✧ Soulmate!Sakusa X Reader; You Are Karasuno’s Manager And, Unfortunately For The Both Of You, Very

:0 your sleeping on the couch thing was so nice!! If it’s not too much, could you do something similar with Atsumu, Oikawa, and Bokuto?

sleeping on the couch after an argument part two

feat. Atsumu, Oikawa, Bokuto

♡ warning: angst, happy ending

♡ a/n: ahhh I'm glad you liked it hehe

♡ part one

ATSUMU

arguments with Atsumu are the worst sometimes because he just expects you to see things from his point of view??

and when you pointed this out to him, he was not happy to hear that

so instead of acknowledging it, he changed the subject

"Let’s just go to bed, I have an early practice tomorrow” he says, making his way to your bedroom first

and of course you’re livid because he just chose to hold off on the argument

like heck you’d sleep in the same room as him

you lay down on the couch, curling up and draping the throw blanket over you

a few moments after closing your eyes, you sense a looming presence

fluttering your eyes open, you see Atsumu hovering above you, still looking annoyed

“What the heck do ya think yer doing?” he asks, and scoops you from the couch and towards your room

“Put me down ‘Tsumu!” you’re doing your best to thrash around in his arms, but his grip on you is too strong

“Yer acting really petty- sleeping on the couch is a tad dramatic don’t ya think?” he says, setting you down on your side of the bed before heading to his side

“I’m not! I’m seriously upset with you and I don’t want to sleep in the same bed as you Atsumu!”

you watch the panic set into Atsumu’s eyes when he realized that yes, you were 100% serious

instantly wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest

“please don’t say that Y/n. you didn’t mean that did you? I’m really sorry I know I’m a selfish idiot”

to him, hearing those words from you stung him. the fact that you were so fed up with your boyfriend that you couldn’t stand to even sleep near him made him worried that you were slowly starting to stop loving him

the tone in his voice is enough to calm you down

“no I don’t mean it.. I’m sorry too, I’m just tired and wasn’t thinking.” you reply, stroking his hair. and he starts to calm down too

you feel Atsumu nod his head

“okay, well let’s get proper rest and talk about this in the morning rationally” he says, kissing your forehead

“I thought you had an early practice”

“that can wait, you’re more important” he mumbles, hugging you closer to him and slowly drifting to sleep

OIKAWA

arguments with Oikawa can get stressful

because it’s clear he knows what the issue is- but sometimes his pride just gets in the way of admitting his wrongs

during your latest argument, he accidentally snaps at you for being too much and how he already knows what you told him

he calms down for a bit, but doesn’t realize how his words stung you

“let’s just go to bed” he sighs and makes way towards your bedroom

you’re honestly really hurt, and it feels just wrong to go to bed during this entire debacle, so instead you lay down on the couch to sleep

the argument itself was extremely tiring for you, so you’re able to fall asleep in no time at all

but Oikawa’s still awake in bed, just scrolling through his phone waiting for you to come in

after sometime of mindlessly going through social media, it finally hits him that he’s been waiting for a considerable amount of time

his first thought is that you were still riled up and just didn’t want to go to sleep right at this moment, so he heads out to the living room to get you to go to bed

"Y/n-chan, c’mon time to go to sleep. You can’t just stay up that’s not good ..” he stops talking the moment he sees you fast asleep on the couch

and now he’s freaking out. it’s not that you didn’t want to sleep- it’s that you didn’t want to sleep with him

which says a lot about how you currently feel about him and your argument

he panics and rushes over to the couch to wake you up

“I- wha? What do you want Tooru?” you groan, keeping your eyes shut

“I’m sorry!” he says, throwing his arms around you

“...what?” you’re starting to wake up more, but you definitely heard him apologize

“I said I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue anymore if it means you refusing to sleep in the same bed as me” you’re now fully awake and look at your boyfriend, and you can see the alarm in his expression

he’s just too scared to lose you, and he’s afraid that if hets you sleep on the couch just this once, then things will go downhill from there

but that’s a discussion for another day

you look at your boyfriend and you can tell how sincere he’s being with his apology, so you lift your arms up

and he carries you back to bed 

“..we still have to talk about it in the morning you know” you mumble

“mhmm” he hums before pulling you closer to him

he doesn’t care about that all too much because he knows you two will be alright in the morning

