly in place. "stay still." he commands, speaking more into your pussy than he was to you. "let me take care of you." your pussy drips around his tongue while he loses himself inside you. thrusting in and out at an erratic pace and curling in all different directions in deperate attempt to locate your gspot.

his hands caress the back of your thighs while his tongue slams into your cunt over and over, with such force that it almost splashes back in his face. "so tight.." he groans, the vibrations tickling your clit just right and ripping a shriek-like moan from you that echoed through the whole foyer. his tongue wormed around your insides, while his lips still worked on slurped up your excess and stimulating the rest of your pussy. "mpph, fuck, you taste like heaven, kitten."

you're unsure how long this went on for, but by the end of it, the coil in your stomach had been wound so tight by kenma's unabating and expert tongue abusing your gspot and his lips destroying your clit, that you were sent into the most mind-numbingly intense orgasm. your walls were spasming and your moans were so loud that they wrapped back around and bacame largely silent. and you're knees buckled under you, and kenma had to grip your waist and slowly lower you down.

"shit.." you curse, laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling as you struggle to catch your breath.

"hope you're satisfied with your goodbye kiss." kenma smirks, finally getting up from knees and heading back to his room where he was streaming, but not before giving you a peck on the cheek first.

you didn't even have the energy to leave the house after that. which upon greater consideration, you realise may have been apart of kenma's plan all along. hmph.

TSUKISHIMA 🕸 x pirate

wrapped up in your fitted corset and pirate costume, you're stood in front of the mirror, adding the finishing touches to your makeup before you're ready to head out.

just as you're adding a final dash of blood to the fake wound on your face, you can feel his unwell presense as he enters your room, without even looking away from the mirror. partially due to the frequent sniffling. although, before he fully comes in, he lingers in the doorway for a moment, crossing his arms as he gives your costume a once-over. "a pirate?" he scoffs.

"yup." you hum, refusing to pay him any attention and staying concentrated on completing your sfx makeup.

and despite noticing your deliberate attempts at ignoring him, he contiues, "not historically accurate at all." he scowls, eyes glued to your body. but that was perhaps in part due to the fact you were wearing a flowy white blouse that barely covered your ass, ripped tights and a cinched corset. of course you had other accessories too like a prop sword and a hat, but the bodice alone was enough to elicit complaints from your boyfriend. "why would swashbucklers wear corsets and heeled boots?"

very opinionated for a man burdened with the flu. you could tell he was just trying to get a reaction out of you, and your suspicion is only confirmed when you turn around and see a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. hence, you sigh and collect your stuff, preparing to leave for the party, "thanks, tsukki. i'll keep that in mind for next years costume." that amount of sarcasm was enough to amuse even tsukishima.

"hey. i just don't want you to go to that party, and everyone starts making fun of you for having a historically inaccurate costume." he places his hand on the side of your head and lovingly strokes your head with his thumb, "you don't deserve that." there was a shocking amount of sincerity in his voice for a man who was clearly joking. but for some reason this display of pity had you inwardly swooning and melting into his stupid, illness-infected hand.

"thank you, kei. but i think i'm willing to take that risk."

"suit yourself." he shrugs, shifting his hand behind your head and pushing it so he can pull you in for a hug. as you wrap your arms around each other, he says in a nasal tone, "have a good time tonight. sorry i can't come with you." then, you feel his spare hand snake down your back, until it's resting on the curve of your thigh, at the very edge of your blouse. "i'll be here when you get home."

at first you think it's sweet that you're usually standoffish boyfriend is being so affectionate. that is, until you think the hug is over but he pulls you in again. okay, maybe he just wants it extra long because you're going to be out all night, that's fair. but then after an additional thirty seconds, you try to pull away again and he just squeezes you even tighter.

that's when you realise. "you don't want me to go, do you?"

"why is your dress so short?"

"oh my god, kei!" you groan, yanking yourself away from his crossing your arms over your chest, affronted. "stop being so overbearing. you're not my parent!"

