rintaro doesn’t look up from his phone as kaiya bothers him, tugging on his shirt and prodding his arm to try and stir him from his comfort in bed next to you. you snicker and watch fondly at your 10 year old’s attempts to rouse her father, to seemingly no avail.
“dad, i need you to come see,” she whines. “it’s really important-“
“no,” rintaro is quick to answer. “no. no no.”
“why not!” she huffs.
“because-“ he finally spares kaiya a glance, “every time one of you rat children come in here to get me up to kill a spider, or see the moon, or check for monsters, you sneak into my bed and take my spot next to mom. i deserve some mom time too, yanno.”
kaiya groans as she tugs his wrist, “daaaaaad, its serious!”
“what is it?”
she pouts at him, flashing him a lethal set of puppy eyes akin to yours. he sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, “if i entertain this, and you steal my spot, so help me god-“
“i won’t,” she says softly. “please?”
rintaro sighs.
he swings his legs out of bed and ushers kaiya to lead the way, “go on then. let’s go.” he follows her closer to the doorway, and you raise your brows in surprise as she actually brings her dad to the doorway.
only to then cackle when she darts to your bed, trying to get under the covers.
“YOU LITTLE-“
“i want to cuddle with mommmmm!”
“SO DO I!”
kaiya squeals as rintaro grabs her ankle and drags her to the edge of the bed, picking her up into his arms while she flails and screams in protest. you hear him ranting in the hallway over kaiya’s whines and giggles to be put down, “you damn kids, you’re lucky i don’t call uncle shinsuke to straighten your asses out. you wake up your sisters i swear to all the unholy gods-“
you shake your head and turn back to the tv-
only to smile fondly as a familiar face pokes his head from the doorway.
akito is quick to rush into rintaro’s warm spot, smiling in content as you open your arm for him to cuddle into your side. you kiss his head and scratch his scalp, letting him melt against you.
“you know he’s gonna have a conniption,” you hum.
“he should know better than to leave his spot unattended.”
you snort and let him cuddle closer, “my baby boy, what am i gonna do with you?”
“uhm, give me all your attention?”
“you always have my attention-“
“you’re joking.” rintaro stands in the doorway in disbelief, and you hear akito snicker in satisfaction. “you little freak.”
“it’s mom-akito time, back off,” your son says, clinging to you closer.
“you know, there was a time when you liked me the best,” your husband hisses.
“i don’t miss those days,” you titter. rintaro glares playfully.
“those days are gone, father. mom is mom.”
once again, rintaro scrubs his face with his hands, “i’m not dealing with this, i’m sleeping on the couch.” he turns on his heel to stalk down the hallway; you hear akito sigh and stir slightly.
“dad, wait,” he says. rintaro pauses and turns back to his bedroom, blinking unamused at his son. “don’t forget your pillow,” he reminds, tossing the fluffed pillow at his father.
please notice tetsurō before he juggles kenma and fukunaga for attention.
wc: 1.8k
kuroo tetsurō had spent approximately four business days drafting the letter, destroying enough notebook pages to clear out half the amazon rainforest just to ensure his handwriting didn’t look like a chicken had dipped its feet in ink and had a seizure across the page.
the letter was, without a single ounce of exaggeration, a masterclass in classical romance. it was the kind of prose that would make sixteenth-century poets throw their quills into a well and give up. he’d written about the way your laughter sounded like the exact resonant frequency needed to shatter his ribs from the inside out. he’d compared your eyes to the stable nucleus of an atom—the only thing holding his chaotic, electron-cloud of a brain together. it was poetic. it was devastatingly tender. it was enough to make a grown volleyball captain weep into his knee pads.
and, with the tactical precision of a stealth bomber, he had slipped it directly into chapter four of your organic chemistry textbook during study period while you were distracted trying to untangle your wired headphones.
he’d gone home that night, buried his face into his pillow, and kicked his legs like a victorian maiden who had just been perceived by a duke. he fully expected a text by 8:00 pm. a tearful confession by 8:30 pm. perhaps a marriage proposal by next tuesday.
instead, you showed up to school the next morning, aggressively yawning, and used that exact textbook as a makeshift shield against the morning sun while sitting on the brick wall outside the gym.
kuroo watched you from five feet away, his soul slowly evaporating from his body like rubbing alcohol left out in the sun. you didn’t even open the book. you just used the heavy-weight cover to fan yourself when the humidity hit. the actual love of his life was using his bleeding-heart declaration of eternal devotion to circulate lukewarm morning air onto her collarbones.
“you look like you’re tracking a gazelle,” kenma murmured from beside him, eyes glued to a handheld screen. “and not in a cool, predator way. more like a very sad, hungry dog.”
“she didn’t read it,” kuroo whispered, his voice cracking like a dry twig. “kenma. the paper density alone should have changed the gravitational pull of the textbook. how did she not feel the shift in equilibrium?”
“maybe she just hates chemistry.”
“impossible,” kuroo hissed, clutching his chest. “i’m chemistry.”
phase two required a complete lack of subtlety. if you wouldn’t stumble upon his heart by accident, he would simply have to leave breadcrumbs.
the next afternoon, you opened your locker to find a small, neon-pink post-it note stuck directly onto the metal grated vents. written in shaky, black sharpie was a clue that looked less like a romantic hint and more like a ransom note from a criminal who specialized in stem subjects:
‘the elements of life are carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen. but the element of my life is currently trapped on page 142. look closer, or i will literally spontaneously combust on the cafeteria floor.’
you blinked at the sticky note. you reached out, peeled it off, and stared at it for a solid three minutes. kuroo, who was hiding behind the corner of the hallway with his face pressed so hard against the brickwork that his nose was flattened, held his breath. this was it. the catalyst. the moment you would pull out the textbook, flip to page 142, and realize that he was completely, utterly, and devastatingly yours.
instead, you let out a soft snort, muttered, “yaku must have lost a bet to standard level science,” and stuck the pink note onto the front of your binder because you liked the shade of neon.
from behind the wall, kuroo felt his knees give way. he slid down the bricks until he was sitting flat on the linoleum, a hand dramatically draped over his eyes. his heart was performing a full, aggressive drum solo against his sternum, furious at the rejection it hadn’t even technically received yet.
by day three, the desperation had reached a critical mass. kuroo tetsurō was a man possessed by a singular, burning directive: make the prettiest girl in the third-year corridor realize that he wanted to hold her hand until their joints turned to dust. he couldn’t function. he missed three consecutive serves in practice because he kept visualizing the exact layout of page 142 and wondering if he should have used a highlighter.
“if you don’t fix whatever is rotting your brain, i’m going to set your shoes on fire,” yaku warned during evening clean-up, leaning heavily on a broom. “you’ve been staring at that volleyball like it owes you alimony.”
“it’s an intellectual standoff,” kuroo said, his voice hollow as he rolled a ball between his palms. “a battle of wits. she’s testing my resolve, yaku. she’s checking to see if my devotion can withstand the vacuum of her absolute oblivion.”