BOKUTO

arguments with Bokuto were uncommon, but when they did occur it was a big deal

and tonight was no exception

the two of you weren’t listening to one another and it felt like you both were talking to a brick wall- it was terribly annoying to deal with and you knew it was going nowhere

"C'mon Kou, let's head to bed- we can talk more in the morning" you sigh, and without a word, the two of you start preparing for bed

while you're brushing your teeth, you start thinking about how you really don't feel as if it's right to be in bed with your boyfriend

the argument was kind of your fault, wasn't it? you started to feel extremely guilty for your actions- and thus you made the decision to sleep on the couch

perhaps sleeping separately would help the both of you clear your minds more

when you finish up your nightly routine, you peek your head into the bedroom, you saw Bokuto fast asleep

you made your way to the closet to grab a spare blanket and head towards the couch

you were extremely exhausted so it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep too

but Bokuto woke up probably an hour after he had fallen asleep, and of course he noticed that you weren’t next to him

his first thought was that you went to get water, so he decided to stroll into the kitchen to grab some for himself

but when he entered the living room and saw you sleeping on the couch, he was extremely confused, like have you been sleeping there the entire time?

he walks up to the couch and frowns, feeling especially guilty that you had chosen to slept on the couch

brushes some of your hair out of your face and cups half of your face

he sees you smile a bit in your sleep upon feeling his touch and there’s a wave of relief in him

like heck he was going to let you sleep alone now

when you wake up hours later, you notice that you’re no longer sleeping on the couch- but instead on Bokuto who is the one on the couch

your head is rested on his chest, and while the movement of his chest rising and falling brings great comfort- you’re honestly confused as to how this happened

apparently Bokuto tried to squeeze into laying down on the couch with you, and while the both of you technically did fit, it wasn’t the most ideal way to sleep

so he just kind scooted you on top of him, and you slept peacefully on him, hugging him like a giant teddy bear in the process

tfw you trained so hard so that titans won't be able to kill you only to find out that it'll be a kid who'll end up finishing your existence

missionary but you keep apologizing for being loud so he tells you to “stop fucking apologizing” and tilts your head so your mouth is lined up with his ear and just fucks you harder

going live. ✕ sakusa kiyoomi.

now that you’re both home from college and under the same roof, it’s hard to keep to yourselves. which is precisely how you end up quite literally stumbling upon one of your stepbrothers most well-hidden secrets.

an authors note: big, big thank you to real life angel @shinsurou for beta reading this for me— enjoy!

content warning: 18+ taboo content including stepbro!omi, camboy!omi, pseudo/step incest, use of nii-san, a little voyeursim, blackmail attempt, choking, manhandling, live sex/sex on camera, mean!omi, face fucking, dash of size kink, crying, humiliation, condescension, creampie.

“Omi…” You call out, practically skipping down the hall towards his room, “Nii-san?”

The two of you are used to being left alone. Between the busy work schedule your parents have and the fancy dinners, galas, or whatever they’re often obligated to attend, you’re stuck with one another. It’s always been like that. So trips home between semesters are never anything extraordinary.

You’re bored. When boredom calls, it’s time to lift the veil and force yourself to interact with your stepbrother. It’s just— now you wish you hadn’t.

Keep reading

❝ The lights are on, there’s no one here. Puffing with the dragons, I’m livin’ for the thrill, formula. ❞

— Formula, Labrinth

KINKTOBER 14: kita shinsuke — quickie.

notes: 18+, nsfw, aged up, established relationship

wc: 1121

“How’s your grandmother, Kita?” Your mother smiled, her eyes twinkling at the sight of your boyfriend beside you. The look that your parents gives him has never failed to make your heart flutter. They do love him for you.

Kita settled his utensils on his plate. He dabbed the sides of his mouth with a tissue before answering politely. “She’s been well, Mrs. Y/M/N. However, her doctor advised us to keep her confined in her room for a while, so she could regain her strength.”

“Oh, is that so?” Your mother frowned. “The next time you visit, please don’t forget to bring her. I have so many things to ask your grandma.”

Kita chuckled, soft and virile. “I will.”

The dinner went on with your parents asking Kita about anything under the sun. They sure like to hear his voice. You couldn’t blame them, though. Kita knows how to speak to elders, given that he’s been taken care of by his grandmother ever since he was a kid. His politeness just comes out naturally— an attitude you always take pride in whenever you tell stories about him to your relatives and friends.

“So, how’s your relationship with our daughter going so far, Kita?” This time, it’s your father who spoke.

