seijohsfairy

[seijohsfairy]

𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁

sometimes you meet a stranger on a windy balcony in the middle of the city, and sometimes you fall in love with him too.

.wordc. 4k+ tw yandere, implied noncon, toxic relationships, older meian, daddy kink, cunnilingus, brief drug use, fluff ??

+

If the light hits you right, you look infinite. And even if it doesn’t, you still look about a million miles out of his league for what he’s concerned. All bright smiles and quiet apologies when passing by people. He should be a waste of free time to you for all intents and purposes. A face in the crowd. The thought makes his chest feel a bit tight though, because despite the irrationality of it, he still wants to be here. With you, bathed in the glow of the sun and resting so peacefully beside him.

He doesn’t like feeling like just another guy, reminds him too much of his past disaster relationship. Which is why you’re so different, so perfect. Other people judge, you don’t. You never judge him, so he thinks the least he can do is the same in return. His ex-wife still has the keys to his place, though she doesn’t have the intention of using them ever again. She’ll lose the keys long, long before he changes all the locks. You still have to get settled into his bed first, but if you were to ask for the keys he’d let another set be made instantly.

Because he’s known you for only a little while and you already have his heart beating erratically. No longer overcome with the sense of longing. If anyone were to ask, and his friends do on occasion, he’d tell them this is it.

Now, there’s you. A stunning, young thing, beaming warmth and goodness from the seams. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing here, truth be told, because as much as he stares at you through thinly veiled casual curiosity, there’s no changing the fact that he could be twice your age and you should most likely be disgusted by him.

He’d been coming to that quiet balcony staring out into nothing everyday for months. But you’d walked up to smoke beside him, resting your chin on the railing and looking so fucking small and vulnerable. Maybe it’s the way you don’t even spare him a second glance, not gawking at the huge, hulking attraction of a guy he finds himself being looked at so often, or the little tears that glisten at the base of your lashes as you take a deep pull and let the drug filter in. He guesses that to you, most people are big and overwhelming, considering.

He’s no longer in his prime. He knows it better than most, is confronted with it every time his reflection catches him. He’d thought it then, still thinks it now. Older, divorced and between being busy with work and his growing collection of dropped hobbies, there’s hardly anything he can offer you. He’s at least lucky he’s not balding, but he knows he looks pretty much his age with the thin lines here and there, slightly greying temples and stubble that doesn’t stay away long when he shaves. God, he feels old.

It’s a fucking miracle and a half that he managed to keep his usual wit, entertaining you in your nightly loneliness and carefully offering to walk you back to your street for safety. It’s difficult not to seem like a threat when you’re— him, but he’d been genuine. You were too tiny and kind to be out by yourself. You’d taken it, too sure that he was out for no harm. Looking back, that young naivety is something he should be worried about.

He didn’t buy his way into your pants that night, but you’d clearly been some level of upset, so that first time had been a lucky lay. A one off, he’d thought. The way you creamed around his cock and moaned so softly, so beautiful when digging your nails into his shoulders. You could’ve told him it was a dream, slipped out like nothing ever happened.

He’d forgive you. At this point he’s almost certain he’d do anything for you. If you asked him to seriously injure your asshole boss for you, he wouldn’t think long. You’re too kind to ask that though, too forgiving too. He takes a few deep breaths as he thinks, finally tearing his eyes away from your cute, sleeping pout to look out the window.

There’s some noise from the waking city outside, he still worries it’s gonna wake you badly and you’ll curse him for one of the many mishaps he’s committed against you and walk right out. You could’ve, probably should’ve. But you’ve ended up in his bed a few times now, and every time it gets harder to just let you go with a coffee and a quick kiss that doesn’t promise much of anything. He’s not even sure that you have his number. But as long as you keep showing up to that balcony, he’ll give you whatever you want.

An almost unnoticeable tap comes to his shoulder. When he turns, you’re up, barely. Eyes open just the tiniest sliver, shuffling a little closer to his warmth. Fuck. You’re so fucking tiny compared to him, his huge, burly body sticking out like a sore thumb from the blankets while you’re buried deep in them. He stays on his back when he reaches over and runs a thumb along your cheekbones, letting the soft skin warm under it. You snuggle into his chest with the last of your fruity, soft perfume that clashes so violently against his.

It makes his chest feel like it’s caving in, pulling the air out of his lungs with each move you make. And he’s always had a bit of a possessive streak, but this is on a whole new level. He doesn’t want you to leave. He shouldn’t let you.

“Mornin’,” he offers, voice too deep and a bit raspy. You hum. Your palm presses to his chest, not hard enough to push, though that is what he thinks at first. Only just enough pressure to be present, to feel his skin under yours. Hesitantly, he rests his hand on your hip under the blankets, running the calloused pads of his fingertips over your exposed side. You mumble something about the light and the curtains, slurring the words and making him utterly weak once again. “Yeah, s’my bad.” He takes a deep breath, and you make no effort to get up.

“Have breakfast with me?” You look utterly content in his arms. Say yes. Say yes. “Or ya can use the shower, I think ‘m gonna take a day off.” He knows, actually, because he’ll at least drive you back home if nothing else. You’re not taking a tram all the way back to your apartment, he won’t let you. He doesn’t feel the need to tell you that right now though.

Doesn’t need to tell you how jealous he feels when he sees you text someone in the morning, but it’s only because he knows how lovable you are. It’s every soft breath, every time you talk or wrap your lips around your straw and each time you adjust your bra or panties or prance in with skirts that should be too fucking short to wear outside, or say his name in that lower, softer rhythm that has him going entirely crazy.

And with a mumbled agreement, he pulls you close and presses a kiss to the top of your head, as you let out a sleepy giggle and kiss his neck.

+

It’s been almost two months of unspoken routine. You don’t always show, but most nights you do. At least once a week for sure. You know the way to his place, hid out from the rain once. You know where he stashes the fresh towels and you’ve flipped through the pictures of him in the national hall with his arms thrown around his team, drenched in sweat. You talk over a glass of champagne that you admit to bringing to impress him with hot cheeks. It takes a little coaching but you let him in too, the few times he visits your apartment, your roommate out for the night.

But you look more at ease in his house, he thinks. Giddy being swayed in his strong arms and being lifted off your feet to reach the higher shelves. He guesses two months in you reach the honeymoon phase, though you’ve still yet to label it, which admittedly, gnaws at him. You don’t seem like the type to leave his house and run into someone else’s arms, but sometimes he thinks the one mark over the row of other splotches on your tits doesn’t look familiar enough to be his.