“she doesn’t know you left a note, does she?” kenma called out from the bench, not looking up.
kuroo threw himself backward onto the polished gym floor, starfish-ing beneath the bright fluorescent lights. “i made it so obvious! i used neon! i referenced atomic structures! what else does she want from me? a billboard? a sky-writer? should i tattoo the chemical equation for dopamine onto my forehead?”
the next morning, he forfeited all remaining scraps of his dignity. if poetry wouldn’t work, and clues wouldn’t work, then raw, unadulterated public exposure would have to suffice.
you walked down the science wing at 7:50 am, holding a half-eaten convenience store bun, only to find a small crowd of second-years hovering around your locker. they were whispering, giggling behind their hands, and pointing at the metal door.
as you approached, the crowd parted like the red sea, revealing the monstrosity kuroo had unleashed upon the school infrastructure.
there, stuck entirely to the center of your locker with roughly four entire rolls of heavy-duty, industrial neon green painter’s tape, was the original, beautiful, cream-colored love letter. it was trapped beneath a lattice of green adhesive so thick it looked like it could withstand a category five hurricane. and slapped right on top of the whole mess was a giant piece of cardboard ripped from an old volleyball equipment box, featuring a frantic, jagged scrawl:
“please for the love of god notice my affection. page 142 was an innervation of my entire soul. i’m begging you to interact with this literature.”
you stood frozen, your bun halfway to your mouth.
from the far end of the hall, leaning against a drinking fountain with his arms crossed in a position he clearly thought looked casual but actually made him look like he was suffering from severe muscle spasms, was kuroo. his signature bedhead seemed even more chaotic than usual, a few strands sticking straight up like frantic antennae. his face was completely flushed, a deep, dark crimson that started at the tips of his ears and pooled all the way down into the collar of his school uniform.
you looked from the neon green monstrosity on your locker, to the heavy-grade paper trapped underneath, and then finally down the hall at him.
the silence stretched. a second-year student cleared their throat nervously.
slowly, you walked over to the locker. instead of tearing the cardboard off, you carefully slipped your fingers under the edge of the painter’s tape, working at the thick adhesive until you managed to pull the cream-colored letter out from its bright green cage. it was a bit crinkled at the borders, but the elegant, sweeping ink was fully intact.
you flipped to the back, your eyes scanning the dense, beautiful paragraphs where he had written about how your presence made his brain short-circuit like a faulty capacitor. you read the lines where he confessed, with terrifying honesty, that he spent his biology lectures drawing the exact curve of your shoulder blades in the margins of his notebook.
your chest did something strange—a sudden, warm domain expansion that felt remarkably like a small firework detonating right behind your ribs. your face grew hot, the heat spreading rapidly across your cheeks as the sheer weight of his ridiculous, beautiful, overwhelming feelings hit you full-force.
you folded the paper carefully, tucked it into your blazer pocket, and began marching down the hallway straight toward him.
kuroo’s eyes widened. the cool, leaning posture evaporated instantly. he straightened up so fast his spine made an audible clicking sound, his hands dropping to his sides like a soldier caught off guard. “uh. hey. so. the tape is entirely bio-degradable, if you were worried about the school property damage—”
you stopped right in front of him, reached out, and grabbed the lapels of his uniform jacket, tugging him downward so he was forced to bend his absurdly tall frame until his face was level with yours.
“you absolute menace,” you breathed, your voice a mix of a breathless laugh and total disbelief. “you could have just told me you liked me during lunch. you didn’t need to sacrifice a perfectly good moving box.”
kuroo stared at you, his eyes auditing your lips and then back up to your eyes, his brain completely liquefying under the proximity. up close, you could see the tiny, frantic flutter of the pulse point in his throat.
“but the prose,” he squeaked out, his voice a full octave higher than normal before he cleared his throat and tried to recover his usual low drawl. “the prose was exquisite. i compared you to a stable isotope. that’s high praise coming from a guy who fails literature.”
“it was incredibly dramatic,” you agreed, your thumbs brushing against the fabric of his blazer. “and it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever read. even if it was buried under three pounds of adhesive.”
kuroo’s expression softened, the frantic, manic energy draining out of him all at once, replaced by something so profoundly tender and vulnerable it made your stomach do a backflip. he reached up, his large, warm hand covering yours where you held his lapels, his thumb gently smoothing over your knuckles.
“so,” he whispered, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his nerves, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “does this mean the experiment was a success? are we experiencing a mutual reaction?”
“we are,” you said, letting go of his jacket only to slide your fingers into his, locking your hand with his large, calloused one. “but you’re still helping me scrape that green tape off my locker before the vice principal sees it.”
kuroo let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed down the corridor, squeezing your hand so tightly it felt like he never intended to let go, his chest swelling with enough joy to lift a house off its foundations.
n: my beloved @ryomenlettuce asked for this, huehuehue.. it’s from my scrapped ideas
18+ MDNI | omegaverse au | ushijima wakatoshi x reader
; alpha!ushijima helps you through your heat but he knows he’s big so he’s trying so hard to be careful :(
cw: whore (me), p in v, knotting, reader’s in heat, no gender/name mentioned, mating press aha, alpha!ushijima, huge size difference, oral f!receiving, slight degradation, praise, RAAWWW, breeding, aftercare
the heavy, sweet scent of your heat had been thick in the bedroom for two days, but tonight it turned into something sharp and frantic. your slick was soaking through the sheets, and every time you shifted, a low, needy whine tore from your throat.
ushijima stood by the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders casting a massive shadow over you. his own scent—deep cedarwood and rain—was flaring, heavy with the protective, dominant edge of an alpha responding to his mate. his pupils were blown wide, tracking the way your body shivered, completely undone by the fever in your blood.
“please,” you gasped, your fingers clawing at the mattress. “wakatoshi, please. i need you inside. now.”
he swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw tight. he wanted nothing more than to rip his clothes off and bury himself in you, but he stayed his hand. ushijima was acutely, painfully aware of his own size. he was built like a wall of solid muscle, and his cock was thick enough to stretch you to your absolute limit. the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you when you were this vulnerable.
“i’m going to help you,” his deep voice rumbled, vibrating right through your chest. “but you have to let me go slow. you’re too tight right now.”
“i don’t care,” you cried out, your hips jerking up in silent plea. “just fuck me.”
“no,” he said softly but firmly, stripping out of his shirt to reveal his massive, scarred chest. he crawled onto the mattress, the bed dipping heavily under his weight. he hovered over you, a mountain of heat and muscle, before pinning your wrists above your head with just one of his massive hands.
with his free hand, he reached down between your thighs. your thighs parted instantly, desperate for the touch. when his thick fingers swiped over your entrance, they came away drenched.