You tensed on your seat as Kita placed his palm on your inner thighs, a little bit higher than he’d normally go to whenever you eat dinner with your parents. By the action, you look at him, widening your eyes as a warning. Kita gave you a sideway glance, a ghost of a smirk adorning his pretty lips.

“We’ve been well, Mr. Y/F/N. She’s been lovely since day one,” he said, squeezing the skin of your inner thigh. You suddenly looked down to bite your lower lip. He knew too well how touching that part of your body would make you feel. What is he planning to do?

Your father hummed in approval. “Is that true, Y/N?”

Snapping your head towards your father, you sucked in a breath inconspicuously. “Y… yes.”

Across from you, your mother clapped her hands together. “Aren’t they lovely?” she cooed. “Brings me back to the time your father was still head-over-heels with me.”

Your father chuckled and leaned closer to her. “I still am, love.” They giggled and chuckled.

“Kita, have you tasted the salad—” You came in a halt as he leaned closer. His breath fanning your ear, tickling you. The feeling left electric shocks down your stomach.

“You looked good in that dress,” he whispered, “I can’t wait to fuck you in it.” Then his hands traveled up to your clothed cunt. Kita brushed his pinky against the soft material, earning a small gasp from you. You couldn’t help but squirm, therefore locking his hand in your inner thighs. However, Kita yanked your leg open as he continued to rub your clothed pussy.

“Oh, darling, we’ve totally forgotten about our visitor,” your mother suddenly gasped, making you jolt in your seat. Kita pulled his hand away, once again flashing your mother his infamous well-mannered smile.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Y/M/N. I don’t really mind.”

“You’re always so sweet, Kita,” your mother fawned. “Now, why don’t you show him around, Y/N?”

“Alright, what was that?” Upon closing your bedroom door, you sauntered up to Kita with the question leaving your mouth.

Your boyfriend smiled before pulling you towards him. Kita cupped your cheeks as he stared at your eyes. “Damn,” he cursed. The word made your stomach tingle. Cursing isn’t one of his characteristics. He only does that whenever he’s agitated… or whenever he’s going deeper inside you. “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“You know, we can’t. They’re downstairs,” you teased him, brushing your nose with his.

In one fluid motion, Kita turned you around so your back was pressed against his chests. He placed a firm grip on your waists as he pushed his clothed bulge into your ass. “We don’t have to be loud, though.” His hands traveled to your thighs, and up to your waistband. “We’ll be quick,” he says as he pulls your panties down. Your cheeks automatically heated up by the feel of air against your wet cunt.

“Kita,” you breathed, anticipation high up on the roof. You could feel your cunt throbbing in utter lewdness. And having Kita’s dick buried in you would make it shut up. “Fuck,” muttered you as he slid his cock inside your wetness.

Kita reclined his forehead on your shoulder blades as he picked up his pace. “You’re so wet.” The slicky sounds of your pussy being penetrated by his hard member resonated through the room. You had to brace yourself behind the door as he plunges into you deeper.

“Kita— ah!” you squealed as Kita reached for you clit from behind. He started to rub your bud as he fucks you from behind. “Ah, slower!”

He panted, grip on your waists tightening. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“But…” you exhaled, “If you— ah— continue like that, I won’t— ah— contain myself!” Your cheek was pressed against the door, your back bending to give Kita the opening he wants so bad. He was pounding into you now. The slap of skin to skin audible in the four corners of your room. “Kita!”

“Yes,” he whispered as he leaned closer, “Louder. Let your parents hear how dirty you are for me.” His rubbing turned harsh and his pace didn’t slow down. At this rate, you would have a hard time containing your moans. And the crudeness really didn’t help.

“I— I’m coming—” you choked, feeling the orgasm building up to your abdomen.

“How would they—” Kita puffed out breath, “react, if they caught you drooling while I fuck you?”

“Please, Kita!” you cried. He was stretching you even more. His dick solidly pumping in and out of you. Kita put a finger inside your mouth, you drooled as you have no more control over it.

“I’m gonna cum so hard,” Kita breathed with a chuckle. “Your pussy’s squeezing me, babe.”

“Oh, oh, oh,” you exhaled as the orgasm washed through you. Your legs trembled by the feeling. Hand shooting up to your mouth to contain the sounds you were making.