Sometimes he walks you to the tram and some guy sneaks a good look at your ass, and you don’t flinch. You smile at the next door neighbor, a guy frustratingly close to your age, and he smiles back. Maybe, maybe you’re fucking them too, it does seem to come naturally to you. He doesn’t resent you for it, but that guy— you wince when his fingers dig too hard into your hip. That’s when he has to soften, apologize and lean down to kiss you, which at least you don’t shy away from.

One Saturday you come to the balcony late.

Nervously picking at the elbows of your sweater, he takes a long look at you. You walk up closer after a breath of silence, before slowly wrapping yourself around his side. Your breathing is shaky when you cling on. “I’m glad you waited for me, I don’t— wanna be alone right now.” He knows he shouldn’t, but he tilts your head up into view to watch your teary eyes clench shut, you’re shaking. He might be too, but for different reasons.

You’re so perfect. An angel, his angel, no one should so much as look at you wrong.

“Who did this?” he breathes, and you flinch at the harshness of his voice. But he could never hurt you. Ever. There’s a sprouting seed of anger growing with each passing second though. He lets out a trembling breath. “Tell me who did this to ya.” He’ll kill them, he’ll kill them, whoever hurt you, he’ll—

“No,” you say. Why? His mouth is already opening again, but you tug at his shirt collar and look at him so sadly that for a moment he forgets all about anything else. Nothing beside you matters anyway. “Leave it, Shugo.” You all but pull yourself toward him by the fabric to make a little kissy pout, and fuck, there it is. His little baby. He kisses you, gently and slowly a few times as you whisper it to him again. You can sense that he’s mad, but there’s no way you know just how much.

He lets you kiss him deeper, tongue melting with yours and pull you up against his body for safety, lets you pretend that everything is okay and eventually laugh it off as you two stumble into his apartment with heavy pants, biting down on the skin of your neck hard. He throws your legs over his shoulders and buries his head between your legs and makes you cum, and cum and cum. Lets you fall asleep right after, brushing his fingers along your shoulder and so close he’s scared his heartbeat will wake you.

It’s an hour or so after that your phone shakes, lighting up with a message. Someone named Alex apologizing about the fight and about making you cry. More messages come, a group chat of your “friends” this time and how they should have been more understanding, that they too are sorry. The timing is too neat not to have been talked about too. Would you really miss a bunch of gossip like that?

The light shuts off again after a few seconds, and he stares down at you sleeping so peacefully. Is it so wrong to just want you to be happy like this all the time, not worrying about any of them? You’re safe in his arms. Other people are unpredictable. They cause issues.

You’re too sweet to see it though, but he’s got some years of experience on you.

After a shower early in the morning he goes out for coffee, back again before you wake up. He smiles a bit wider when you do wake and your troubles from last night seem to have evaporated with the sun. His innocent, perfect little flower. He’ll never let you feel like that again.

Shugo watches you sit on the counters and talk as you lick at the whipped cream moustache, kisses you until you melt in his hold too. He asks you to be his girlfriend with a deep rumble of his morning voice, and you say ‘yes’, eyes wide with surprise but happy nevertheless.

He doesn’t tell you it when pushing your hair away from your face, kissing down your neck and feeling your legs wrap around his waist. But he really loves you, you know?

+

Your friend Alex is declared missing six days after your fight with him, and you’re inconsolable for a few hours when the police calls. He understands that, though the tears in your eyes are a bit too much for him. Your friend hurt you, wounded you, you shouldn’t be this sad. What comes around goes around, doesn’t it? But he understands that you’re too kind and naive to see it. However, he doesn’t understand when you tell him you need a few days to be alone.

It won’t do you any good, you’ll just be lonely and he tries to tell you as much, but you just get more upset at his touch. You push his hands off when he tries to pull you back, and he’s gotta admit, that stings.

“He’s just missing,” he ends up mumbling, “it’s not like he’s dead.”

Your eyes go wide, and you stare at him for a few moments, before getting off the couch and walking over to the hall and when he tries to ask where you’re going, you’re basically shooting him lightning, your tears running in crooked lines down your face. “I can’t believe you just said that like it’s no big deal that he’s gone,” you hiss, and maybe it’s that youthful fighting spirit that breaks out next when he tries to comfort you again. “Don’t fucking touch me, I’m going home.” The clock is so loud as it ticks. Oh, so that’s how it is. You’re attached to your friends like that, yeah?

He watches you stomp around his house as you collect your stuff, whispering curses under your breath when you can’t find your shoes fast enough. He stays quiet. You pause before leaving, tell him you’re going to your best friend’s place, and that he shouldn’t worry. He might have responded before you slam the door, he’s a bit too lost in thought.

You’re perfect for him, one little fight won’t change that, you’re not to blame here. But it becomes glaringly clear that he’s right. Your friends are no good.

+

Sometimes you feel like you’re here too often, considering it’s only been three months and a bit. You like Shugo a lot though, he’s as sweet as he’s big and you think it’s the former Captain in him that always seems to know you before you know you. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s so attractive it makes you dizzy. But despite all his best efforts, it’s been a bit lonely. And quiet. This isn’t necessarily a strange thing in itself, if not for the way you left it off with your friends.

Dropping off your radar so slowly it’s barely noticeable, the people you talk to everyday don’t start conversation anymore. Your messages go unread for days at a time, and when they’re finally opened it’s the same short response. ‘Super busy, no time to talk.’ You in comparison have never had this much free time, but ever since the fight Shugo’s been on his best behaviour. He even made sure to move his work home so you wouldn’t be too alone while you’re still on break. His idea too, said the stress has clearly been taking a toll on you.

He’s not entirely wrong either. With everything changing so suddenly, you’ve never felt smaller. You feel fragile. Shugo’s good company though, never bothered by your attention being on him. You let out a breath, drumming your fingers on your knees, deciding it’s been a bit. You get off the bed and tiptoe into the living room where he sits with his eyes aimed at the screen, hair loose and dress shirt two buttons lower than it should be to keep you sane.

You walk up behind your big hulk of a boyfriend to put your chin on his shoulder, hugging him close. Shugo makes a soft noise of agreement, and you rest your nose at his cheek. “Are you hungry? I can make you a snack.”

“S’alright, baby. ‘M gonna finish up ‘ere and pay attention to ya.” With a few clicks more he closes the laptop, getting up from the chair and sweeping you up into a bridal lift so quickly it makes you hick, giggles breaking out after.

“You’re already done?”