“look how wet you are,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing over your swollen bundle of nerves. you bucked against his hand, a loud sob escaping your lips as the friction hit the spot perfectly. “so much slick. you’re dripping for me, sweetheart.”
he slid his index finger inside you. you gasped, your walls clamping down hard on the intrusion. he grunted, his own alpha instincts roaring at the tight, burning heat of your channel. he slowly, oh so carefully, added a second finger, then a third, stretching you open, stretching you wide until you were panting, your head lolling back against the pillows. he pumped his fingers inside you, intentionally roughing up the sensitive walls, making you soak his hand in your juices until you were thoroughly worked over.
but it wasn’t enough. your heat demanded the real thing. your hips rolled against his hand, begging for the heavy, thick meat you knew was waiting.
ushijima pulled his fingers out with a wet slap. he reached down, unbuckling his pants and freeing himself. his cock sprang free, already fully erect, almost dark red and leaking pre-cum from the tip. it was thick as a brick, veins pulsing along the shaft, and the knot at the base was already starting to swell slightly from the sheer proximity of your pheromones.
he looked down at you, his eyes dark with a mix of primal lust and intense restraint. “open your legs wider for me, sweetheart. i need to see you.”
you complied instantly, pulling your knees back toward your chest, exposing your dripping, twitching hole to him.
he lined the heavy, blunt head of his cock against your opening. the sheer size of him made you whimper with a mix of anticipation and slight fear. he pressed forward just an inch, testing the wet give of your body.
“ah! god, wakatoshi—” you choked out, your eyes flying open. it felt like you were being split open, the thick head of his dick stretching your entrance to its absolute limit.
“i know,” he growled, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest. his arms were shaking from the effort of holding his immense weight back, refusing to just plunge in and breed you. “you’re way smaller than me. breathe through it. let me stretch you out first, hm?”
he pushed a little deeper, the thick shaft forcing its way into your tight, burning heat. he took his time, inch by excruciating inch, giving you time to accommodate to stretch around his massive girth. you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he buried himself halfway into you.
“f—fuck, you’re so tight,” ushijima groaned, a rare, filthy curse leaving his lips. his hips twitched, desperately wanting to slam into you, to plow into you like the animal that he is, but he kept his rhythm agonizingly slow. “tell me if it’s too much. tell me.”
“more,” you sobbed, tilting your pelvis up to take the rest of him. “give me all of it. fuck me, wakatoshi.”
with a low, guttural growl, he gave in to your plea. he bucked his hips forward, burying his enormous cock all the way to the hilt. the impact hit your cervix, a white-hot jolt of pure pleasure jolting through your spine. you let out a wrecked scream, your walls clamping down on him like a vice.
ushijima froze, his eyes going completely wild as your tight, hot interior squeezed him. he let out a ragged gasp, his chest heaving. “god… you’re trying to milk me dry already.”
he began to move. because he was trying to be careful, each stroke was deliberate, heavy, and devastatingly deep. he would pull almost all the way out, letting your entrance almost adjust to the emptiness, before plunging all the way back in with a wet, heavy plap. the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass filled the room, a dirty, rhythmic cadence that matched the heavy scent of sex clogging the air.
“you like how big i am, don’t you? you love getting folded in half like a slut, huh? needy little thing.” he rasped, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper as he leaned down to bite at the skin of your shoulder, marking you without breaking the skin ..yet. “look at how you’re taking me. you’re stretched so wide.”
you couldn’t even answer. you were completely overwhelmed, your mind turning to pure mush under the onslaught of his massive dick hitting your sweet spot over and over. you could feel every vein, the massive stretch of him filling every empty crevice of your body.
as the pace naturally began to quicken, ushijima’s control started to slip. the heat pheromones were driving his brain insane. his strokes became harder, meaner, pounding into you with a raw, primal force. he hooked your legs over his thick shoulders, tilting your hips at a brutal angle that let him get even deeper.
“wakatoshi! i’m gonna—ngh—i’m cumming!” you screamed, your body tightening as the climax washed over you. your walls pulsed violently around him, squeezing his shaft in frantic waves.
that was the breaking point. the intense suction of your orgasm triggered his own. ushijima let out a loud, roaring growl, his hips slamming home one last time as his knot suddenly fired, swelling rapidly inside you.
“ah, shit—hold still for me,” he choked out, his hands gripping your hips so hard they would leave bruises.
the knot ballooned to twice its size, completely locking him inside your twitching, over-stimulated hole. you gasped at the sudden, intense fullness, feeling like you were going to burst. before you could even process the sensation, his dicking began to pulse, and a thick, endless torrent of hot alpha seed blasted deep into your womb. he came in violent, heavy spurts, filling you to the brim until the excess slick and semen started to ooze out around the tight seal of his knot.
ushijima collapsed over you, careful not to crush you with his weight, his face buried in the crook of your neck. he was panting heavily, his massive body still twitching as he held you pinned beneath him, completely knotted and bound together in the aftermath of your heat.
later on. the violent pulsing of his knot slowly began to ease, though he remained locked deeply within you, a heavy, throbbing plug that kept every drop of his thick seed securely trapped inside your womb. ushijima’s breathing was ragged against your neck, his massive chest rising and falling in heavy, exhausting thuds against your own. the manic, predatory edge of his scent began to slowly soften, shifting from the sharp, territorial musk of a mate in rut back into the warm, comforting embrace of rich cedarwood and fresh rain.
he shifted his weight slightly, propping himself up on his forearms so he wasn’t crushing you, though he kept his lower body pressed firmly against yours. his eyes, usually so stoic and piercing, were soft, dark, and heavy with a profound devotion as he looked down at you.
“are you alright?” he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that resonated right through your bones. he reached up with a heavy hand, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had leaked from the corner of your eye during the intensity of your climax. “did i hurt you?”
you shook your head weakly against the pillow, too exhausted and thoroughly spent to speak. a soft, contented hum vibrated in your throat, a direct response to his soothing pheromones.
“good,” he murmured, kissing your forehead tenderly.
with immense care, ushijima began the slow process of pulling out. the knot had deflated enough to allow movement, but he still went agonizingly slow, aware of how sensitive and raw your stretched walls were. he gripped your hips gently, anchoring you as he slid his thick shaft out of your body.
the sudden absence of his heat made you whimper, a cool draft hitting your overly sensitive skin. almost immediately, a warm, creamy mixture of his semen and your slick began to ooze from your open, twitching entrance, dripping onto the ruined sheets.
“shh, i’ve got you,” he coaxed, his tone uncharacteristically tender.
he didn’t leave you to wallow in the mess. even in his own state of post-coital exhaustion, his first instinct was to take care of you. ushijima carefully swung his long legs out of bed, his naked, muscular form moving with a quiet purpose across the dim room. he returned a moment later carrying a basin of warm water and a soft, clean washcloth.
he knelt at the edge of the mattress, gently parting your thighs. you instinctively tensed, your muscles aching, but his large hand came down on your knee, a grounding, reassuring weight.
“just relax for me. let me clean you up, my love.”
he squeezed the excess water from the cloth and began to gently wipe away the sticky fluids coating your inner thighs and the lower curve of your stomach. his touch was incredibly light, a stark contrast to the heavy, bruising grip he’d held on you just minutes prior. he was meticulous, dabbing away the cream-colored mess with slow, deliberate strokes, ensuring he didn’t chaff your sensitive skin.
when he pressed the warm cloth gently against your swollen opening, you let out a soft gasp, your hips hitching.
