When he's a golden retriever in public but anything but that in bed
He's always had a personality in the public of oh he's too sweet and charming, the golden retriever, cutie who helps old ladies cross the street, the one who crams his girlfriend's family members names and birthdays, the one who carries all your shopping bags and never let's you lift a finger, who takes you out on dates to celebrate any achievement, who drives you everywhere. He's the perfect text book golden retriever boyfriend in public but in private it's a whole different story
When he has you face down in the bed sheets crying from over stimulation as he plows back and forth into you whilst you're shaking and barely staying up on your knees if not for his hands keeping you on your knees and arching your back perfectly so he can fuck your cunt just how he wants.
"S'too much" you slur out whilst squeeze the sheets beneath you to get a sense of stability "sorry love it's just that you look so good today─ and everyone kept looking at you and nngh fuck" he rasps when you squeeze around his swollen cock, the compliments going from your head all the way to your cunt.
Nobody would think that it's your boyfriend who couldn't hurt a fly that has his hand squeezing the fat of your hips and fucking up into your ass and rearranging your guts.
"S─shit right t─there" you whine while he pistons into your with his balls slapping against your clit driving you crazy, every thrust sending closer and closer over the edge.
The sheer size of him overwhelming you backed with how many times he's made you cum has tears running down your face and ruining your makeup
"S──so tight, all mine fu─ck... No one else mine mine MINE nghh" he's so fare gone after going about this for hours his cock twitching inside you.
"I'm gonna, I'm c─cum─" you cry into the pillow body shuddering all over, eyes rolling back hips snapping back into his cock, spasming and gushing all over his cock. Finally you felt his cum flowing deep into you fill you up to the brim the frothy mix of both of your releases forming a ring at the bottom of his dick.
Still recovering from the high you notice he hasn't stopped moving in you, his cock is still going at that punishing pace, like he doesn't even realize he's still fucking you and talking to himself in a daze "ah fuck so good baby , too good your pussy feels too aghh"
content warnings: p in v sex, reader referred to as "girl" as in "pretty girl", caregiver kink, breeding kink, creampie, thigh riding, virginity kink, corruption kink, praise kink, d/s elements, impact play, titty sucking, guided masturbation
ushijima gets painfully hard taking care of you. he loves how dependent you become for every little thing - how your eyes get so sweet and gentle when you thank him for all he does for you. when he's cooking soup for you, his brain is a million miles away, off fantasizing about you fluttering around his fingers, your voice a hoarse whimper against the thick column of his neck. he doesn't care if you can feed yourself - he wants to see you willingly open your mouth when he tells you to, wants to make sure you have a belly full of nutrients before he parts your legs and noses between your folds. "it's good to have an orgasm when you're not feeling well. everyone knows that, my love."
sakusa has a breeding kink because of the ownership, the mess, the sheer fucking risk. you had a pregnancy scare once and it bricked him up instantly. now every time he's fucking you, he's promising to knock you up, smiling to himself when you clench and groan around him. he stuffs you full of cum and then fingers it back into you, fingertips expertly rubbing along the walls he's just coated white with his seed. you're a mess of his making, painted in his cum and soon to be swollen with his child.
daichi isn't stupid—he sees the way you look at him, virgin eyes all sweet and trusting when you tell him that you want him to be your first, that you trust him. he wishes he could ignore the possessive desire to take your virginity, to corrupt you so completely that no other man can ever lay claim to you in the way that he has. but he can't, not when you're whimpering in his lap, legs draped on other side of his thigh, swollen pussy beating in time with his heartbeat as he bounces you up and down. "i know, i know," he soothes. "feels real good, doesn't it, angel?"
oikawa is the sloppiest pussydrunk simp to ever exist. the second he's inside of you, he's moaning and whimpering, barely able to stop himself from praising you. "oh fuck baby -- my pretty baby, you feel so good. you're mine, right honey? all fucking mine?" he can barely control himself; the velvety suck of your walls along his cock feels unreal. "wish you knew how good you feel -- it's impossible not to fuck you full, sweet girl." he buries his face in your neck, hips erratic in rhythm, thighs flexing with every thrust. "please let me cum inside you, baby, please." his fingers dig into your skin when he feels you tighten around him. "oh fuck, right there? is that where you need me?"