"fine. go to your stupid party." he grumbles, looking away awkwardly, "don't yell at me. i'm sick, remember?" he fake coughs twice.

such a drama queen, how do you put up with him? you ask yourself. "okay. thanks. goodbye, tsukishima." you sigh, collecting your stuff and heading towards the door. until, he interrupts one last time by calling out after you:

"wait. at least let me give you something before you go."

famous last words. now, he had you bend over the bed, with your dress hiked up and your panties pushed to side while you rammed into you from behind. his fat cock splitting your cunt open repeatedly, while your face was half-pressed into the sheets, surely smudging your makeup in the process, but were far too lost to care.

you're hole quivered around his length and you're knuckles were painted white with how hard you gripped the duvet beneath you. it was frightening how much stamina he had for someone who has been virtually bed-ridden with illness all day. it's like he managed to shake all the unwellness off himself in an instant, and is now back to drilling into you at his typical furious pace.

your walls squelched at each thrust, and your juices leaked out of your pussy, which he used as lubricant as he rubs his fingers over your clit. "oh, fuck, kei.." you groan, legs tensing as the wet friction causes electric jolts through your core. and despite this stimulation, his fierce drilling into your tight cunt never ceased for even a moment. he's adamant on keeping you stuffed. "mmph— ts— tsukki!"

"can't dress like slut and expect me not to fuck you like one." he grits, keeping an iron grip on your waist while letting his other hand freely roam your back. it would wander up and give you teasing tugs on your hair, forcing you to look up at the wall in front of you. then it would retreat downwards to grab and squeeze at fistfuls of your ass, like he owns it. "you think just cos i'm sick that i'm not gonna fill you up? please." his point is underscored by the sniff he does halfway through, due to his blocked nose.

due to his hips constantly slamming down against yours and his dick fighting against the restrictions of your tight hole, it wasn't long before he lost himself in your heat and finished inside you — no rubber so his seed was left to conjest your walls and paint your cervix.

audibly breathless, he pulls out, and you can feel the mix of liquids he left behind him drool out of your cunt. though he hastily sorts that out by fixing your panties and adjusting the fabric so it's snug against your pussy again. pleased with his work, he gives you a quick pat before collapsing down next you on the bed. you've never seen him so worn out after sex before, but you figure it's expected considering he's poorly today.

"have fun on your night out, sweetie." he snickers. if it wasn't made clear he was being condescending by your shivering, fucked-out figure on the bed, that is in no state to be going out clubbing. then, the fact he called you 'sweetie' is a dead giveaway — he typically only calls you petnames when he's being patronising.

"and sorry for messing up your makeup. but considering your costume, you'll be glad i gave you something to keep warm."

BOKUTO 🕸 x fluffy bunny

his strong arms snake around your waist as soon as you pause for one second, just to touch up your mascara in the mirror. you try to pay him little attention, as you're already in a rush, but that becomes difficult when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and you can feel him grin against you.

"aren't you just the cutest little bunny ever?" he laughs, hugging you from behind, so close that you can feel his muscled chest against your back and it's a little distracting. he continues to press open-mouthed kisses onto your neck, and for a moment you wonder whether he's already drunk from the pregame, or if he's being his normal lovey-dovey sickeningly-sweet self.

"thank you, kou. but we need to hurry." after placing your mascara back in your purse, you march straight towards the door. however, bokuto doesn't let go of your waist for some reason and ends up stumbling along behind you. "we're already running late."

bokuto finally drops the hug, but only so he can stand up and admire the sight of your ass almost peeking out of your short dress while you're bent over, scrambling to put your shoes on. he's especially excited by your fuzzy little pompom tail that was sewn onto the dress, just under the small of your back. in fact, you're whole outfit was just so cute, he could hardly bear it. those floppy rabbit ears, the sparkly makeup that makes your face glow, even the fluffy bracelets you wore.

naturally, he couldn't help but give in to his lesser urges, and reach forward to squeeze your pompom tail. it was only sewn onto your clothes so you didn't even notice, until his other hand followed suit and grabbed a fistful of your ass.

which automatically caused you perk up and gasp, "kou!" you stand up straight and instantly whip around to face him, only to be met with a his wobbly smile and prominent redish flush. yeah, he's definitely tipsy.

"c'mon! look at that tail! it's too adorable not to grab." he chuckles, making the motion with one hand, while the other trails down your leg, kneeding your thigh. "such a sweet bunny. can't believe you're all mine."

his head flops onto your shoulder but you're quick to push it upright again, so he can look you in the eyes as you declare, "thanks. but there's no time. we're already super late, bokuto, so we need to hurry. do you understand me?"

"ughh." he tosses his head back dramatically and groans, "why do you we need to go? why can't we stay home and so i can fuck my little bunny's brains out all night?" he pouts, glossy-eyed and seeming genuinely disheartened.

"do you not want to go?"

"no." he states firmly, shaking his head, and almost losing balance in the process. "i want to spend tonight with you, baby. hang and fuck like rabbits— hah, get it?"