His pretty eyes are aimed down at you with a kind of shine you rarely see with other people. It’s so intense, sometimes it’s almost a bit scary. But to have been a top level athlete for years does take a ton of dedication, so it’s no wonder he’s dedicated in other areas as well. “No, just realized I’ve got a hunger for somethin’ else.” He easily carries you back to where you came from, tossing you down on the bed and kneeling over you. His lips curl a little when you blink up at him, before he nods at your chest. “Take that off for me.”

The flimsy top you’d thrown on comes off just as easily at the order, pulling the few bows and shrugging it off. You smile at him sweetly as you grab your tits, pushing them together a little. “Like this, daddy?” He grunts some agreement when he lowers himself, but you roll over before he can use his mouth on you like he so obviously wants to, grin slipping on. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you down on the bed more by your shorts and you squeak when his palm instead traces along your back, settling at the top of your spine and wrapping around your neck. The bed shifts when he sits down over your legs.

“You’re gonna be testy?” It barely takes a second for him to have you back the other way, yanking your legs up and pulling your shorts along with your underwear over the curve of your ass and up your legs. “I don’t fuckin’ think so,” he says, pushing one knee to your chest and you quickly hook your arm around it. He dips down to press a few kisses down your chest, then licking a stripe up the underside and taking your nipple into his mouth. You don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of how easy it is to let him take the lead, his fingers slipping between your legs to dip into your little cunt and rubbing your clit.

“Mhm, wet already?” He chuckles, sucking harder until you mewl under him and spread your thighs more. Tugging him a bit closer by his hair, he slips a finger inside and pushes his palm up to your sensitive nub, sucking marks all over the last ones. You shake under him, rolling your hips to meet the precise, practiced way his finger curls into you before he adds another. With a loud pop he disconnects from your other nipple to squeeze your tits together, then kneeling at the side of the bed. “C’mere.”

Your hips angled up to give him better access, he fucks his fingers into you faster and deeper, now instead starting to lick and suck at your pussy and your oversensitive clit. He lets you rub against his tongue and beg for more, giving into you so easily. And you moan louder as the feeling builds, being driven crazy. “Daddy.” You push softly at his head once you’re close, looking at him so blissed out between your legs. “I’m gonna-”

“Y’taste so fuckin’ good.” The short sentence is enough to have your head spinning, definitely when he dives back in again and fucks his fingers right into that spot.

“Ahng, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.” You know he has no intention to. Sucking over and rubbing his tongue along your clit until your vision goes white and your toes curl, back arching from the bed. “Holy — fuck, fuck, ah- daddy, daddy, thank you.” You cum so hard your head pounds, and only when you twitch from overstimulation does he pull away.

You sit up right away to pull him onto the bed and towards the headboard so you can ride him, but a flash of light catches your eye.

On the bedside table, your phone’s ringing. Only, it’s not ringing so much as it’s lighting up. And normally you wouldn’t care, but a thought worms it’s way out of you. “Is my phone on silent?” You didn’t do that. You wouldn’t have, considering you’ve been waiting for people to ring you back for ages. So… Shugo must’ve.

You reach for it, but his arms are longer and he snatches the device right from under you, something that makes your brows furrow. “Daddy, give it back, I wanna know who’s calling,” you pout, watching a bit absentmindedly as he turns the screen away and taps something.

“No one’s calling.”

Your brain whirls. “Yes, it was. Give it to me, I want to talk to my friend.” You would’ve let it ring, you’re still hot and bothered and Shugo’s very hard in his shorts, but you can’t make sense of it. “Shugo, give me—”

He holds it away when you reach for it again, and this time your brows furrow hard enough to look like a glare. But he doesn’t give in, frowning back at you. “It’s not gonna be your friends, ya know that, it’s a wrong caller.” You know that. Your head pounds harder, and another thought makes it’s way up, but you try to squash such an ugly thought. No way your boyfriend would have something to do with the radio silence.

He taps away as you try to make sense of it, you never once hesitated giving him your phone, you never had anything to hide. But the blocked numbers, the opened messages, all your calendar notes vanishing. You thought your phone was old, that the apps were freaking out. “There, ’s gone.”

“My friends—”

“Stop talkin’ about your stupid friends,” he snaps, wrapping his arm around you and pulling your vunerable, naked body into his lap as he tosses the phone aside in some laundry, “they’re no good. I’ll take care of ya.” And you try to pull back to look at him, really look at him, in hopes that this is some kind of joke. But he stares down at you like he’s making total sense, and you’re too confused and surprised to do much of anything. “They won’t bother us anymore, promise. I took care of ‘em.” With that he kisses you again, and you feel like the world crumbles around you.

He pulls you closer, rocks his hips into you and it’s almost automatic when you kick at his thigh to get out of his reach, falling back onto the bed. Part of you wants to ask, but a larger part of you just wants out of here. Far away from him for a while. Your stomach is so heavy, you don’t know what to make of any of this. Just that it isn’t right, the way he’s looking at you with such intensity isn’t all there. You start climbing off the bed, quickly fishing your clothes from the ground. But two strong arms wrap too tight around you, a hand coming over your mouth as he yanks you back into him. Grip painfully tight on your face.

“You can’t leave.” He pries the clothes from your grip, ripping them in half in the process. And you trash against him, tears welling up as you realize how terrifying this is. “You’re mine,” he coos it sickeningly sweet, grip loosening for only a second when you kick at his shin and claw at his arms. “Just—” It’s no use, he’s so, so much bigger than you. He drags you back and bends you over the bed, holding you by your neck and pressing his shin over your legs before he uses his entire body weight to keep you in place.

“You’re still mine, right?” The kisses he plants on the side of your neck are so cold now, they make you sick. He rubs himself on your hip, hard cock twitching. Like this is just some lover’s spat to him, like you aren’t crying your eyes out right now. He presses a kiss to your head. “Ya don’t have’ta be upset, it’s only ‘cause I love ya.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝙾𝙵𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴

You want to be by his side as much as time will allow you. The end all, be all of your soul.  spencer @/kamoniwa​ and i were screaming about this in dms & we gave each other the green light to write it so hfhdis thank you and also a big thank you to carrie @/ourladyofseijoh​ aka queen of sacrilege for beta reading and all your help in general ♡ i hope you enjoy!!

meian shugo wordc. 4k+

tw priest!meian, sacrilege, (semi) public, coercion/manipulation, god complex, degradation, religious guilt/ trauma and a lot of catholic imagery in general, he’s called Father

📷

There’s no place to escape prying eyes in the House of God. You’ve always felt this way when you were younger too, clinging to the cold of the thick pillars that carry the monstrous building, old and dark and unavoidable.