kageyama lets you use him like a dildo - legs tied apart and your panties stuffed in his mouth. he's uncharacteristically noisy in his pleasure, grunting and groaning every time you shift your hips. "you like being used like this, don't you?" you smirk down at him. "mr. big strong volleyball player just wants his pretty dick wet." but all he's thinking about is the sheer athleticism of your thighs, how beautiful you look with sweat dripping down your face and in between your tits, and how desperately, violently, he needs you to let him cum.
tsukishima loves to fight and fuck. nothing gets this man harder than someone who goes toe to toe with him. what he didn't expect was how much he wants you to smack him across the mouth when he finally slides inside of you, how much he wants you to tell him he's not fucking you well enough. "slap me," he says. you flash the nastiest smirk before your palm rings across the side of his face. his cock twitches. "yeah. do that shit again, baby."
kuroo loves how smart you are; one of his favorite things to do is lay between your thighs and listen to you read to him, his face squished into your tummy and his arms wrapped around your hips. he loves it so much that your reading sessions often turn into him lazily licking between your folds for hours. a command for you to keep reading rumbles from his throat whenever your focus wavers, when the swirl of his tongue through your wet heat bucks your hips off the bed. "who said you could stop?" he pulls away from your clit. "i'm really interested in learning more about mycology, baby."
best friend!suna takes your "getting your tits sucked on can't feel that good" personally. he tells you it's a shame that no one's ever made you feel good like that, that you should make sure you don't like it before you entirely discard the practice. "plenty of people have sucked on my tits," you tell him. "none of them were me," he replies, all serious calm mixed with arrogant intent. you know you're fucked when he squeezes the heft of a breast in his palm, teeth scraping over your nipple. you arch into his touch. "see? the little princess just needed special treatment."
kenma is amazing at guided masturbation. he doesn't have the best game in person, but behind a keyboard, he's a master. his instructions for you are always slow and methodical, a careful exploration of the erogenous zones he knows drive you wild. you're so obedient, too, sending him voice clips when he tells you to, your pretty voice on display as you finger yourself slowly. his final message reads: please show me how pretty you look rn, along with a picture of his flushed face, leaking cock in his hand.
streamer!kenma fucks his girlfriend on stream because his fans are insufferable.
the losing streak starts subtly enough that kenma almost convinces himself it isn’t real, though watching from behind your own screen makes it painfully obvious things are about to go downhill.
the first match slips away because of a cheater, the second because of a teammate disconnecting halfway through, and the third— well, the third is entirely his fault, though he refuses to acknowledge that out loud.
the quiet hum of his computer fills the pauses between rounds, broken only by the rapid clicking of his mouse and the occasional soft sigh he lets out when another objective falls apart on screen.
chat, naturally, notices before he does.
messages begin stacking faster with every defeat, laughing emotes multiplying as the scoreboard appears again and again with his name sitting stubbornly on the losing side. kenma leans forward in his chair, eyes narrowed slightly.
“it’s not a losing streak,” he murmurs, voice calm but edged with quiet defensiveness. “the matchmaking’s just weird tonight.”
chat disagrees immediately.
he queues again anyway.
the next game lasts longer, long enough that hope briefly returns, only to collapse during the final minutes when everything spirals at once— the unmistakable sound cue of defeat appearing before he can fix it. the screen fades, results loading slowly, and kenma stares at it without moving, fingers resting lightly on his keyboard as if continuing might somehow undo it.
on his other monitor, his chat is absolutely dragging him
apple.creampie: disrespectfully please retire
kodzukenkink: just unplug that mouse ☠️☠️
kenmasbbg: UR WASHED its time to get off unc
ilovegamerhands: blink once if u need coaching
one hand comes up to push his hair away from his eyes, headset shifting slightly as he tilts his head toward the scrolling messages.
a donation alert cuts through the noise, cheerful and traitorous— and to his surprise, it's yours.
kodzukenkink donated 1000$! “maybe try winning?”