“i know, it’s sensitive,” he whispered, holding the warm cloth there for a moment to soothe the ache. “you took all of me so well. you were perfect, so, so, perfect.”
once you were clean, he gently carried you to a bean bag, walked over to the bed and tossed the soiled cloth aside and stripped the damp sheets off the bed with a single, efficient tug, tossing them to the floor and pulling the clean, dry comforter up over the mattress. he again carried your spent body carefully and climbed back into bed, pulling your limp, exhausted body tightly against his chest.
he wrapped his massive arms around you, burying his face in your hair, letting his scent wash over you in thick, comforting waves to keep the lingering tremors of your heat at bay. you rested your head against his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart, completely safe and protected in the arms of the love of your life.
n: this took 1hr and 30mins. i have no plans to tell my discord that i’ve uploaded it because i
JUNE 2, 2026, 6:32AM: if you’re the girl dressed like a hot dog that just knocked me on my ass on the side of the road, please know that i am in love with you.
TO SUMMARIZE - miya osamu meets the love of his life on his way to work for about two minutes total, and then spends five weeks trying to find her.
PLEASE BE AWARE that this story contains written parts, longing, alcohol, swearing, lewd jokes, and everyone is out of character. warnings may change as the story progresses
how on earth is sakusa kiyoomi supposed to get the girl when she's got real big romantic expectations!?
you've never been quiet about how romance worked in your head.
sakusa knew it. it was easy, really! what any guy just had to do to secure a place in your heart was be hopelessly devoted to you and worship the ground you walked on!
well, no. maybe not to that level. but what he did know was that, thanks to all of the collection of shojo and josei manga you had not so hidden in your apartment, to all the open tabs on your ipad of romance and historical webtoons, to all the love songs on your playlist and to all the times you gushed to kiyoomi about the latest rom-com movie you watched on netflix, your expectations were up to the fucking sky.
and kiyoomi did not care at all, damn once in a while he would tease you as you eat lunch on the MSBY main gym's bleachers just because you had your sandwich in one hand and a stupid manga volume on another. multitasking! you claim.
and he truly did not give a fuck until he started feeling his heart skip just a bit whenever you were around. or when you casually handed him a bottle of water after doing his reps. or when he heard your laugh when atsumu said something stupid. or when— whatever! the point was, after much deliberation and after hinata literally smacked his head, he came to the conclusion he was utterly whipped for you.
now what?
what did he have to offer that you wouldn't turn down in seconds just like you did with other men?! because he has witnessed it!
"sorry, your job sounds pretty... fake" he recalls you saying to some 'creative director' whose parents were still paying his rent. kiyoomi panicked, wasn't being a volleyball player literally a fake job?! he only had to chase after a ball!
"passiveness sounds pretty unattractive" you announced one time as you examined a cliché bouquet of red roses that some MSBY sponsor sent you. sending flowers was passive to you?! was it better if he had delivered him personally?
hence why, sakusa is now sitting on atsumu's couch, elbows resting on his knees as his head is between his hands at some lame ass hangout that miya, bokuto and shoyo insisted he needed to 'clear his head'
"what about some fancy restaurant! like one with a years long waitlist!" koutarou suggests.
"buddy, if you think a fancy dinner isn't bare minimum then just marry akaashi at this point"
"can we just... focus on what actually matters?!" kiyoomi groans, leaning back in despair "why doesn't anyone know what she'd like for a first date!"
"'kusa, y'literally hissed at us if we stood too close to 'er after practice. how are we supposed to know now y'jerk!" the blonde miya attacks, and kiyoomi hates he's right. maybe he shouldn't have gatekeepen you a lot.
they spend at least twenty minutes more debating about a what grand gesture could the least romantic person in the room pull so you even considered saying yes to a first date to him. even natsu was called by his sunshine-like brother.
"yikes" the teenager said over the phone, mocking the pro volleyball players "if none of the things you've read of the books she likes convinces you then—"
sakusa's eyes widen. "what did you just say?"
natsu then was flabbergasted "hold on a damn second, you haven't read the stuff she likes so you know what she wants?! oh my god! men are such dumbasses!"
of course! what's more trustworthy than the original source of your expectations?!
three weeks later, you had to stop dead in your tracks when you catched a glimpse of kiyoomi, the sakusa kiyoomi, after hours at the gym's bleachers reading one of your favorite shojos like he was reading the bible or some huge paper he needed for his thesis.
and that was not all, he had a fucking notebook next to him.
the volume of the manga he was currently scanning, had dozens of post-its peeking out. you guessed by the variety of them he was color-coding shit you didn't even know was possible. in your case, you just used any sticky notes you'd find in your desk or purse and maybe circle with a pen some phrase you loved and that's all!
this man was on a mission.
"firework festival, fuck off, we're in november and that's until next july!" you heard him complain under his breath, since you quietly approached him from behind.
and when you saw your name written next to the female lead, you couldn't help but freeze and let out a tiny gasp.
kiyoomi wanted to die.
he closed the notebook and manga so quickly you sure now knew why the coach always praised him for his reaction time while on the court. "no!" you squeaked, getting closer, demanding "let me see!"
"the hell are you talking about?! that was nothing!" sakusa's ears were so red as he yelled at you. why, why did god hate him so much?
"no, it was not. that was my name!"
"don't flatter yourself!"
"too late!" you said, lunging forward trying to take his sources from him "is it true? you really have a crush on me!"
against all odds for a germaphobe like him, he pressed his palm against your forehead "crush is a really strong word..."
yet, he was using the softest tone voice you've ever heard. yet he couldn't hold eye contact as you slowly stilled. and seeing how your gaze was equally as earnest as his, he had no other choice to fold. he extended the notebook.
and so you started reading his notes:
"fireworks, do all male leads say 'yeah, so pretty' while she looks at the fireworks but he looks at her? well yn is pretty", "'sports festival' damn, i should've met her in high school", "office romance, standing up to the boss for her. fuck, yn and i don't even have common bosses but the coach, should i bribe the coach", "sick day, take care of hear. yn never gets sick, fuck fuck fuck!!!"
you have never felt your heart ache like this. this guy, the guy who once said twenty seven dresses was the most predictable rom com ever, was making notes on how to... get you?
you?
when you look up at him, mesmerized, you don't exactly know what to say. and you're sure he doesn't either. minutes strecth by and kiyoomi is just waiting for you to end his suffering and tease him but reject him since what kind of man needs to study to do romantic gestures?