Even when there was no such sin to taint your hands and mouth, you could look up and feel the weight of eyes on you through the deep purple and azure of the stained glass, making your throat tight and fight small. Now, they are incessant, eternal, and with each passing moment standing in this place of good and light the walls seem to crumble a little more around you.

But most of all, you’re overwhelmed by the flicks of a gaze you can feel on your back, flitting ever so gently along the edges of your frame. They are soft, no longer suffocating like sand that fills your lungs. No— the prickly gaze you feel on the swell of your cheeks and down your shoulder is more than that. You light a candle and slot it along with dozen others, taking a deep breath. Unsteady, it trembles through your frame with the weight of this place on your shoulders. The dimness of the high ceiling, the chill of the wind that whips inside and brings goosebumps to your legs, none of it is enough to keep you away.

Not anymore, not since you… well. Faith takes shape in many ways, you remind yourself of those words, willing the nerves to die down as the groups of people take their seats and the pastor up front welcomes with kind words. Most of them are elders, some of which you recognize from when you were still a little girl and who you think will keep coming until death knocks. Strange you knew them before the looks started piercing through your soft skin and the image of unsettling loneliness was taken away. You linger in the back of the large room now, next to one of the pillars, carefully studying the plane of light that falls so perfectly on the pulpit. Golden crucifix catching a gleam, and keeping your eyes straight ahead.

Looming as the building is, sometimes you wonder how you’d fare if you simply stopped coming. If the eyes would follow you long after you’ve run around the corner and hid away under the plush of your blankets. You hope they don’t, but a sharp pressure to your chest tells you they would. And if not, the fear of being left all by yourself is what brought you back in the first place, you have no doubt it could drag you back by your ankles once again. The woman behind the organ starts a simple melody as the people rise to sing. Swirling voices that fill the room and seem to tip the peace off it’s axes, and then a simple breath.

Even though he remains a few steps away, the mere presence is enough to have your hairs standing up and your breathing feel laboured, a needed reminder that this— this is why you return. And that meeting him like this is the closest you’ll get to a religious experience again, that from the moment you met eyes with him and felt his gaze on your tear-strung lashes there was something worth saving. The slow melody of the song is interrupted by a deep voice, and you hold the urge to turn around to him right away.

“Back again already.” There’s something in his tone, always. Under layers of composure and confidence it sits, like a bite of fresh fruit, tempting you to take more, taste more, have all of him— He lets out a breath of amusement when you don’t move, burning his pupils into the side of your face. “It’s a bit soon, don’t you think?” It isn’t really a question, so you don’t answer. You only lace your hands together and look away from the pastor to stare at the floor. “Something to repent for that couldn’t wait until Sunday?”

“I wanted to see you,” you whisper, blinking aimlessly at the tips of your shoes. More than that, it hurt being away from him, ice growing on your veins the longer you waited, but you don’t think it’s fair to tell him that. A soft hum is all his response for a few seconds, before he leans over your shoulder to tower over you so easily. You can see his chest from the corner of your eye, the curve of his shoulder and a bit of exposed skin of his neck. And your tongue burns with a need, an unfair whisper of what could be. What secrets lie upon that skin that you’ll never be able to see.

But with his mouth close enough to your ear to raise the small bumps on your arms, he speaks, voice amused. “Little liar.” Those two words are enough to have your tongue rotting in your mouth, glueing it to the base and fighting through the defenses you want to put up. Because despite the hard tone, there’s a certain loveliness to the term. A sickly endearment for broken things. “I think you’re just looking for trouble so you can repent. So are you a servant of God or not, sweet thing? Because I’m starting to have my doubts.” With another step towards you you sway on your feet, hands clamping down on your shirt.

“I—” you try, stilling just as quickly. You don’t know a lot of things, you’re young and though you’d choose to be a bit smarter, a bit brighter; all you’re really sure of is that you start and end with him. And that from the moment you saw him, so holy and otherworldly, you were called to worship at his feet. You must be a servant of God, if this is all you’re reduced to around him. “I am, of course I am. I’m devoted, I swear.” Another chuckle as he presses up against your back now, voices and music fading into the void.

“Your honesty is endearing,” he whispers, bringing up his hand to the front of your throat and tilting your head back just a bit. The rise and fall of his chest seems more melodic than it should. You long to fall to that sound, let it take over your body and mind all at once. But for now his voice will suffice— and if anything, more than that would probably suffocate you. “But you’re just a sinner here. You shouldn’t be standing here like this. You should be on your knees, praying for forgiveness.”

“I will, Father Meian,” you shake as he squeezes a bit tighter, pulling your body against him more. Your breathing hitching, lips dropping open at the squeeze and the swirling in your brain. So lightheaded, like only he can make you feel. “I’ll repent in front of you a million times if that’s what you deem necessary. Please.” His hard-lined, strong body pressed against you, overwhelming every of your senses. He smells like something dark, a spice that interrupts your thoughts. And it’s unfair, so unfair, because he always tells you you smell sweet, but you’re sure there’s no lovelier scent in the world than him.

He hums as he places a soft kiss on your neck, before straightening out when the pastor up front ends his round of greetings and moves back to the pulpit. And you can feel the eyes that seem to look on from above, but now they seem to beg for you, beg to see your skin split open and be bled out from sin, and you know that only Meian could make that a reality. For as much as you are unknowing about, you do know this one thing. You’d pray at his feet for the rest of your days if you could, crawl on your knees and scrape the skin until your bones turn to ash.

If that’s what it means to worship, you think you could. For him. “What ungodly thing did you manage this time? Think you can tell me?” His large hands trail down the curve of your spine to up at your hips, settling there with soft circles and a deep breath. He pulls you back into his large, strong body, as you pretend that you can’t feel the need gush to your center and warm you up top to bottom. “What’s the matter, my little whore? Can’t tell a Father something so bad, is that it? You think I can’t help you when you tell me about how you opened your legs for me every night for the past month, stuffing your fingers inside yourself while you’re thinking of me?”

You gasp, whimpering when he starts pushing his hips to your backside and bunches up your long skirt to slip his hand underneath it. You stumble to the side a few steps to lean into the cold stone and turn your face toward it, quickly grabbing the front of your clothing to push it back down as much as the fabric allows. Meian chuckles behind you when his two fingers slide over the sticky, wet patch of your panties. “Confess. Or else I stop right now. And you’ll stay a filthy, sopping wet, unmarried slut with no place in the House of God.”

You whimper when those fingers slide under the crotch of them to rub between the slick folds of your pussy, letting you drop back your head against his chest where it rises and falls so gently, taking the most private part of you and making it his again. His breaths cascade down your neck when he leans down to kiss along your throat, and you’re so grateful that you’re hidden behind the pillar enough not to make a scene, because it’s impossible to stay silent when the two thick digits dip into you and slide up to curl your walls.