“…wow, you guys are assholes. 'specially you, kodzukenkink.” he says after a moment, faint amusement slipping into his tone. “…you’re all very confident for people not playing,”
he’s not tilting, not really; he just exhales through his nose, leans back in the gaming chair until it creaks, and lets his voice drop into that lazy, velvet register the chat eats up.
“alright. i’m ass tonight. chat, save me. what do i do?”
the sidebar ignites. the usual mix— get good, switch to fortnite, take a nap— but one phrase starts spamming, gaining traction, bold and relentless.
he doesn’t even hesitate. a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth— the one only you ever really clock. he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“fine. you degenerates win.” he opens twitter on his phone, searches his @ with zero shame, and starts scrolling. “let’s see what you freaks are saying about me this week.”
hecanruinmykda: why'd bro fold under 0 pressure
hiswifiwife: he was waiting for this 😭☠️
first one he reads is tame, almost sweet. he tilts his head, reading it slow on purpose.
“‘kenma’s fingers are so long and pretty i want them in my mouth.’ huh.” he flexes said fingers against his phone, lets them hover over the keys for a second like he’s considering it. “that's bold. zero out of ten creativity, though.”
he keeps going, voice low and amused, like he’s reading the weather instead of porn disguised as compliments.
“‘imagine kenma whimpering your name while you ride him—’ nope.” he cuts himself off, but not before letting the sentence hang just long enough for the chat to explode. he snorts softly. “you guys are so embarrassing.”
kenmasbedhair: DEGRADE US MORE KENMA
verifiedkoduzukenobserver: ready set GOON
needsleepandkenma: all 10 fingers
“‘kenma’s voice is made for dirty talk bf ASMR i need him to call me a good girl while he takes it out on me after he loses in ranked.’”
he pauses, lips curving into the smallest, softest smile— the kind that’s just for the camera and maybe a little for you. “good girl, huh? that’s sweet.” he lets it linger for a beat, then adds, gentle, “i like the imagination. you guys are creative tonight.”
they’re eating it up. the teasing shifts, predictable as clockwork.
rankedwithkenmawhen: no gf to say that to??
spectatingmyhusband: lonely kenma canon
parasociallystable: dw dada i can be ur gf <3333
he reads the last few silently first, eyes scanning, then exhales a soft, fond sound— like he’s smiling at an inside joke.
“you keep saying i’m single like you’re trying to manifest it,” he says, voice light, teasing without bite. he tilts his head, golden eyes catching the ring light just right. “what makes you so sure?”
the chat stutters for half a second— then explodes.
respectfullyunwell: ?? WAIT HE DIDN’T DENY IT
apple.creampie: KENMA HAS A GF???
ilovegamerhands: PROOF PLS KING
verifiedkoduzukenobserver: PROOF OR BAN
he doesn’t laugh at them. doesn’t brush it off like a joke. he just lets his gaze settle on the camera like he’s talking to a friend who’s being adorably clueless.
“so… you really think i’m single?” he asks, soft, curious, almost gentle. no mockery, just that quiet invitation to keep going, to dig deeper if they want.
the chat goes nuclear— screaming, crying emojis, frantic “SHOW HER THEN” and "MUST BE PROPAGANDA," and donations flying in with hearts and question marks. he doesn’t give them anything concrete. just that same small, warm smile as he reaches for his drink, takes a slow sip, and lets the moment stretch.
“interesting,” he murmurs, voice dropping into something softer, more private. “guess we’ll see how long that theory lasts.”
he stretches then— lazy, hoodie riding up just a hint at the waist—and gives the camera his usual wave.
the stream cuts to black, and the room goes quiet except for the low hum of his pc fans winding down. you hear the familiar creak of his chair as he pushes back, the soft shuffle of his slippers on the floor, and then the door to your room easing open.
kenma slips in without knocking and immediately spots you on the bed, propped against the pillows with your phone still in hand, one eyebrow arched like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment.
he doesn’t say anything at first. and watches you with that half-lidded, golden-eyed stare that’s equal parts tired and amused.
you break first, because of course you do.