— a haikyuu fanfic // where akaashi keiji is your editor.
synopsis: you're stuck with a scene, and akaashi can't help but do his job right as your editor.
wc: 4.4k
cw: perv!reader (SLIGHTLY). p*rn with plot. this honestly reads like the script to a p*rno but WHATEVER ITS THE JOY AND WHIMSY THAT I PUT INTO IT THAT MAKES IT A NOT-P*RNO. NOT PROOFREAD.
nsfw includes: f*ngering. 69. marathon s*x. org*sms [male and female]. overst*mulation. p in v. raw. cre*mpie. multiple p*sitions. akaashi wears glasses like YUMMM. fwb concept sorta??? that's all :p
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"no, seriously. why?" your voice is muffled, face pressed against the hard wood of your dinner table as you groan into it. the wood is cold against your skin, the cold beer bottle stands inches apart from your flat hands, and the fan whirs softly above you. you lift your eyes up at your editor without raising your head. "why did i decide to be a fucking mangaka?! was i out of my mind? i mean the pay is mostly awful, i have to face so much criticism as a woman in this industry and the fans?! oh my god, they would eat me alive if i fuck up the next chapter!"
akaashi keiji just purses his lips, staring at you over the metallic rim of his glasses. he looks like you have drained his lifeforce by half in the last ten minutes you have been talkiny. he sighs, bringing the bottle up to his lips and mumbles against the glass. "hm, done with the theatrics?"
your eyes shift to his full lips, the way they curve as he gulps in the beer you had offered to him as a sign of hospitality. you chase your gaze away from him before unholy thoughts become your unbecoming. it wasn't normal to find your editor hot! in the industry, most of them were old, fat geezers who had outdated ideas for plots. you, however, had been paired with akaashi keiji. on one side, he was the best editor you could have asked for. he was good at his job, efficient and supported your ideas. on the other, you had had too many wet dreams about the dude to ever hold your composure during these meetings. you're always more surprised steam isn't pooling out of your ears just at the eyecontact.
akaashi, however, is unaware of your moral crisis and instead, hums leisurely, "'s okay. maybe you're in a rut. happens."
"probably." you bring a hand to your eyes and rub — both in an effort to stop looking at him and in an effort to relieve yourself of some worry. you sigh, "sorry 'bout the rant. i'll try to get to writing tonight."
sighing again, you sit up straighter and fix your horrendous posture in a moment of self-reflection. "and thanks for giving me an extra week. i'm sure the management is already after your ass."
akaashi keiji simply pushes the rim of his glasses up his nose and swings another gulp of his beer. when he strikes his bottle down on the wooden table, he follows it up with a question. "where are you stuck exactly?"
you blink at him, slow to process his question, "what?"
you furrow your brows at the man in front of you. although a great editor, akaashi keiji rarely did ask you for the details. he was technical — telling you what arc to tighten, which panel to drag out. he usually never bothered redirecting your story. he usually never bothered to know more than that was necessary.
he repeats himself out loud and clear. "where are you stuck in the story? i remember hanako confessed her feelings to toshi in the last volume. what comes next?"
"well..." you chew on your lips, slowing down. "after that, um..." finding words becomes harder and you stretch your arms out to grab your own beer bottle. your lips wobble, eyes falling down to your beer. you were sure akaashi keiji knew what came next. there were more than enough theories floating online about your characters for him to not know. he wasn't dumb, or stupid. he knew they were supposed to fuck, so why the fuck was he making you say it out loud?!
you play with your beer bottle, not really looking at him. "uh... after that they should... obviously like get—"
"intimate?" he asks sharply. you stare at him, taken aback by his straightforward nature of his words before nodding, "i mean, yeah."
you clear your throat, averting your gaze from his face as you confess, "so, as you know, toshi likes her back."
"obviously." akaashi hums as you continue, "and so, he cages hanako against the wall. and then—"
akaashi raises a stiff brow, "kisses her?"
you nod at the rough baritone of his voice. your face is flaming hot, no doubt. you hope he doesn't notice. because god, editing or writing sex scenes isn't as embarrassing as uttering them out loud is. especially to your own little workplace crush.
now, it was an universal truth that akaashi keiji was hot. unbearably so. the roughness of his voice, the sharpness of his narrow eyes, the chiseled muscles that he hid behind his oversized clothes; he was undeniably hot! but you were a professional, so you kept those kinds of thoughts to yourself! you didn't indulge in the fantasies about your editor. well, tried not to. sometimes though, in the middle of the night, as you fucked yourself with one of your many toys, his face came to view. but since you were a professional, you always chose to forget it the next morning.
"hey?" the sound of his voice jerks you back to reality. he waves in your face as you blink back the morally loose fantasies in the back of your head. of course, it's not like akaashi is indulging in debauchery, he's simply doing his job!
akaashi eggs you, still drinking his beer. "then? toshi kisses her and?"
"well, they kiss and toshi's... well, he f-fingers her—" and though you're saying the character's names, what you're really thinking is you and him. you and akaashi. against a wall, with his fingers knuckles deep into your cunt. his lips on your collarbone, your hand in his hair.
"—so, you're having trouble writing intimate scenes?" akaashi asks simply and you're jerked back into reality. "are you a virgin?"
"hUH?!" your eyes widen, lips agape as you stare at him. you stammer, "wh-what?!"
"well, are you?" he swings another gulp casually, not really seeing your reason to fluster. "we're both professionals, i won't judge you. it's just you're so shy about it—"
"ofcourse, i am not! i have had sex before! plenty of it." you explain hastily, "what does that have to do with anything—?!"
he sighs, "no need to get so defensive. it was only ever a question."
you scowl, "it was a weird one."
"well, it's hard to write things you haven't experienced."
"right." you narrow your eyes at him, "well, thanks for your concern but i have had sex. and i'd get working on the draft now. as soon as you leave."
"okay." he shrugs, "in case you need ideas, you can reach out to me."
"oh? yeah?" you laugh, hollow, "because akaashi keiji is a frequent sex-haver?"
the thought of it makes your cheeks grow red and thighs grow closer together. you didn't wanna know the answer. the answer would definitely make your wet dreams worse.
"hm. more or less."
well, you didn't need to know that! now, you're already picturing a naked akaashi atop you. his face is red, breath labored and eyes clenched shut as he sinks his cock into you. you shake your head as the blush grows a shade of berry-red against your cheeks. "yeah, okay. whatever. i'll— i will ask if I need your help. you can go now."
"are you sure?" akaashi leans forward, his fitted tee tightens against his shoulder at the action. "i mean i came all the over here to help. run your ideas by me, i'll filter them out. tell you what works or what doesn't."
by now, your entire face is beet-red, you're sure of it. part of you wonders if akaashi can see that and he's just ruining you for the sake of ruining you. but then... his face is stoic, professional as always. right. akaashi keiji was a professional! he probably wasn't playing mind-games with you. he was a earnest, hardworking editor who just wanted to help! so, you swallow down all inhibitions and nod, "fine. here's a few ideas."
★ idea 01.
"spread your legs wider f'me." akaashi hums, nudging your thighs apart with his knee as you follow what he says. his doughy fingertips circle your clit, massaging the nub slowly as his eyes train against yours, "hm, so what does toshi do next?"
when akaashi offered to help you filter ideas, you didn't think he would opt for a practical session. but now, your pants are off, you're against the wall and he's standing in front of you, meeting your eye head-on as he prepares to finger-fuck you. the rim of his glasses shine under the overhead light, and my, his eyes hold this emotion you can't decipher.
you exhale shakily, confessing the plot, "h-he kisses her neck."
akaashi moves closer, with his other hand he gently tilts your head to the side and brings his lips to the exposed skin. his kiss is chaste, almost too careful.