Making you drip down his hand when he pulls them back, then stuffing them right back in place and stretching you open with easy motions that have your eyes closing and legs shaky. “Confess,” he breathes.

“Yes, I-” you whimper, cold of the stone under your palm the only thing to keep you from floating up, scratching your nails into it, “I touched myself while wishing it was you. W-wanted your—” You’re cut off by your own strained moan that you try to keep in, as he scissors his fingers in you and presses the tip of a third inside too, legs shifting open to make more room. You bite through a cry when he grabs your neck and pushes you forward, now clinging to the stone with shaky fingers and your cheek pressed up against it.

“Want my what?” he taunts, curling his fingers again into the spot that has you seeing stars as he motions in and out of your pussy with ease, humming when you arch your back more and push back against him. “Tell me, pretty girl.”

“Your hands and your mouth— hnm,” even with everything spoken under your breath and the organ still echoing through the grand hall, you feel like the words pound between your ears. “And your cock, F-father, oh-” he pulls his index finger out to rest it against your clit instead, rubbing these as he fucks his fingers into you again and again with a ruthless determination, “ah, please Father Meian.”

When the pressure builds up so much that it’s impossible to focus on anything else, heat filling your belly and legs about to buckle, he lifts the back of your skirt up to expose the way his hand works between your thighs and dripping down his fingers with wet squelches.

You bite down on your own hand when the realization comes that you shouldn’t be getting touched this way in public -no matter how Holy Meian is- but stopping now is impossible. He grunts when your walls clench around him, the touches to your puffy clit becoming unbearable. “Always come running back to me so pretty.” And even in such simple words, you know aren’t imagining the care laced in those words.

“Always.” You reach behind you for his wrist when you get too close, throat catching and thighs shaking, digging your nails into the skin. “Oh- m, I- mhng, so close, please—” You can’t help the moan it drags from you, when he grabs your shoulders and pulls your much smaller body back against him, muscular arm pressed like a safeguard over your chest.

You let your eyes drop closed and lift your one leg for better access, before you’re shaking on his hand. “Cumming-” you cry, swallowing a moan when he grabs your throat and squeezes, the music suddenly falling away. You cum apart around his fingers, eyes clenched shut and shaking as he helps you through it, letting your body collapse into him where he holds you up.

“Quiet, pretty thing,” he mumbles though, “be quiet.” Your lashes are heavy with tears when you look around, stumbling back to your feet when his touch drops and he smears your wetness on the inside of your thigh, still keeping you close to his body as he turns you to face the congregation. Everyone is luckily still looking forward. You tremble when he slips his fingers from under your skirt to slide into his mouth. He leans around your other side to hover his lips over your ear. “See all those devoted people? That’s who I should be helping, instead of some stupid girl who keeps spreading her legs like a filthy, common whore.”

Finally, he lets go of you entirely, and you fist your hands in your white skirt when you finally turn to face him for the first time. Warm, angular eyes that seem to look through you, with pretty lips and a jaw to die for, the strong, intense features of the person haunting your dreams night after night. His one eyebrow raises. “Give me one good reason I should hear your prayers at all.”

“I- I,” you start, looking from him to your feet and then back as you hesitate. There’s so little you can say to him, it’s always been that way. You feel at a loss when you’re around him, but strangely, you feel an even greater loss not returning to him. Like the ocean forever chasing the beach.

“I meant it, I wanted to see you. Wanted to hear you and— want your h-help to get rid of this lust. I know it’s a bad thing but,” you swallow, ignoring the tiny twitch of his lips pulling upward, “but I can’t help myself, Father. Please help me.” He takes a moment to look around, before suddenly holding out his hand toward you. Like an offering.

You can only watch how he takes your hand into his giant palm, fingers wrapping around it to pull you away from the main hall to the side of the building. “Lets talk about this in private.” You’re pulled behind his big steps, frowning at the wet feeling of your panties between your legs. You really are some disgusting sinner, you think, as you’re walked through a smaller door into the sacristy. Not entirely separated, but enough to feel like you won’t be found out within a second if you look at him too long.

And you find yourself making that mistake often lately. “I think I know the cure to your problem,” he breathes, turning around to face you, and you drop your head all the way back to look at him as he speaks. “Here,” he drops your hand to his crotch, letting you feel his hard-on under his robes.

“Oh- I mean,” you feel the heat rise to your face now, looking away. You’d been touched and touched him plenty these last few months, the weight of his cock in your mouth still feeling as divine in memory. But when you try to sink onto your knees like you would normally, he keeps you upright, shaking his head. You blink. “N- How else can I—”

“You need something more than simple prayer.” You tremble a little when his hand comes to cup your cheek, urging you a little closer to his warm body as you feel his cock twitch in his boxers, pushing your legs together at the thought of feeling him there. You know it’s bad, but somewhere along the way lust must’ve taken hold of you too tight, because you feel like you can’t breathe. “Because you’re an unholy slut, a filthy little thing,” he whispers, now pushing the sleeves of your top over your shoulders with the murmuring of the pastor in the background. “You can’t be saved any other way, dumb girl. Take out my cock.”

You look into his pretty eyes as you take a breath, before doing as he says and lifting the black layers of robe. You push his underwear down, his huge cock slapping up against his stomach. The little breath you let out before spitting into your palm and wrapping your hand around him is soft, glancing over your shoulder towards the door. “Father, anyone could-”

“No one’s going to come in here,” he hisses, watching you pump your small hands along his shaft a few times, “if you’re quiet. What do you think they’d say if they found you here, stroking a Priest’s cock like a greedy little slut. This is your fault, stupid girl.” The low rumble of his voice is almost hypnotizing, keeping you right in place as he fucks his cock into your fists. You lean down, licking and sucking at the head of his cock with each thrust you get to feel him push between your lips into your warm mouth. But he stops you and motions you over to the table. “On here.”

Though your heart races in your chest, you do as he says. Laying down, kicking off your skirt and panties and spreading your legs for him with your eyes cast to the floor. He’s quick to grab your hips and haul you higher up onto it, pushing your knee up to your chest. His cock drools eagerly as he stands between your thighs, and you hold onto his hand as he pushes up against you. “Take a deep breath, pretty girl,” he whispers, slowly pushing the spongy head against your fluttering hole. “Let me help you. This is how you atone for your sins.”