“so,” you say after a moment, voice carefully neutral, “i see you decided to soft launch me to several dozen thousand people tonight.”
“they were being annoying,” he says simply, dropping onto the bed beside you. his thigh presses warm against yours. “figured i’d give them something to chew on.”
you set your phone aside, shift so you’re facing him properly, knees bumping his hip. “oh, you gave them something alright. i think all your thirsty fangirls are screaming crying right now."
“they’ll survive.” he says, voice low, almost lazy. he reaches out, hooks two fingers in the waistband of your shorts, tugs you an inch closer like it’s nothing.
you lean in a little, voice dropping to that playful murmur you save just for him. “so… are you going to hard launch your beautiful, sexy girlfriend tomorrow, or are you gonna keep dangling the carrot and let them beg for crumbs?”
he hums, thoughtful, thumb brushing idle circles against the skin just above your shorts. “could be fun.” his gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up.
your pulse kicks up— not nerves, just heat, anticipation, the thrill of knowing exactly how chaotic he’s willing to let things get when he’s in this mood.
“that's bold,” you say, grinning. “you sure you’re ready for that level of degeneracy? they’re already feral tonight. tomorrow they’ll be even worse with visual confirmation.”
"i'm used to it by now. wanna show off my pretty girlfriend to everyone."
he kisses you then— slow, unhurried, like he’s got all night and tomorrow’s stream is just bonus content. when he pulls back, his voice is a murmur against your lips.
“better get some sleep. s'gonna be a nightmare tomorrow.”
you laugh against his lips, low and sure. “you’re the one who poked the hornet’s nest, babe. don’t act like you’re not excited.”
and tomorrow comes fast.
by the time he starts stream the next day, you’re already settled: pink gaming chair dragged right up next to his black one, close enough that your knees brush his when you shift.
he doesn’t announce you. doesn’t even look at the camera when he hits “go live.” just leans back, a can of coke in hand, and says in that deadpan drawl, “hey, chat. got company today. also known as yesterday's biggest dono 'kodzukenkink'” he raises his hands briefly, putting quotation marks around the username.
canonicallydownbad: HE WAS BEING FR ???????
kneesweakforkozume: KENMA SOFTLAUNCH TO HARDLAUNCH IN 24HRS???
certifiedkenmasimp: HOLY FUCK SHES GORGEOUS
you don’t flinch. just tilt your head toward him, smirking, and wave once. the donations start pouring in like someone opened a faucet. hearts, crying emojis, “MARRY ME BOTH OF YOU”, “KENMA-SENSEI SHOW US YOUR WAYS”.
kenma glances sideways at you, the tiniest curve to his mouth, then back to the screen. “chill,” he says, but there’s no heat in it. he’s enjoying this. “she’s not going anywhere. be normal for once.”
they’re not normal.
they never are.
the questions come fast, overlapping, shameless.
verifiedkoduzukenobserver: IS SHE THE ONE U CALL GOOD GIRL 💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭
kenmasbedhair: bet she’s the reason you end stream early sometimes 💔💔
hecanruinmykda: does she make you whimper kenma
hiswifiwife: Q&A SESSION STARTS NOW TELL US KING
you laugh— clear, bright, unbothered— and lean closer to his mic just enough for your voice to carry. “you guys are so nosy."
kenma’s ears go faintly pink, but he doesn’t pull away. instead he sets the drink down, and turns his chair toward you a fraction.