"i do." you grimace, quickly pivoting, "but you promised kuroo that you would go to his costume dinner and you said you've been looking forward to th—"

"fuck kuroo and his costume dinner!" he yells definitively, before pulling you in my the cheeks for a dramatic yet sloppy kiss. at first you're astounded and try to say something, but then you realise there's no point in arguing with him since he seems to have made up his mind. all you can do now is enjoy your night.

your lips crash against each other, and you can feel his erection as he flagrantly grinds it against your thigh. your stomach flipped at the sensation and the reminder of just how big he was; your panties slickened in preparation to take him.

you eagerly hike up your dress and try to further close the distance between you and bokuto, but you drunkenly forgot that you were in middle of putting your heels on, so you lose balance and stumble forward in his arms. however, he ends up faling backward as a result, which you landing on top of him. thankfully he braced himself so neither of you were hurt. now you were strandling his thigh, while he's laid on his back.

after a couple of moments frantic 'you okay?'s back and forth, followed by some hearty laughter, he pulls you down to resume kissing passionately. his large hands roam your body, possessively rubbing every dip and curve, and further hiking up your skirt to reveal your dampened panties.

"shit, you're so perfect, baby." he moans, but with such an anguished undertone, it almosts sounds like he's in pain. "i need you so fucking bad. my sweet girl." while one hand tenderly cups your face, the other reaches down to free his cock, which he haphazardly manoeuvres it until the tip is rubbing against your clothed cunt.

you whine into his mouth, then clumsily tug your panites aside, relishing in how his shaft drags along your wet cunt. the friction alone drives you insane, and you let out a deep sigh of relief once he finally slips himself inside your hole and you get that lewd stretch you've been waiting for.

your knees are planted on the ground on either side of him, yet you're far too involved in the heated make-out session to bother ride him. even when you briefly tried, the alcohol immediately started to hit, making it virtually impossible to stay coordinated without fumbling or getting dizzy. thus, while you kissed, bokuto planted both hands on your ass and utilised this grip to slowly drag you up and down on his cock.

emphasis on slowly. inch by fucking inch, it drove you crazy. you'd never gone this slow with him before, usually he pounds into you like a madman but not he was letting you feel him and fully experience the friction of his dick against your walls. giving you time to get familiar with every last vein and curve.

"you comfortable, bunny?" he holds your head with both his arms, hugging you to his chest in a comforting manner, as you struggle and whine while taking his whole length. "cos i think we're going to be here all night."

ATSUMU 🕸 x cheerleader

"are you ready to g—"

atsumu barges into your room, and notices you stood in front of the mirror, fixing up your hair. you even turn to flash him a smile, yet he still looks utterly dumbfounded. then, he quickly bows his head and retreats, muttering, "sorry, i thought you were done changing."

"wait!" you call out after him, and he freezes in his tracks. confused, you clarify, "what are you talking about? i'm already dressed. plus, even if i was in the middle of changing, when has that ever stopped you in the past?"

you giggle, and you expect him to laugh at your joke too, but instead he just turns to you, wearing the most horrified expression you've ever seen. "your dressed?"

"yes."

he motions to what you're wearing. a top that was so cropped it resembled a bra, with the word 'cheer!' written across it. and a matching glittery microskirt. atsumu felt light-headed just looking at it. "that's your whole outfit?"

you tut, crossing your arms over your chest and rolling your eyes. "no, of course not."

atsumu huffs the biggest sigh of relief, practically hunching over as he does so. "good, that's what i thought. so what are you missing? a jacket? leggings? the rest of your shirt?" he throws the suggestions at you, but you think it's better if you just show him.

you shuffle over to your bed and pick up the two cheerleading pom-poms you bought, and excitedly shake them around. "these!"

atsumu's face abruptly drops into a frown. "that's it?"

"yup." you nod happily. but there's a beat of silence, during which atsumu's unusual lack of commentary — ironically — tells you everything you need to know. "what? you don't like it?"

he grimaces, opening his mouth to say something before realising that there's probably a better way he could approach this situation. "don't you think you're going to get cold in that?"

"no." you shake your head, and pout. from his demeanour alone you can tell that the problem is, you're hasty to whine, "you just don't like my costume!"

"huh? i didn't say that." he furrows his brows, cautiously edging towards you with an arms outstretched, as though he was trying to offer his scent to a volatile cat. however, in this case, he lets his fingers tap at the exposed skin of your waist, and despite your gloomy attitude, you let out the slightest 'hmph' of approval, which he takes as permission to wrap his arms fully around you.

holding you in his ridiculously warm and loving embrace, he hums, "i love your costume. wish you'd dress like this when you come and watch my matches with the jackals. looking in the audience and seeing you wearing this," he steps back and admires your outfit, squeezing your waist as he does so, "would give me some real motivation."