Then he pushes into you, the thick head of his cock spreading you open and you instantly close your eyes at the stinging stretch, tearing up. “Aw, ah,” you squeak. You’re not a virgin, but it sure feels like it as your pussy is filled with him, pushing in more and more until you can barely feel anything but the way your stomach bulges to fit him. “Father, ah- M-Meian, it’s so,” your voice is muffled when you bring up your free hand to keep quiet, “big, s’big!”

“That’s it, good girl.” He holds still only a little when your poor walls are entirely filled by him, back arching to relieve some of the almost painful pressure in your belly. “My beautiful girl, there you go.” He pulls back, then pushing back inside with a snap of his hips, and you’re mewling to get away from him. It’s too good, too full and the stretch leaves you so empty each time he pulls back. But his large hands tighten on your hips as he forces himself back into your wet, gummy walls without mercy, speeding up the pace with each thrust. “Feel good?”

In the other room, the pastor’s clear voice echoes through the room.

And Jesus answered them, “Have faith in God.”

“Yes, yes,” you chant, letting him lift you up a little to drive his cock even deeper, pounding into your sensitive pussy so perfectly it has you seeing stars. You open your eyes enough to glance at his furrowed brows, enjoying your reactions more than he should. It’s clear when he shifts his hips up to push right into that spot, holding your legs as you try to snap them closed instinctively.

Have faith in God. Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him.

Instead of going easy on you this only seems to motivate him more, fucking into you even faster. His hips smacking against your puffy clit again and again. “You feel so, hng- good! Oh my— mhm! Too good, t-too good, please give me more! Oh God!”

Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.

Meian doesn’t slow, but instantly lifts your other leg to your chest too, making the table scrape along the stone floor with each thrust into you. And if you’d be able to see through your heavy tears, you’d see the way his lips flatten and a strange determination comes over his eyes. He rests his entire body to hold your thighs up and snaps his hips into you, wet paps of his skin and balls pounding against you. And with that the only thing you can think of chanting is ‘Oh God, oh God, please,’ over and over again as he fucks the thoughts out of you entirely.

And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.

He suddenly pulls out and turns you over, letting you hips bump the edge of the table as you whine and moan, pushing back into your gushing hole as your eyes roll back. “Are you calling me God, baby?” he mumbles, holding your hips down and bottoming out with hard, impatient thrusts. “Calling me your God and coming undone on my cock like this, you want to be my personal whore, is that it?” You’re nodding before you can even realize what his words really mean, feeling his hand slip back between your legs to push over your clit with unfairly slow motions that don’t match his thrusts at all. “Pray to me.”

You do. “Help me, God my Savior, -ahh, for the glory of Your name.” He pounds you open until the pressure becomes so tight you’re clamping down on him, so close to another orgasm. “Deliver me and forgive me for my s-sins,” you cry, voice high pitched and shaky, “for Your name’s sake.”

The heat of his skin on yours seems to collect in your belly, aching to drop you into a second high. “Lord, I pray that You remove my guilt and wipe away my sins, hng- so that I can draw closer to You.” He moans when you clench around him, pounding your tiny pussy open and watching the way your glistening, slick pussy stretches around his fat cock a bit longer. “With You there is forgiveness so that I can, with reverence, serve You. I praise You for forgiving me for my sins even though I do not deserve it!”

You’re practically choking out the last part when he starts rubbing your oversensitive clit faster, with touches that leave your legs weak. “T-Thank You for -oh, God, thank You for loving me unconditionally, ah, ahng, A-Amen!”

“A little louder, baby, I can’t hear you,” he grabs hold of your face to turn it to the side as your mouth drops open and your tear stricken cheek is pressed to the table. It’s such a good sight to watch you completely destroyed on his cock, panting and shaking like a bitch in heat. You reach back to grab at his thighs for some support. Another flick of his finger makes you squeak.

“A—hng-ah Amen!”

“Where do you think God is now? Is he watching you get fucked right now? Do you think he despises you for being such a dirty slut? Tell me,” he growls. You clench around him so hard it’s almost impossible to pull out, sweat rolling down the valley of your breasts. “Or is he between your legs right now, making you cum like the pitiful bitch you are?” Each word is accentuated with the tilt of his hips. “Where. Is. Your. God?”

“You, you! It’s you!” you cry, before finally cumming with a moan of his name and your fingers digging hard into his skin. You squirm under him as he fucks you through it, before you can feel a few more sloppy thrusts. Hot, white ropes of cum fill you up as you try to catch your breath. “God Forgive me,” you whisper when he pulls out, a mix of both your cum dripping down when you push up.

He stares at your wasted body for a bit longer, before tucking himself back into his underwear. He helps you up from the table onto very shaky legs, leaning into the furniture. “You will be, you worked hard.”

You flush when he eyes you down with a smile, taking back your skirt when he hands it to you. And then he leans down to press a small kiss on your lips, before letting the grin pull wider. “See you on Sunday.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝙿𝙴𝚃𝚄𝙻𝙰𝙽𝚃

he does his very best to give you everything, you know this better than most. so the least you can do is not get jealous. you don’t get jealous… just maybe get a little fussy instead.

.wordc. 4k+ tw (step)daddy, size kink, belly bulge, degradation, hairpulling, spit, jealousy

+

With his teeth in the crook of your neck with his strong arms looped around your -in comparison- tiny body, he pounds his hips up into you until your eyes roll back in your skull. “Needy- fucking- bitch,” the muffled grunts come with each thrust, and all you can do is keep your fingers stuffed into your mouth and holding onto the short hairs at the base of his skull. “Like having a cock too big to stuff your dirty, cockhungry cunt?”

“Yeah, love your— fat cock.” Each wet slap of your pussy being battered by a dick too big for you rings way too loud in the quiet of the otherwise abandoned room, his huge cock going so deep it pushes up against the edge of your poor walls. Your fingers and chin are covered in spit, eyes closed tight and tits bouncing with the motions, unable to even close your legs for a little reprieve. “So deep.”

The bench creaks against the motions. And he rests his forehead onto your shoulder for a moment to hold you down, breathing deeply. “Gonna cum?” His voice so low and gravelly, body radiating heat that leaves you both with sweat rolling down exposed skin. You think you nod in response, but it’s hard to tell when your head’s so cloudy you can’t tell left from right, trying to keep from crying out. “Wanted daddy’s cock so bad you had to beg for it like a whore, so you better.” Then he’s moving again, one hand dropping to your ass to help you along with the ruthless pace he sets in your wet slit.