“they’re asking if you’re the one,” he says, voice low, almost conversational, but his eyes are locked on yours. “the good girl thing.”
you arch a brow, leaning into his touch. “am i?”
he doesn’t answer with words. just lets his gaze drop to your lips, then back up, slow and deliberate.
chat loses what little composure it had left.
apple.creampie: NOT THE EYE SEX????
spectatingmyhusband: HELLO? ARE WE INTERRUPTING SOMETHING
parasociallystable: ATP JS BEND HER OVER THE DESK ALREADY 💔😭
certifiedkenmasimp: I SECOND THAT
kneesweakforkozume: we need an onlyfans yesterday
kenma reads the last one aloud, voice dropping into that velvet register they all lose their minds over. “'we need an onlyfans'.” he pauses, lets the silence stretch, then looks straight at the camera. “keep talking like that and i’ll bend her over this table right now. you want that?”
the sidebar turns into a wall of yes yes YES YES caps-lock and barking drooling emojis.
you feel the heat crawl up your spine— not embarrassment, just raw want. you shift in the pink chair, thighs pressing together, and meet his eyes with a slow, challenging smile. “y'know, babe, you're threatening both them and me with a good time.”
he exhales a soft laugh, then— “alright,” he says to the camera, voice flat but laced with that quiet amusement only you ever get to hear fully. “enough foreplay. we’re playing two player obby on roblox. you degenerates can behave or i’m ending stream early.”
you watch your tiny blocky avatar spawn on top of his on a floating pastel platform suspended over an endless sky, cheerful music chiming through both your phone speakers and his headset at the same time. the title screen proudly announces two player obby. you're playing on your phone while he plays on his pc, streaming his screen for his viewers.
"ooh, get ready to lose, kenma."
"(y/n).. we're supposed to work together to get to the end."
then, your avatar jumps.
misses.
falls directly into the void.
the oof sound effect plays through your speakers.
kenma exhales a quiet laugh beside you, shoulders shaking faintly.
you glance sideways at him. “don’t laugh.”
“i didn’t say anything,” he replies, which is technically true, though the amusement lingering in his voice makes it worse.
his avatar waits patiently at the edge of the platform while yours respawns, blocky arms lifting stiffly as you try again. the controls on your phone feel slightly delayed, thumbs tapping carefully as you line up the next jump.
you make it this time.
barely.
“okay,” you mutter, leaning closer without realizing, concentration pulling your brows together. “this game is stressful.”
“you’re supposed to jump when it moves,” kenma says, tone calm, eyes flicking between his monitor and the corner of his screen where chat scrolls endlessly.
“i am jumping.”
your character slips again, teetering dangerously before regaining balance at the last second.
chat explodes in celebration like you’ve achieved something monumental.
you’re both leaning into your screens, trading quiet commentary. “wait, stand on that button,” you mutter. “got it,” he replies, voice soft, focused. your characters sync up effortlessly, and it’s nice. domestic. almost normal.
almost.
then the chats starts creeping back.
jokingly, of course.
certifiedkenmasimp: bend her over when she dies again
kneesweakforkozume: lmao co-op but make it 18+
canonicallydownbad: kenma if u die she has to ride u on cam
apple.creampie: we’re kidding… unless 👀
respectfullyunwell: SPICY CONTENT OR RIOT
your eyes glance up to the chat and you immediately smirk, a mischievous idea now planted in your head. "woah. your fans really want you to fuck me on live. y'sure you don't wanna give your sweet fans what they want?"
kenma reads a few silently, lips thinning. you catch the exact second his patience snaps— not dramatic, just a quiet click. he pauses the game mid-level, and looks up directly into the camera.
"you guys really don't know when to stop," he sighs.
apple.creampie donated 500$! "kenma if you hate us so much just fuck your gf on stream and end our suffering 😒"
he doesn’t speak right away.
just reaches, wraps those long fingers around your wrist, tugs once—sharp enough to make your breath hitch— and pulls you right between his spread thighs so your ass bumps the edge of the desk, facing him.
“sit.”
you start sideways like a coward. but he lifts you up, spins you until you’re sitting on him proper— facing the camera, thighs forced wide with his knees, with your back glued to his chest. you let out a small yelp from how rough he was.
chat loses its fucking mind instantly.
he doesn’t even glance at the spam. his left arm snakes around your and his right hand dragging slow up the inside of your thigh. his middle finger traces the soaked seam of your shorts, presses just hard enough to make your hips twitch like a needy little bitch.