Kita pressed you further to the door before he stilled, your name leaving his mouth in a hiss. “Fuck, your cunt couldn’t even take it all.” You realized his statement as you felt hot liquid pouring down legs. You shuddered as Kita pulled out, the emptiness inside you wrapping you up like a blanket.

He left kisses along your shoulder and up to your cheek as he combed your hair with his fingers. “Let’s go back?”

taglist: @dearsakusa @tanakipple @uneffervesscent @atsunakaashi @galagcica @urbasicaveragegirl @momoinot @tsumshoe @legendaryoikawa @sarcastickaigan @simplesammyx

Set My Heart Ablaze

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Creepy Matsukawa, Obsessive Behavior, Public Train Sex

Prompt: Chikan/Trains/Public Sex

Summary: Neither of you can deny the mutual spark of interest between the two of you, but Matsukawa takes the matter of turning that spark into a fire into his own hands. Only time will tell if that fire will provide you warmth and comfort or burn you alive.

A/N: This is my submission for the HQHQ NSFW Collab! Masterlist can be found here. Be sure to check everyone’s content once the masterlist goes live tomorrow night~

The train doors open and Matsukawa briefly glances up, smiling to himself as you step onboard, looking left and right for an open spot despite how you always end up in the same corner of the moving vehicle. He doesn’t know anything about you, not even your name. Yet he finds himself drawn to the normalcy you bring, the comfort of knowing you’re a clockwork fixture of his everyday life.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Matsukawa is just a man at the end of the day and he doesn’t deny that he took note of you long before you became so ingrained in his life. But it had been no more than a man observing an attractive woman and he doesn’t give you another passing thought as he returns to gazing out the train windows.

But working with death on a daily basis makes you look at life differently.

He prides himself on being a practical and level-headed man and despite the heavy nature of his profession, he never thought he’d get too bogged down by the environment, by the grimness of his business. Sure, maybe someone like Oikawa would freak out within hours, if not minutes, of being in a funeral home surrounded by corpses and coffins. But he’s not Oikawa (thank God for that). It’s just a job to help keep a roof over his head and food on the table.

But the longer he’s surrounded by caskets, the more grieving and sobbing families and friends he has to comfort yet professionally guide through catalogs and brochures and price tags, he can slowly but surely feel the weight of his daily work resting heavy on his shoulders, digging deeper into him with every corpse and tragic story he reluctantly becomes privy to. Matsukawa finds a new appreciation for life, for every tiny and minute detail, and suddenly you aren’t just another stranger who happens to share his train route.

You’re a reminder that he’s still alive, that despite the curveballs life throws at some, he’s still blessed to enjoy the routine and monotony of it. Life looks different, clearer, as he begins to really pay attention, appreciating every moment he has.

Maybe he’s paying too much attention. He doesn’t know when he begins to focus so intently on you, shocking himself with the realization that he’s observed you so closely when he nonchalantly notices that you’re using a different tote bag than your usual one. When did Matsukawa Issei become someone who notices the details of a woman’s outfit and accessories?

He knows it’s not right, knows even Hanamaki would crinkle his nose in distaste if he found out Matsukawa was creepily studying a random unknown female on a daily basis. But he can’t help himself, his realization only seeming to make him unconsciously focus on you even more. He notices what hand you use to hold your phone. He memorizes every expression you make as your mind drifts off, lulled by the machinery of the train.

But looking from afar only satisfies him for so long and he finds himself creeping closer to you, adjusting where he sits to be closer to your preferred corner of the train. He always tells himself just a little closer, but it’s never enough. And although he’s now standing right beside you, close enough to see every eyelash, every pore of your skin, it’s still not enough. He needs to hear your voice, feel your body against his, know everything about you inside and out.

He understands the irony of the situation he’s found himself in, reminiscing on how Hanamaki and him had gagged at how disgusting men could be as they watched older businessmen grope and grab at poor unwilling female passengers on their way to and from school. He knows how wrong it is, how like an uninspired porno this is, but when the train conveniently rattles, he jostles his body into yours, “accidentally” bumping into you.

Acting isn’t Matsukawa’s forte, but he thinks he damn well deserves an award for the performance he’s putting on as he profusely apologizes to you, hiding the groan of satisfaction he feels from the brief contact he’d had with you, from the way your attention is solely focused on him, from the way your voice seeps into his ears like the loveliest melody he’s ever heard. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, meaningless small and polite talk leaving his lips as his mind focuses on what’s more important, mentally recording every syllable and movement you make as you continue conversing with him. But whatever words are spilling out of him seem to be working and something hungry and possessive stirs in him when your face lights up as you board the train the next day, making a beeline towards where he stands as you cheerfully greet him.