“C-can’t,” you cry around your fingers when his chest brushes up against your overstimulated nipples, clenching around the heat and dripping all over him. “Wanna -quit, mhm-wan’cum. ‘S too big.” Your thighs strain with the effort to drop yourself at his rhythm, your muscles clenching more each time your clit rubs against the coarse hair around his cock. “So close, daddy!” Your voice, muffled and high pitched, is still no match for the lewd sounds that fill the room and his heavy grunts. You moan at the way his frown digs a little deeper, biting his lip in focus. “Yes, yes, ah-please!” With a few more thrusts, you drop down onto his cock all the way until it pushes against your cervix, and the tight coil in your belly snaps. “Sh- mhm— thankyouthankyou daddy!”

“Fuck,” he hisses, “milk my cock, slut.” Your walls clench around him so hard you see double, pulling your wet fingers out of your mouth to dig them into the hard muscles of his shoulders with a loud string of incoherent begs. And he follows close after, filling your belly with warmth until his thick cum spills out and makes even more of a mess. But he only stops until your body slumps entirely against his chest, so fucked out your toes tingle, and the blood rushing in your head is so loud you can’t hear anything else. He keeps you tight to his hot body, breathing deeply against your sticky skin.

Everything after that moves quicker, sadly. Your head is still pounding a little as he helps you off his lap and onto your feet, wiping your drool off your face and kissing your lips until you manage to lift your arms enough to get your shirt back on. You don’t even know how many minutes pass in silence as he helps you clean up, allowing you the time to come back to earth. “Tired?” he asks, and you nod along, collapsing against his chest with a deep whine.

“I don’t think I want to try walking for at least half an hour.” You stand and watch as he drops his boxers and digs through his bag for his gear, quick to put it all on. Though his grin grows wider the longer you stare at him, you’re not even trying to hide it. Jersey stretching over his wide chest and shoulders, before he tucks himself into fresh boxers and shorts.

“Enjoying yourself?” he chuckles when you bite your lip, nodding cutely. You go to stand onto the bench with a little sigh to motion him over, taking a brief moment to fix his hair as his large hand rests at the small of your back. Pretty hazel eyes watching you with a revering gaze. When you’re done, he clicks his tongue. “Gotta rush out there, pretty thing, I gotta go to warm-ups.” He presses a quick kiss to your pouty lips as he helps your underwear back up your body, but his gaze lingers for a moment too long for you to believe the responsible front he’s putting on. Even if he doesn’t admit it, the way his hands come to paw at your tummy says enough, pushing on it a little until you grab his wrist and squeak.

“Daddy!”

The wet squelch of his cum gushing out of you into the drenched fabric is enough to have heat rising to your face again. “Leaking my cum into those pretty panties?” You fake a frown, but enjoy the way his fingers trail up your body under his shirt. “Hm, that’s too bad.” The little purse of his lips quickly morphs back into a smile when you push his arms away from your body. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he promises, stuffing his bag into the locker. Everyone’s definitely already warming up in the other gym. If anything you’re lucky that they haven’t come around to find their captain yet. “Cheer for me?”

“Of course, daddy,” you say back, eyeing him down a little longer. He really does look too damn unholy in the tight uniform, sending you a last little look that already has your insides warming again.

+

There’s very little that can make you jealous. You’ve won over a lot of obstacles to be with Meian the way you are, and though it’s technically a secret, the gazes his teammates send you when you cheer for your daddy or come around training a bit earlier than you should to watch him are far from unknowing. Of course the large majority of the crowd doesn’t know though, so it’s easy to blend into the cheers of the supporters. In all black and gold, there’s few things you enjoy more than showing off to everyone what you mean to him, jumping and cheering from the stands. You don’t care that they don’t know who you are, or that some of his fans send daggers into your back with their glares.

After all, it’s not for nothing that your skirt shows off the bruises and hickeys on your thighs, his jacket falling way down your body like it could be a dress. The number four on the back also painted on your face as you wave your banner excitedly back and forth. He sends a quick glance back, eyebrows furrowed to look for your face in the mess of people, and grins when he spots you. You wave and smile, letting your heart make a jump when he winks at you, then turning back to the team. This little game between you two is nothing new— hell, most of the players have their own little routines. The first set went by so quickly, and your side of the area is ecstatic, buzzing with excitement.

But as the whistle rings, there’s a distinct murmur right behind you that is harder to ignore by the second. “He winked this way, did you see?” “Who did? Him?” “The Captain, number 4. Meian Shugo.” You really try your best to ignore them, try to watch the game progress below you, but it’s so hard when they seem to be only one of two rows behind you. And loud at that. “At— that girl over there that’s wearing his number, you think? She looks way young.” “I know he got divorced not too long ago, you think that’s his new girl? What a shame.” The longer the conversation continues, the more you have to fight the urge to turn around, tapping your foot on the floor to quell your nerves.

“Ugh, just imagine what a man like that can do,” one of the girls sighs after a while, and even the man to your side turns around to give them a little glare. “What? Are we not allowed to talk?” she hisses, cutting her argument short when the man turns back at the sound of another whistle, the opposing team coming up to serve. They are clearly not here for the enjoyment of the sport, and though you can understand it to a degree, there’s a certain self consciousness that creeps up your spine when they continue, under their breath. “Whatever, even if he has a girlfriend, that doesn’t mean we can’t go say hi after the match. I wanna know what he’s like with a body like that.” “Yeah, same. I’d love to see what’s underneath those shorts. Ride him until he’s out of breath.”

The shrill laugh of the girls is all you can hear through the cheers, clinging a bit harder to the banner in your hands. And it’s so stupid to get jealous, but the way they talk about him hits a part of you that you don’t like giving into. After all, you’re living in the same house as him and currently have his cum soaking into your panties, but no one is allowed to know. And you’re not so sure if that’ll ever change. “If that’s really his girlfriend, I feel bad for him. She looks like she never takes charge in anything, let alone the bedroom.” Her friend snickers. “You’re so right, poor guy.” MSBY suddenly scores a point, knocking you out of your daze when the entire crowd jumps forward in cheers, squishing you to the bannister a little more. And Meian smacks the grey-haired spiker on the back with a smile, before turning back towards the stands to send you another glance.

But the smile you manage to send him is only superficial, fisting your hands into his jersey a bit tighter. The rest of the match continues mostly as normal after, with you ending up waiting patiently outside the changing rooms. And though you know you shouldn’t let it unnerve you, though you know it’s just simple gossip among friends, their words stick to the forefront of your thoughts while he keeps his distance as long as he’s with the team and through the crowd of interviewers until you both get into the car.