"the wrong kind of motivation." you tease, nudging his crotch where you can feel his length stiffening against your thigh.

he litters kisses from your collarbone up to your ear, where you can then hear him growl, "n' that's your fault for having your whole ass out." he puntuates his point by delivering a harsh slap on your cheek, and chuckling when you yelp and bounce in his arms at the impact.

there's a momentary lull, as his hand drags from your thigh, up between your legs until the pad of his finger is grazing your labia through your panties. the subtle yet perverted touch is enough to send shockwaves up your spine, and mixes with the arousal in your abdomen that was also caused by his gruff voice in your ear, "it's a shame we didn't meet in high school."

"y—you think?" is all your able to stammer out, as your panties are tugged aside and his fingers shamelessly delve between your damp folds.

"yeah. i would've loved a hot cheerleader dancing for me at all my matches." you can feel his lips pull into a smile as his daring fingerwork causes you to squirm in his arms. his middle finger would prod at your clit before two would slip into your soaked hole. they'd remain relatively stagnant at first, allowing you to adjust to it before they started to move.

"we had a cheerteam but they weren't anything like you." his hot breath burned your neck; he was so near to you, and there was no where you could go to escape. by now his fingers were rapidly pumping into your pussy, while his chest was pressed against yours and his arms are wrapped around you. even his face is slotted into the curve of your neck. you were as close as close could be.

"fuck, if you were there cheering for me though.. in this slutty little outfit." he chuckles at the comment, though his heart races at the mere thought of you as a real cheerleader for him. his eyes drifted shut and he let himself get lost in the fantasy. "god, i don't know what i'd do. probably try to get my hands on you first."

"yeah, yeah, you'd be mine. then i'd bend you over under the bleachers the first chance i got and fuck your lights out." you don't know if he realises it but the longer the rambles on, the rougher he gets with you. his fingers drill repeatedly into your wet hole like a machine, until you're emitting squelching noises with each thrust. he's got such a stern grip on you, his knuckles are white and his nails are virtually digging into your thigh. while his other hand is wrapped around the back of you, with his index and middle finger feverishly abusing your pussy while his thumb presses against your asshole, just to keep you in place.

"shit, you don't know that you're stupid costume is doing to me.." his breath his heavy, and so is yours. but in your case, it's due to the fact that his fingers are curled in such a way that he's repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, and white spots are beginning to cloud your vision as you eventually submit to your orgasm. a climax that leaves you a whiny, shivering mess in your man's arms.

"tsu—atsumu!" you cry out, being partially muffled by his chest. your hole feebly flutters around his unrelenting digits, and he shifts his spare hand up to cradle the back of your head. he kisses your earlobe and whispers, "that's it, baby. ride it out. c'mon."

once the molten grit in your stomach dies down, atsumu slides his finger out of you and you're able to catch your breath. although the orgasmic lust still lingered in your mind, it was usurped by the remaining desire to go out and party on halloween, so you find the strength to utter groggily to him, "aren't we going to go out?"

atsumu laughs and affectionately tucks a strand of your costume-wig hair behind your ear. while making eye-contact, he states bluntly, "no."

"why not?" you immediately whine in protest.

in a shockingly gentle manner, he explains, "honey, you can go out half-naked any other day of the year. but this is the only night i can fuck a cheerleader under the bleachers."

before you're able to even question what he means, he rummages around in the pocket of his jacket and pulls out his car keys. flashing you a smile, he offers you his jacket, and then his hand, "hm?"

[nyctoph1lia]

thinking about his post-match frustration ( 18+ )

he didn’t really mean to take it out on you! through the whole car ride home, he had a deathly tight grip on the steering wheel, his veins looking like they were going to pop if his grip tightened anymore. you didn’t dare to open your mouth or speak to him the whole way, just avoiding his figure by looking out the window. all of a sudden the view was so lovely.. haha..

however, your peace was torn the moment you stepped into your shared apartment. he dropped his things onto the floor without any care and dragged you into the bedroom and pushed you onto the bed. 

currently, you had your head pressed onto the pillow, back arched with a deep inward curve. tears slowly pooled and escaped from your tear ducts, burning up from the constant pain pleasure.