Maybe it’s foolish of you to so easily trust and warm up to a complete stranger. But he’s tall, attractive, and interesting, which is more than you can say for most of the men you’ve met and your friends and family are always telling you to put yourself out there more. Is there really much of a difference between finding a random stranger on the countless dating apps you’ve installed versus connecting with one in person? You’d even argue that there’s something whimsically romantic about how the two of you met, even though you don’t know for sure if this is really going to lead to anything. But at the very least, your daily commute becomes more exciting.

You’re everything and more compared to what Matsukawa had imagined and if he thought he was infatuated with you before, he’s completely and utterly obsessed with you now. You’re all he can think of, all he can see in his mind’s eye, even hours after you’ve parted ways on your morning commute, even as he lays in bed in the middle of the night. And as his hand slips underneath the hem of his boxers, wrapping around his aching cock to his imaginations of what you’d look like writhing underneath him, how you’d sound moaning his name, he knows he needs to have you.

After all, as pretty as a meal can be, it’s ultimate purpose is to be devoured.

You giggle when the train shakes and you feel a long toned body shift into yours, squishing you against the wall you’re leaning against, sighing in bliss at how right, how good it feels to be in Matsukawa’s embrace even if it is just for a fleeting moment, a little accident all too common on jam packed trains. But your face heats when you continue feeling his warmth, when his body seems to press even further into you until you can feel the expanse of his body against yours, not even an inch of space left between you.

“Matsukawa-”

Your words are caught off by a gasp as Matsukawa buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, lips and tongue mouthing and licking the sensitive skin there. You’re confused, scared, and aroused, hands reaching up to clutch at the lapels of Matsukawa’s suit, unsure whether to hold him tight to you or push him away. And your humiliation only increases when a nearby elderly couple scowls at the two of you in disdain, clearly unamused by the scandalous gestures of what they believe to be a young couple in love.

Yet you can’t help how your heart beats faster, wondering if this is proof of Matsukawa’s attraction to you, wondering if your hidden feelings for him are returned. But this isn’t the time or place for that conversation and you fervently whisper in his ear, begging him to stop, telling him people are watching.

“Is that the only reason you want me to stop? Because people are watching?”

You grow flustered at the implied meaning of his words, shame filling you at how much you’re enjoying this, hating how your neck arches for more attention as he straightens up once more, his body hiding yours from view as he stands in front of you, still pinning you to the wall.

“Better be as still and quiet as you can, sweetheart.”

You don’t have time to register his words before your mouth opens in a pathetic whine as a calloused hand trails under the hem of your shirt, sliding across the stretch of your stomach, mapping your torso before finally shoving your bra above the swell of your breasts, kneading one of your mounds, tweaking and swirling around your hardening nipple. It feels so good and you almost succumb right then and there, lost in the predatory lustful gaze he pins you with.

But when the train makes its next stop, the conductor’s voice jars you from your trance and you clutch at Matsukawa’s forearm, silently pleading for him to stop with desperate eyes despite the way you quietly mewl when he just quirks an eyebrow and pinches your nipple in retaliation.

“We can’t- We shouldn’t-”

Your hand trembles, jaw going slack when he slides one thigh between your legs, digging his hard muscles into that already dripping hole only protected by the fabric of your pants.

“You’re not very convincing. How about we play a game? If you can tell me you don’t want this without moaning like a bitch in heat, I’ll stop.”

There’s no room for disagreement as he abruptly begins grinding his thigh into your aching cunt, flexing and relaxing his muscle in a pattern and rhythm you can’t keep up with. It takes every last bit of will power in you to not wantonly ride his leg and hump against him like the lewd slut he had just accused you of being.

“I don’t want-”

You cry out in agonized pleasure as his fingers still hovering near your breasts begin to roll your nipples between calloused tips, his thigh never losing its momentum. And under the dual points of attack, your resistance crumbles. Matsukawa’s eyes widen in awe as you bounce and roll your hips against his leg, hiding your face in his chest as you try to muffle the lewd sounds slipping past your lips in the fabric of his jacket.