"bite me." you wince, correcting yourself, "i- i mean, toshi bites her."
akaashi licks your skin gingerly before digging his canines into your skin. you gasp under him, eyes clenching shut at the feeling of his warm fingerpad against you and his teeth sinking into your skin. he stalls, calculating against your skin, "does he leave marks? toshi?"
you swallow, "i- i dunno."
"hm?" akaashi inhales sharply, "i think he should. it'll be hot." and he doesn't wait for your response, instead latching his lips around the indents and sucking hard. you gasp as his fingers speed up against your clit, simulating the nub with gentle strokes. your back arches off of the wall and into his chest. akaashi takes his time, blossoming splatters of purple and blue on your neck. once satisfied, he hums again, "next?"
"h-he sinks a finger in."
akaashi follows your words as if they're holy. one of his digit teases the rim of your hole before he finally sinks it in. you moan at the intrusion, eyes half-lidded and thoughts muddled. akaashi barely pumps his finger in you twice before he's hissing and sinking another. he's barely three pumps in when he stops, "wait, toshi didn't put the second finger in yet, did he? maybe i should—" he threatens to stop but you're already babbling, nodding feverishly, "i-he did. he did. yes."
"ah, good." and akaashi is back at it, curling his fingers upwards to pet your gooey g-spot. your thighs tremble as his fingers rev up their pace. you're losing sanity, blaming it all on his fingers and his eyes. god, his eyes. and they way he's looking at you through his glasses. he keeps fucking you, curling his digits in that rhythmic, fast-paced motion till you feel your lower belly churn itself inwards. you fall forward, gasping, "k-keiji-! 's too much."
a sly grin pulls at akaashi's lips as he regards you, "keiji? is that you speaking or hanako?"
"please." you're babbling over him, moaning out rough syllables and pleads, "j-jus' keep going."
yet again, akaashi is following your direction. he buries his fingers to the hilt, massaging your walls from the inside in a way that has your weak knees wobbling in desperation. your hands come to claw on his shoulders, chest heavy and stomach like an abyss. "fu-fuck! i'm s-so close hnghh-!"
"yeah?" akaashi licks his lips, feeling the clenching throbs of your cunt snug around his two fingers. he hisses, commanding. "just a little more, c'mon. give it t'me."
your eyes roll back to your skull and your body all but falls into his arms as you cum. when akaashi pulls his fingers out of you, they're dribbling with your sex. he raises a brow, "does toshi... do this next?"
and before you can even register it, akaashi is already slipping his fingers into your mouth. he rests it heavy against your tongue and you lap it up, mumbling against his skin, "sh-sure."
when you've licked his fingers clean off, he pulls it out. akaashi eyes the sheen your spit has left on his finger and sighs, "i mean this scene is nice 'n all but i think it's lackluster." you're mind's too hazy to even comprehend what he's talking about, but akaashi is already giving his critique, "after all the tension between hanako and toshi, it makes more sense for something else, something more to happen."
you swallow, meeting his eyes, "i had another idea."
akaashi smiles and his canines catch the light in a predatory manner. "tell me."
★ idea 02.
"i'm not-hnghh... s-sure how exactly this would work but," your mind turns to mush would another swipe of akaashi's tongue against your hot, throbbing clit. you let a lecherous waddle of spit land on the tip of his achy, long dick and watch as it travels down the vein-ridged erection. you pump your hand up and down his shaft, feeling his thighs tense and dick twitch in your soft grip.
you were so wrong. nothing could have prepared you for this. this was so much better than any of those half-lucid, desperate dreams of yours. akaashi was so much better in real life than he was in your dreams.
akaashi brings his thumb to your clit, pinching the nub as he answers back, "the build-up might be difficult if- hah, if you want them jumping straight up a sixty-nine position."
you place kitten licks on his bulbous tip, nodding, "y-yeah, but i can work something out if- god, k-keiji faster..."
he swipes his thumb quicker against your swollen clit, bringing him tongue to your sopping wet cunt with a vibratig hum, "you can work it out if-?"
"if... if..." your thoughts are mushy, eyes watery as you pump his erection faster, "if you like this idea."
"mhm, i like it so far." he prods your velvety walls with his tongue, fucking your hole with the tip of his tongue in a way that has you keening and bucking into his mouth. you take his length in your mouth and god, akaashi is so, so deep inside you. his tip kisses the back of your throat and you gag, with spit drooping past your lips and onto his length. your palm is wet - a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum smeared against his entire length. you suck at the tip, tightening your grip against his cock as you fist the base of his thick cock.
"g-god..." his voice rumbles against your core as he ruts his pelvis upwards into your mouth, fucking his beading tip to the back of your throat. your throat constricts around his length, your eyes widening as the air in your lungs is traded for more inches of his cock.
"s-shit." akaashi is groaning against you, eating your pussy out as he feels each bob of your warm mouth push him towards an impending orgasm. you cum on his mouth, coating his lips and jaw in glittery ropes of your cum. you feel his dick twitch inside, feel his ruts grow in intensity till his warm cum is painting the back of your throat. a little bit of it overflow your lips, dribbling down to his length in a lewd river of sin.
"sh-shit..." you heave gulpfuls of air in as you pull yourself off of his cock. glancing down, you realize you've made a mess of the man. his cockhead is red and still twitching, still beading out pearlscent beads of his cum. his thighs are marked with your spit and his own cum. your hand's too sticky.
when you glance back, you see akaashi's face - reddened and glistening with your essence. his glasses are off, left somewhere in the room to be rediscovered later. he gives you an unholy grin, "i- i like this idea but can i suggest one better?"
and you're nodding along to your editor before you can even register his words, "yes, please."
★ idea 03.
"and then," akaashi's hoarse voice kisses the shell of your lips. his muscled bicep tightens against your warm belly, pulling you back into him. the front of his thighs meets the back of yours, stinging it red and sizzling with each quick, short rut into your cunt. akaashi gyrates his hips, circling his cock to massage your inner walls with such intimacy that you're all but mewling profanities into the hot air, "f—fuuuck! k-keiji?!"
"tsk." akaashi's kissing along the hard map of your jawline, pressing chaste kisses, "then, do you think toshi should fuck hanako like this...?" his words have a carefree lilt to them as he brings on hand to pinch your cute cunt and make you fuck back into him. "or..."
in a second, you're being manhandled. his grubby, broad palms grab you by your waist to turn you around. you're lying flat on your dinner table now, watery eyes blinking up at your editor's face, "keiji—?"
he's impaling you on his length before you can question, already babbling about his next great idea, "how 'bout this? toshi fucks— hah..." his low-lidded eyes close with a hiss as he sinks back deeper into your inviting warmth. "like- like this?"
you're nodding fervently, "yes, yes." looping your arms around his neck, you're forcing your editor closer to you. his lips are mere centimeters away from you, above you so tantalizing that all you can do is pull him closer and closer and closer. your breath falters against his lips, "th-they can kiss. just like this...?"
uncertainty lingers in the air. sure, matters of the flesh, you can understand. sex is a need, a want, something desired by the two of you. but pressing your mouth to your editor's? that's too much, right? that's crossing a boundary—
akaashi leans down until your lips against pressed to his, until you can feel the taste of the same cheap beer on his lips as is on yours. you're kissing him. he's kissing you back. he groans against you, the sound raw and primal and utterly defenseless, "'s sweet. so sweet."
akaashi keiji has forgone his sanity because his burying his length into your walls and calling it home already, he's kissing you back with a fervour that makes you feel like he's no longer giving you options for your next scene but rather, working on primal desire.
you moan into his mouth, "k-keiji... mhmph—shit you're fucking me— nghh so mean."