“a-ah, fuckk..” he moaned out in between his breaths. both of his hands were gripped on your hips so tightly that you were sure that they would leave marks on it. he kept you in place, occasionally slapping your ass, giving it a light squeeze when he felt like it. 

his thrusts kept hitting the same damn spot. he closed his eyes, tilted his head upwards with his pace increasing. you made noises that were borderline-pornographic, surely going to get a complaint from your neighbour— but that was the least of your worries for now. he groaned, feeling you tighten around him.

“you’re so fuckin’ tight— bet you were waiting f’ me to lose that game so you could get a piece of this, stupid slut..” the bed creaked loudly with his thrusts hitting harder and deeper, chasing his own climax. you weren’t holding up well either. you wanted to come so badly. but you knew if you did, he wouldn’t let you rest until the next morning.

“baby please–!” your moans were muffled by the pillows against your face, but it was loud enough for him to hear. your body was trembling with overstimulation, clenching hard on him.

he groaned loudly in response. after another thrust, he swiftly pulled out all the way. you whined at the loss, the emptiness. you weren’t able to say anything fast enough as he flipped you over onto your back but due to the change in distance, he grabbed your legs and dragged you towards his dick. he place both your legs on his shoulders and without warning, he shoved his cock right back into you. 

with the convenient position you were both in, he smashed his lips against yours. you wrap your arms around his neck as his tongue slipped into your mouth. it was only until you were out of breath did he break away. “just a little longer, hold it out f’ me baby.” he breathed out, his warm breath hitting your neck. 

after pushing you with the same cruel pace, he finally reached his climax. spilling into you with the last couple of thrusts, filling you up with his warm release. you came nearly instantly after he did, your nails scratching his back deep enough for him to hiss lightly. 

the both of you spent a few minutes catching your breaths. he had long let go of holding your legs in such a tight position, letting them rest while he laid face flat on your chest boobs. you felt your eyes falling shut, but before you could finally drift away into slumber, his words woke you up with a hint of mischief.

“already tired? i’m sure you could go for a few more rounds right?”

© zzuzzv 2026.

[semiloml]

cw: size kink, pussy drunk! bokuto, unprotected sex, overstimulation, manhandling, reblogs and comments are very appreciated!!<3

“Fuck—‘m sorry, baby, I can’t—I can’t stop—”

Bokuto’s voice was wrecked, his breath hot against your skin as he slammed into you, holding you down like you’d disappear if he let go.

His massive frame caged you in, thick arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you still as he fucked into you with desperate, hungry thrusts.

You were already so fucked out, legs shaking, body limp beneath him, but Bokuto—Bokuto wasn’t done.

“T-too much—‘Koutarou—!”

“Nah,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes wild, blown-out and glassy. “Feels too good, baby. So tight—fuck, I swear you’re getting tighter—”

A deep, broken moan ripped from his throat, his hips shuddering as his fat cock dragged against your sensitive walls, hitting spots so deep they made your toes curl.

“S’too big, ‘Ko—!” You sobbed, your hands gripping his biceps, fingers barely able to wrap around the thick muscle.

“You can take it,” he panted, voice dripping with something dangerously sweet. “Know you can. My good girl—always takes me so well.”

He pulled out almost all the way before snapping his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke, making your back arch off the bed.

“Ohhh, fuck, yeah,” Bokuto whined, his voice breaking as he ground himself deep, rolling his hips like he was trying to mold you to his shape. “Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so good—gonna make me cum so fast—!”

His cock throbbed inside you, his thick veins pressing against your walls, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. You felt so full, stretched to your limit, your stomach bulging just slightly from the sheer size of him.

Bokuto groaned at the sight, pressing his palm to the little bump, feeling himself inside you.

“Shit, look at that,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something almost dangerous. “Splitting you right open, huh? Fuck, baby, you were made for this dick—made for me—”

Your walls fluttered around him, and Bokuto gasped, his grip on your hips bruising.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck—don’t do that, baby, fuck, ‘m gonna cum—”

His pace stuttered, thrusts turning erratic, desperate, his breath ragged as he buried himself as deep as he could go.

“Gonna fill you up, baby,” he moaned, his voice breaking. “Gonna make you so full—fuck, take it—take all of it—”

With a final, wrecked groan, Bokuto spilled inside you, his whole body trembling as his cock twitched, filling you with thick ropes of cum. He shuddered, pressing his face into your neck, still rolling his hips in slow, deep thrusts, pushing it all deeper.

“Shit,” he panted, arms tightening around you. “Still so hard—can’t get enough—”

And with the way he was already rutting back into you, his cock twitching, aching for more—you knew he meant it.

AUTHOR‘S NOTE: BOOMSHAKALAKA THANK YOU ALL FOR THE GREAT SUPPORT