You’re gorgeous like this, a needy, lustful mess. But as much as he loves to see you suffer so beautifully, there’s only so much time before your stop and he decides to have mercy on you, to reward you for being so honest, so good for him. Your face snaps up to stare at him with pupils blown wide as his hand reaches underneath the waistband of your pants and panties. He groans when his fingers are instantly soaked in your arousal, your panties sticky with your fluids and his digits slip inside of your tight wet heat with no resistance at all.

He wants nothing more than to push the pesky fabric out of the way and lay you bare for his viewing pleasure, to have easy access to thrust in and out of you. But he’ll save that for another day. Instead his fingers slip out of you, tips circling your swollen clit, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves as you resume humping his leg, body trembling, drool beginning to trickle from your lips as you frantically chase your end. And as the train stops once more, passengers trickling in and out, you silently scream, body convulsing as he brings you over the edge, pleasure washing over you and leaving you exhausted as you shiver and slump in his arms that are quick to embrace you and hold you steady as the train begins to move again.

You submissively let his fingers coated in your essence enter your mouth, obediently sucking and licking him clean, finding strange comfort in the action as you remain rested against him. But you keen in confusion, cheeks still hollowed as you mindlessly continue sucking while he guides one of your hands to the bulge in his pants.

But although Matsukawa is a man of few words, his desire is clear despite the silence and your face heats in embarrassment as he unbuttons his trousers, bringing your hand to the waistband of his boxers, dark eyes expectantly staring down at you. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Not when you can literally hear the other passengers surrounding the two of you, only Matsukawa’s tall frame hiding your illicit activity. But your body has a mind of its own and you greedily slip under the fabric barrier, moaning around his fingers at how large, hot, and heavy he is in your hands.

You hate how badly you want to see it, to feel it inside you, splitting you apart. Your pussy clenches, leaking in interest once again despite having just found blissful release mere minutes ago as your hands curiously trail up and down the shaft, trying to memorize how every bit of it feels against your skin, trying to visualize what it looks like. But you whimper as Matsukawa finally pulls his fingers free from your mouth, squeezing your jaw and giving you a warning look.

“Don’t tease me, doll.”

Your fingers wrap around the length and it’s your turn to stare up at Matsukawa with eyes full of hunger and awe as you watch his Adam’s apple swallow, as you feel a pleased groan reverberate in his chest with every stroke of your hand. Up and down. Up and down. Your hands are slick with pre-cum and you know it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear the lewd wet sounds of his sticky essence coating his shaft with every movement of your palm against the velvety skin. You’re so mesmerized, so lost in the experience that you startle when something hot and thick spurts onto your hand, mixing with his pre-cum, making an even bigger mess of his boxers and you.

You stare stunned at the hand you pull out from between his legs, gazing at the white and transparent fluids that coat your flesh. But before you can even think about wiping it off or scavenging around for a spare napkin or paper in your bag, a large hand grabs your wrist and brings your stained fingers to your mouth. You try to resist him, the spell he had you under broken now that the haze of lust isn’t blinding you. But his grip tightens until you wince and finally relent, stomach churning in disgust and shame as you tentatively lick at the bitter liquid.

He doesn’t release you, not until every last drop is coating the inside of your mouth, his taste heavy in your mouth, seemingly in every crevice of your orifice, your hand completely clean and void of your sinful interaction.

You want to hate him. You want to wipe the smug satisfied look clean off his face. But as you readjust your disheveled clothing, you’re reminded of your own body’s betrayal, your own carnal desire and pleasure, by the uncomfortable mess in between your legs. And all you can do is silently stand there and pretend that nothing has happened as Matsukawa nonchalantly tucks himself in and checks his phone.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as you wait for him to acknowledge what has just happened, only to be disappointed as he doesn’t even spare you another glance, too observed in the glowing screen in his hand. You wonder if this was just a one time thing, if he had been stringing you along all this time for one quick public tryst. And you hate the way that thought makes your chest hurt, hate how much you dislike the idea of never seeing him again, never talking to him again, never feeling and tasting him again.

But as the train pulls into his stop, your eyes widen when his face hovers by your ear, lips grazing your lobe as his voice melts into your soul.

“Wear a dress or skirt tomorrow. No panties or bra.”

He laughs as surprise turns into an endearing scowl that barely hides the apparent relief in your eyes and he just casually waves farewell as you send him on his way with a tirade of angry words about his fucking audacity. But it’s all empty heat and he chuckles at the self-conscious embarrassment written all over your face when he sees you the next morning, a pretty dress fluttering around your knees.