“look at them.” kenma's chin jerks toward the monitor. “they've been begging to watch me ruin you nonstop. and you—” his fingertip circles your clit through the cotton, slow and mean, “—you've been egging them on.”
you try to hide your face but he catches your jaw and forces it right back to the lens.
“eyes on camera, slut.”
two fingers shove under the fabric, sinking in knuckle-deep and curling right into your g-spot. your whole body jolts.
“fuck—kenma—” you try to bite your lips to keep your sounds in,
“shut up.” his thumb presses your clit in tight, nasty little strokes. “already dripping down my hand like a desperate whore. don’t act shy now.”
his chat is actual chaos. half keysmash, half straight-up “please fuck her on stream” donos lighting the sidebar on fire.
he repeats one comment, deadpan.
“‘bend her over when she dies again’.” he lets out a tiny dry huff. “so fucking predictable.”
fingers scissor once, twice, then rip out. you whine like you’re dying.
he drags those slick fingers straight to your mouth, pushes them past your lips.
“clean your mess.”
you do as he says— tongue swirling, tasting yourself while thousands watch you choke on his fingers.
“good girl,” he breathes, almost sweet. then, “such a filthy attention whore.”
pulls them out with a wet pop, smears the spit and slick across your thigh like he’s marking territory, then grips your hips and stands— lifting you like you’re nothing.
he folds you over the edge, tits mashed to the wood, ass up, face inches from the camera. ring light catches every bead of sweat, every flutter of your lashes, every tremble.
he yanks your shorts and panties down— fabric tangled around your thighs like makeshift cuffs.
with his fists in your hair, he yanks your head back so the camera gets the perfect money shot: lips swollen, eyes glassy and nearly fucked-stupid already, drool at the corner of your mouth.
“look at them,” he orders, quieter, darker. “let them see the face they’ve been paying to wreck.”
he pulls his sweatpants and boxers down just enough— blunt head nudges your entrance, fat and hot, rocking there just to make you feel how thick he’s gonna split you open while the entire stream watches.
“say it.”
“haah, fuck me.”
“louder. make them hear how bad you need it.”
your eyes flick to chat— pure depravity, begging in every language.
“fuck me, kenma— please— fuck me on stream—”
he slams in, one long, brutal stroke that punches the air out of your lungs.
your mouth falls open in a silent scream. he doesn’t let you breathe, just sets a punishing rhythm— deep, mean snaps that make your palms slip on the desk every time his hips slap your ass.
“keep looking at the camera,” he orders when your head tries to drop. hair yanked back harder. “let them see your pretty face while i use this cunt.”
tears prick your eyes— not pain, just the overwhelming stretch, the exposure, the sick thrill of being their porn.
his free hand snakes around, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing fast and filthy until your thighs are shaking like you’re gonna collapse.
“clenching so fucking tight,” he mutters, almost to himself. “you love being their camslut?”
you can’t speak— just broken, pathetic moans every time he bottoms out.
he folds over you, chest to your back, lips brushing your ear.
“come for them,” he whispers, voice pure command. “show the chat what their money bought.”
you shatter.
your whole body seizing, mouth wide in a soundless wail as you gush around him, vision blurring white. he fucks you through every pulse, relentless, until you’re whimpering, oversensitive, legs trembling so bad he has to hook an arm under your hips to hold you up.
only then does he let go— few more thrusts before he buries balls-deep and fills you with a low, guttural groan the mic eats right up.
silence for a beat. just both of you panting.
then he pulls out slow, lets you slump boneless over the desk, and finally— finally— ends the stream.
god bless any loved ones who joined Just Chatting | Things Got Weird expecting wholesome gameplay.
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
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?"
how it feels when you're reading a fic and a character you love is mischaracterized so horrendously to the point where it's not even them but everyone in the comments love it