"haah— mean? oh, you haven't seen mean, doll." you feel a smirk pull against your lips, his hips snapping into yours even faster. so fast that you feel the rickety dinner table creak and sway under you. your nails rake down his back, your eyes rolling back into your skull as he bludgeons your g-spot with his tip. his pre sloshes inside of you, dripping out of you in deposits of creamy rings that linger as sticky residues between your hot, feverish skin and his.
"kei—! fuck, pleasepleaseplease— ri-right there." you're sinking your nails into his skin, arching your back off of the wooden table in an attempt to touch all of his skin against yours. sweat glistens on both of your skins, faces red and kissbitten. akaashi increases his tempo, filling you to the brim and back with his lengthy, achy cock as he strokes to hit that one spot again and again. your legs wrap around him to trap his length inside you, to keep it buried until he's painting it white with his seed.
"aaah—! c-cum inside. please." your eyes water, pout falling into a mean, short scream as akaashi overstimulates you. his body rubs against yours so deliciously, his hardened muscles rubbing your erect, sensitive nipples with each drag of his body forwards. your walls clench in vain, your stomach drops as an orgasm washes over you for the nth time. you feel akaashi not too behind you, already gasping and panting and failing to keep up his rhythm as his sensitive cock twitches inside your molten grip and sinfully allows for spurts of hit hot, thick essence fill you up.
your head is thrown back at the warm feeling at your apex, eyes tugging shut as akaashi lowers his body weight and lays down on you. his muscles stutter against your soft, pliant skin. instantly, you're wrapping your arms around his neck, letting him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. he exhales against your skin, hot and dewy. you both stay just like that — languid, naked and not yet hit with the post-nut clarity. that doesn't last long, though.
immediately, akaashi is lifting his face off of your body, looking at you with eyes as wide as saucers. you meet his gaze with confusion, "uh?"
he's lifting his body weight off of you, oddly and quickly reminded of the way his length is still nestled inside your warm cunt. his gaze averts from you, "uh, so... in my opinion— uh, option one and then option three are good? option two can be saved for later."
you're blinking, suddenly reminded of what had transpired these set of events in the first place. "r-right. yeah. so, um, toshi f-fingers her."
akaashi is pulling out of you, still not holding your gaze, "yup and then they fuck. sounds good."
you're nodding along, sitting up on your table as it whines pathetically at the shift of your weight. you're chewing on your inner cheek, looking at the mess of fluids nestled between the juncture of your thighs so intimately that it dribbles and pools on the wooden surface. you're vaguely aware of the hickeys blossoming your chest and neck. you're so exposed, so vulnerable. instinctively, you wrap an arm around your chest. "so, for toshi and hanako... missionary is better, right?"
"yeah," akaashi's eyes fervently search for his clothes and he's slipping into his pair of jeans as soon as he finds them, "cause then they can kiss."
"yeah, yeah." you're nodding along for the sake of it. "yeah, this sounds good."
he puts his shirt back on, poking his head out of the hole before nodding along. "sounds phenomenal."
"okayyy." you drag your syllables, pressing your thighs together as you feel the liquids between your body grow cold. "uh, I'll get to writing today— tonight."
"great, yeah." akaashi fixes his hair, searching for his glasses somewhere in your living room. "I'll let the management know about the update."
"uh-huh." you're scratching the back of your neck, "so, you're leaving now, right?"
akaashi meets your eyes and hesitates, "uh, yeah. it's late."
"it is." you bite down your bottom lip, "uh, could you get me a tissue? it'll be in my bathroom. inside the cupboard."
he furrows his brows, "tissues...?" his eyes fall to your thighs and suddenly he's tainted red. "right, right. fuck. sorry." he's sprinting to your bathroom and though you know you and your editor have just made things 100x worse in your professional lives, you can't help but laugh at his hurry.
when he comes back, he offers to wipe it off for you. you shake your head, telling him it is unnecessary. he insists and somehow, now the two of you are blushing like teenagers as he fixes the mess he created.
"t-thanks." you pull your thighs shut as soon as he's done, as if you're too scared to show him exactly where he was buried less than an hour ago. he nods, picking himself up and dusting off the imaginary dust on his clothes. "I'll go now."
he's at the door when you're calling out for him. he turns around, his eyes locking onto yours. "yeah?"
the silence hangs in the air longer than either of you are comfortable with. you rub your arm up and down, up and down, up and down. then, you bite your cheek.
"this doesn't change anything between us, right?" and you know it's a dumb question to ask. everything has changed. two hours ago you didn't know the size of akaashi's dick or how good he is with his tongue. now, you do.
"no." he says easily, like it's second nature to him. "you're the mangaka and i'm your editor."
"and do you... do you regret it?" you're asking before you can stop yourself, "t-this?"
you see his adam's apple jump in his throat. he pauses. "uh, no. not really." pink dusts his cheeks, "i mean, i was doing my job as your editor. you're... uh, you're clear with the scene now, right?"
you nod, not letting your disappointment at his sanitized answer show, "yup. okay, so no regrets."
"none." you're surprised at how quick his answer is. you repeat, "none."
akaashi twists the door knob, "y'know if you ever want advice on the other scenes..." his voice trails off and you're already laughing, "yeah, i know just the man to contact."
"send me the chapter when you're done with it."
you nod and watch as he steps out and closes the door behind him. in the silence that akaashi is left behind, you're groaning and slumping back on your table. this was the worst. sure, he said nothing changes but everything changes! was this a one time thing? did he mean it when he said that you could contact him? was it a joke?!
you pick your naked body off with another loud groan. none of it mattered right now. you had a chapter to draft.
two weeks later.
knock, knock, knock.
you open the door to your apartment, confused to see your editor at the door. you had sent him your latest draft.
"i got your draft." he says, stepping in despite not being invited. you lock the door and follow him into your own house, "okay, and...?"
"i have a few revisions." he turns around to face you, his eyes are intense, burning with something in between desire and spontaneity. you swallow, cheeks already heating up at the idea of his revisions. "you could have just let me know over email, keiji."
he steps forward, his eyes following your face like a predator following a prey, "the revisions are better in practical." he brings a hand to your cheek, pulling you closer. his lips hover yours, "i have a few more ideas. do you wanna know?"
and you know that if you nod, if you close the distance between your lips then you two would be entering something you can't come back from. fucking once is a mistake. fucking twice? that's harder to explain — both to yourself and each other.
but you're closing the distance, whispering against his lips, "yeah, tell me."
a.n: NOT PROOFREAD. staring the new year with a BANGGGG (quite literally).
also, first time writing for akaashi, did i make him ooc? anyways EDITOR AKAASHI WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE SO HERE IT IS. ENJOY THE FILTH MWUAH MWUAH.
old m.list | new m.list
#synopsis. kei tsukishima swears up and down that he hates your guts, your bratty mouth and eagerness in class pisses him off—in a 'i'm hard but i'd rather die than admit it’ way...right?