There’s no preamble, no pretense of what’s about to happen and he smirks in appreciation at the unobstructed feeling of skin against skin as he slips his hand under your skirt, not an inch of fabric covering the treasure at the apex of your thighs.

Imagine hating on me but i spend my free time maladaptive daydreaming about getting raw dogged by fictional men

— 𝕤𝕒𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕖

1.1k words | smut | sex under the influence, alcohol, porn without plot, creampie, minor daddy kink because i said so, one (1) french word | akaashi keiji 

“those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.” ― william blake, the marriage of heaven and hell

a.n. shorter than usual. i blacked out when i wrote this; pls be gentle. 

“kaashi-“ you murmur as his drunken lips graze yours, “kaashi, we shouldn’t.”

the party around you is still in full swing. purple and blue lights glow dimly in the crowded living room as the patterns on the walls slip and slide out of focus. akaashi swears he isn’t that drunk- swears that it’s just because of the lights and the music and the taste of your lips on his that he’s rendered into a puddle of lust coated desire, desperate for every ounce of your touch.

“my room,” he breathes lowly, drawing you into another heated kiss, “i wanna ravish you, pretty girl.”

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『The Pretty Third Year』

pairing: Oikawa Toru x Reader

anon request: can i pls hav a scenario where oikawa was practicing his serves and the f!reader was hit by the ball and when he came to her she saw his face and was like: “..god?” or smth like that skdhsj

a/n: ngl kinda got carried away with this one

wc: 1.1k

genre: just some fluff and hinting of future romance bc oikawa’s smitten lmao

warning/s: none

You had no care for the world at all as you stroll towards the almost empty volleyball gym, skeptical about your decision to give being their manager a go. 

“You won’t regret it, you’ll see, I bet you’ll get along with our captain,” Kindaichi grins. 

“Hm, now that you say it, Oikawa-san and y/n would click, childish minds and all that shit,” Kunimi nods, “up to you though,” followed by a shrug. 

Well, their words can’t have come from nowhere, even Kunimi agrees that you’ll love managing the team, and gaining a few more friends isn’t bad either. Poking your head through the doorway, you scan the place, immediately intimidated by the frowning third year by the benches. 

In an instant you hide outside, telling yourself that you could maybe make friends elsewhere and that being their volleyball team manager just ain’t for you. Right, you smile to yourself, relieved that you didn’t have to face any scary scowling third years. 

“Oy y/n I saw you, just come in!” You kinda want to punch an onion-head right now, but you keep it cool and stop moving, hoping the silence would be enough sign for him to leave you alone. 

“Maybe you’re imagining things.” Listen to Kunimi, please.

“Y/n just come in!” 

“Fine,” you grumble to yourself, legs begrudgingly carrying you towards the door. The last thing you see is Kindaichi’s horrified expression before you’re knocked to the ground.

For more than a few seconds, everything’s shifting and you couldn’t comprehend what was happening around you, your head hurt and you were beyond dizzy. Just when you’re about to fall to your side— your head no doubt bound to make contact with the wooden floor, a hand supports your head from behind while your back rested on something firm, warm and moist with sweat. 

Oh, it’s someone’s thigh. 

Your vision’s all blurry with your head pounding too much for you to understand the string of apologies and “are you okay’s” from Oikawa, who guiltily so— was the one to hit you with his infamous nasty serve. 

“Iwa-chan is she dead? Oh my god I can’t kill someone!” 

“Y/n are you alright?”

“Back off, give her some space, but seriously are you okay? Can I take you to the hospital?” Toru couldn’t hide the worry and panic in his voice as he looked back at your squinted eyes, his calf starting to ache from having to support you with his thigh but he couldn’t care less, no. 

Finally, you could see quite better, though you still had to squint your eyes as you looked up at the the third year who held you, the light a tad bit too bright behind his head. 

“It’s too bright,” you groan in pain, and you feel his hand brushing strands of hair off your face. “Is it now?” You hear him mutter mindlessly to himself under his breath before he slightly shifts, now blocking the light from your face. 

“Better?” He smiles, and when you could now see him clearly, it’s as if your brain and rationality flew out the window. “Pretty,” the word comes out in a genuine and awestruck tone, definitely clear and loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Oikawa Toru was indeed the prettiest person your eyes ever landed on your whole life— with his mint green Seijoh shirt, the material sticking to his chest because of his sweat, his handsomely disheveled hair that you could only imagine running your fingers through, and with his lips slightly apart as he breathed through them; chest rising up and down quite heavily, obviously because he’s been practicing too long. 