#tags. ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP, 18+ mdni, not proof read, college! au, afab! reader (she/her), p/v penetration, slight dubcon, public use of vibrator, spanking, hair-pulling, creampie
#count. 1k
hatefucking!kei who never pays attention to you when you're passing by each other in the corridors and you never give him the time of day when you're around other people.
"oh, there's one more seat there," yachi says, pointing at two empty seats. the empty chair sits between two seats: one that's empty with a shoulder bag and dinosaur patch hastily thrown onto the seat and shoyo on the other, stuffing himself with whatever lunch preferred to spend on that day.
you shrug, holding your tray as you make your way between the seats. you're about to strike up a conversation when—
"jesus, it's like they've never seen anyone return a book," kei grumbles, his lanky body making his way to the table. he's about to sit down when he notices you, a sneer forming on his face.
"guess there aren't any vacant seats after all," you roll your eyes, grabbing your tray again.
hatefucking!kei who can't stand you but craves your pussy like a madman.
"god, are you always so fucking loud?" he growls, throwing his head back. it'd been well past midnight when he snuck into your dorm, the lack of pleasantries would make you think you forced him to visit you. but he'd had a hard day, some stupid, idiot of a group mate pissing him off.
"and are you always so fucking annoying?" you retort back, sinking his dick into your pussy. you hiss, the familiar stretch instinctively arching your back. you were on top of him, your hands against his stupidly fit chest as you slowly grind yourself down to his hilt.
he groans, gritting his teeth as he watches you bounce. he claims to hate when you top him, says you don't have the brain power to be in control. but god, if it isn't a sight. your tits bouncing, his large hands gripping your waist.
"brat," he growls before he starts to thrust up, the movement unexpected which causes you to stutter slightly. he curses, tugging your hands down so your chest falls onto his and he pulls you in for a messy kiss.
hatefucking!kei who can hardly control himself, even when you're both in a public setting. when he wants you, he has to have you.
"someone is going to see," you hiss, pushing him away as he drags you into a nearby supply closet. he shuts the door behind you, pushing you against the wall.
"do you enjoy whoring yourself out?" kei asks sharply, using one hand to pin you against the wall. he uses his other hand to unbuckle his belt. he glares.
"what?!" you ask, trying to push him away.
"that top? that skirt? in a lecture?"
"it's new!" you defend yourself, rolling your eyes. "we're in the middle of class, our professor is going to look for us—"
"then let's make this quick," he grumbles, tugging his pants off with both his hands now. you swallow thickly, a sliver of his abs apparent as he removes his hoodie next. the shirt under just barely grabs onto the fabric.
you complain under your breath but you're removing your skirt.
hatefucking!kei who forces you to wear a controllable vibrator when you have a big presentation coming up that week. a sadistic smirk sits on his face as he hands control the device from under the table.
"the—the—uhm...yes," you choke out, your knees buckling slightly.
"everything alright?" sir takeda asks, standing as he makes his way up to you.
"everything is alright, just—just a little—sick," you smile tightly, gripping your flashcards. you look briefly at where kei is, glaring at him. he responds by turning up the intensity.
you let out a soft gasp, gripping your skirt as you look at everyone in horror.
hatefucking!kei who says he hates you but can't stand the thought of another guy making moves at all.
"he's a fucking idiot," kei whispers into your ear as he thrusts into you. it'd be another late night at the library and one of the guys in your class gave you a chocolate bar and some notes on his way out. kei saw it from the corner of his eye, his study desk not to far from yours. never too far from yours.
"kei," you whine, arching your back. you claw at his shoulders, red lines that litter his body. he's always had a stupidly long cock, even if it wasn't as girth-y as other he's never had a problem hitting the right spot over and over again.
"couldn't even fucking help you figure out the packets if he tried," he growls, hands on your hips as he quickens his pace. he spanks your ass, causing you to moan louder. you aren't sure if the paper thin walls was enough to hide your secret anymore.
"you won't talk to him tomorrow, will you?" he asks sternly but his breath is just as ragged as yours. your pussy has always been his weakness. he uses his free hand to grab a fist full of your hair, tugging it towards his ear. "if i see you so much as look at him, i'll make sure you can't cum for weeks, whore."
hatefucking!kei whose satisfied when you turn down that stupid classmate. he's probably a business major anyways, he told you that morning.
"that sounds awesome," you smile kindly, the poor guy gave you a run down on his project proposal hoping to have you as a research partner. "but i'm paired up with somebody else already."
you nod towards kei's direction. he was leaning against a pillar, phone in hand as he nods to the music in his headphones. the guy frowns, opening to his mouth to say something—almost as if to ask if that was the guy you spent half of recitation debating against last week.
"hey," you suddenly hear. it's kei removing his headphones, as if to signal for you to come over. "we need to work on that goddamn paper."
he squints his eyes as you bid goodbye to the guy, giving him an apologetic look. it's only when you practically limp your way to him, a drop of kei's cum dripping down your leg does he really understand why you turned him down.
a/n: working overtime to get this out when i promised they'd be but i was just told we have an exam this week T__T super sorry about it guys but i swear they'll all come out!! raaaah!!
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Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who builds a whole 5-star resort for you in minecraft. And its only for you.
Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma crushed on you so hard in highschool and even up until now, a simple caress from your hands makes him bricked up. That man easily folds when you make eye contact with him.
Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who likes to sleep with his arm underneath your shirt, hugging your waist from behind, and occasionally always fondling your boobs. He's got his leg on top of your leg, chest pressed againts your back, hand under your shirt playing with your breasts, and his lips kissing your neck to your shoulders.
Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who enjoys you straddling him on his lap when he plays his games in his living room. He'd have his arms hugging your back, your head in the crook of his neck while he tries to quietly play because he knows you drifted off to sleep.
Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who ends his livestreams amd game sessions earlier now that he's finally got you to be his. He's just happy and excited to be with you, all comfy in his apartment, under his bedsheets.
Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who always leaves social parties with the excuse of "Sorry, I gotta go home to my girlfriend." and when they ask why, he just says:
"'Cause I wanna be with my girl."
Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who manhandles your body for your butt to sit on his lap, just 'cause he's feeling extra clingy. He rests his chin on your shoulder and hugs your from behind, his hands holding the console rests on your lap.
Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who doesn't like to admit that he likes loves it when you grind on him. But you know he does, because he doesn't remove you from his lap. Instead, the poor man just grunts and whines, helplessly complaining about how he can't focus on his game, but he still holds you down so tight so you can't stand up.
Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who's both a top and a bottom.