He smells so freaking great, and he was extremely close you’re gravitated to hold him. 

What really had you smitten and weak were his eyes though, with the way he looked at you, you could almost pretend he found you as interesting and beautiful as you did him. 

You snap out of it the moment you hear Kindaichi’s laughter. Oikawa was clearly surprised at what you had just said—speechless, eyebrows raised, and head cocked to the side in puzzle. 

Kunimi snorts from behind his captain, “she’s okay,” he says while trying to stifle his giggle. Oikawa’s caught in a dilemma, should he flirt and get carried away with the admiring look in your eyes or should he check on your condition first?

The latter, he tells himself. 

“Y/n-chan, was it? You okay? Does your head hurt?” He calmly asks you as he helps you completely sit up without having to lean on him. 

Toru being afraid you’ll collapse or get dizzy again, was still sitting at the balls of his feet, his thigh just behind your back and his hand unconsciously massaging your head. This doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone, of course— what a shocker, the Great Oikawa was genuinely this concerned even though you’re evidently okay now?

“Here,” he offers his hand, helping you stand up, the both of you failing to fight the fuzzy feeling in your chests at the contact. You may look like you were still battling the dizziness in your head but in reality, you were cringing so bad now that you’ve realized what you had just said. 

“Thanks, Oikawa-senpai,” you shyly mutter, your idiot friends giggling at your exchange. For obvious reasons, you can’t bring yourself to look up at Oikawa, “I’m really sorry y/n-chan, you appeared out of nowhere, you could hit me back if you like, though Iwa-chan already hit me hard too, wait, no, the point is, I’m really really sorry,” he brings his hands together as he slightly bows his head.

“It’s fine, please don’t worry about it,” you try to reassure him, instinctively grabbing his hands to have him retrieve himself from that position and at the same time planning your escape. “Uh, it’s late, I have to go,” you awkwardly say when he looks at you, and your eyes meet even if it’s just for a mere second before you looked away again. 

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, eyes darting to his hands which you’ve held just seconds ago— he doesn’t want you to go yet. 

“Yes, uh, goodnight, and uhm well, take care,” you flush, cringing at every word that came out of your mouth. Take care? Wow, you sound so stupid. 

Before he could say something back, you’ve rushed out of the gym, his heart ultimately deflating after seeing you go. With a sigh, he turns on his heels to get back to practicing his serves— he can’t help it, there’s nothing he could do to see you nor does he have any reason to talk to you again. 

Little did he know you sat right outside the gym, on the first step of the staircase, with your hand on your chest at an attempt to calm down your erratic heartbeat. The image of his smile, his eyes, his face— breathtaking. His voice was velvet and his supposedly platonic touches were so immaculate for you that you still feel the tingles and the warmth despite being out there in the cold. 

Your friends were right, you’d love to manage their team.

or maybe you’ll love him, an involuntary voice from your subconscious makes you grow flustered all over again. 

“That sucked,” Iwaizumi comments just to piss him off more, referring to his 27th failed attempt at a decent serve. Oikawa groans, running his hands through his hair in frustration, “how annoying!” 

“Oikawa-san, you’ll see her again, you know,” Kunimi nonchalantly says without looking up as he scrolls through his phone, aware of how he’s got his captain’s attention in an instant. 

“What? What do you mean? I wouldn’t care less if I don’t Kunimi-kun,” he tries to brush it off, though he was beyond curious— when and how could he look back at those pretty e/c eyes of yours and hear you call him pretty again? 

“Y/n L/n, Seijoh first year, class 1-2,” he says with an eye roll. Oikawa grins— so you went to his school too, now there’s nothing to be down about anymore. Maybe he’ll accidentally cross paths with you in the halls and maybe he’ll accidentally strike up a conversation too. 

“So you guys are friends?” He asks, the subtle smile on his face never shaken off. “I guess, and just so you know, she came here because we asked her to try being our manager.” 

“Our manager?” He smirks, spinning the ball in his hands now with oozing confidence and ease, “even better,” he chuckles before tossing the ball in the air, and with full force sending it across the net, successfully hitting the floor with precision, speed and power. 

“Someone’s fired up,” Iwaizumi says with an eye roll, but his comment was ignored as Toru happily hums to himself, picking up another ball from the ground 

“Can’t wait to know you, y/n l/n.” 

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