You get into the driver as he slumps into the passenger seat, exhausted and ready to get out of the mess of loud people to go home and sleep it off as soon as possible. “Don’t fall asleep yet, daddy, I won’t be able to get you out of the car.” You start the car with a few glances to the side of his face, a tired but contented smile on his lips when you back out of the parking lot and away from the mass of people, an agreeing hum low and calm in between you two for the first time in a few hours. Only then does his large hand find it’s way to your skin again, dropping into your lap to draw soft circles onto the inside of your thigh.

“I missed you, baby.”

“Yeah,” you drop your bottom lip from between your teeth, “missed you too.”

+

When you wake up with a jolt, the first thing you notice is how tight your chest feels. You’re hot all over, slotted against his chest on your side, and judging by how wet you are you’ve been this way for a while. Flushed, and your belly awfully empty. And you’ve learned what happens if you take care of yourself, definitely not in the mood to risk it. So you do the only thing you can do and shift your hips back more, pressing your ass against the bugle in his boxers. No wonder you woke up hot and bothered. “Hmm,” you whine a little when you push back more and rub your covered pussy up and down his center. You can’t help it, you want daddy’s cock more than anything right now.

It doesn’t take long for your motions to shake him awake, definitely when you bring your hand down between your legs to rub up against his half hard cock, grabbing him through the fabric. A deep rumble falls from his chest when you pull the boxers down enough to let his dick out, spitting onto your hand to grab for him. You rub your wet palm over the head of his cock a few times before wrapping your fingers around him— as much as you can at least with the size of it, still rocking your hips back against him and getting more wet by the second. “What d’ya think you’re doin,” he sighs under his breath as he cracks one eye open, grunting at the way you’re rubbing your desperate cunny along the length of him over and over.

“Woke up needing you so bad,” you bring out, just letting your panties get more and more wet the longer you continue. And his cock twitches in between your legs as you work your fingers around, rubbing the precum around all over the pretty head of his cock until he bucks his hips back against you. It presses up against you more the harder you try, tilting your hips to allow him to touch your clit over and over. “Need daddy’s cock inside,” you admit under your breath, shifting away for just a second to rid yourself of the fabric sticking to your pussy. When you’re barely done with that he’s already pulling you back to his body to push his cock between your folds a few times without actually going in. It makes your entire body heated, hairs standing on end and getting more slick by the second. You grab onto his wrist for support in pushing back against him. “Ha-nhg, please-daddy feels so good, so warm.”

You even shift your legs apart best you can to get more friction and access, something that makes him hum. His chest pressed up against your back makes you feel even smaller, packed muscles and strong arms caging you in against him. “You want it so bad, baby?” He shifts onto one elbow behind you to look at your face, how you’re tearing up with the overwhelming heat and need setting your body alight. The hot, leaking head pushes against your hole and pushes in a tiny bit, only to pull back and slap his fat cock against your pussy with a wet ‘pap’ each time. “Wanna have it in here, fill you up, filthy girl?”

“Yes!” you instantly reply, shivering when he uses his free hand to shove your shirt up your body to reveal your tits, rising and falling desperately against the heat. He rubs his thumb over each a few times, then grabbing your tits into his giant hand and squeezing softly. Still teasing the heavy head of his giant cock between your legs while you’re leaving your shiny wetness all over him. Your hips instinctively push back against him when he brings the head back to your hole, trying to lower onto it, only to be stopped by his hand on your hip. You can’t help the whine that comes out at that, still pushing back as much as you can.

“Pleasepleaseplease, daddy!! Ah-ple-hng.” You push his hand back away from your hip and reach between your legs again to push him back up to your dripping pussy again, slowly starting to sink yourself onto him. It never goes easy because he’s just that big, but the stretch of just pushing back on him is enough to have you moaning out, dropping your face into the plush. “Please, want your big -hm- cock. Wanna have daddy ruin me.” He keeps you in place again though, slowly rocking his hips around in circles to stretch you out more, popping back out again and you have to hold the overwhelming urge to kick your feet, instead arching your back and leaning into his hand when he pinches your nipples hard. “J-Fu— Wan’it, wan’it!”

“Oh, the fucking brat knows what she wants?” he mumbles back as he guides himself back between your legs, not holding you down this time. Instead he just grabs onto your thigh as he rolls his hips, your eyes stinging with wetness. “Go ahead then. Got my cocksleeve all needy and worked up and I haven’t even done anything yet.” It’d be easier to ignore his taunting tone if it wasn’t paired with a thrust, shoving another two thick inches into your gushing cunny until you’re crying and shaking on his cock, not sure if you want to get back off or not. The stretch is so painfully good, walls fluttering around the wide intrusion desperately. You roll your hips though, whimpering at the feeling of him spearing you open so wide. It’s not fair. You had him earlier today, but it feels like you’re being stretched for the first time all over again.

“Daddy, please, wanna cream around it, have it break me open please,” you reach back to cling to his forearm, taking a few deep breaths and crying out when it causes his cock to slide even further in. But for as much as you’re struggling, you know that there’s nothing more you want than all of him filling you out. “Need it, ack, d-deep. More, daddy, quickly!” you beg, forcing yourself back and onto him more again, your eyes rolling back in your skull when you arch your back and his cock presses up so good against your gummy, drooling walls. “Please use my holes as you need, ‘s all for you, daddy.” At this point you’re so fed up not being able to take more at once that you pound your little fist onto his thigh a few times and shake your head through your tears, pulling his hand in between your legs. “Put it— mhm-ahh, deeper, please!”

The little request along with the way you roll your hips back on half of his cock like a bitch in heat leaves him stunned, gripping you close by your belly as the hand between your legs rubs messy circles over your clit. “Fuck— What’s got you so fucking desperate?” he hisses when you clench on his cock again, pushing in more at your whimpers. “That feel good?” The way he’s filling you up alone is enough to have your belly tightening like crazy, going crazy at the touches to your puffy nub.

“Yes-hng, yeah, more, moremoremore. Want it all,” you nod, squeezing your own tits and breathing, feeling how he slides in further and further and the messy, quick motions of his two fingers to your clit go even faster. “All of you, ple-ah!” Same time as you try to catch your breath a little, going lightheaded, he bottoms out inside you with a hard thrust, and the coil in your belly pulls so tight you can feel it all the way to your feet. He keeps rubbing, rutting his cock almost in place to stretch you out a little more, but you don’t even get to warn him as your eyes pull closed and your pussy clenches around him like a vice. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck— daddy!” You squirm as your orgasm travels through you, vision spotting black and white and that enormous heat filling your belly.

But you barely take a break to breathe before you’re turning over your shoulder to lean into his collarbones, grabbing onto his shoulder and breathing heavily against his skin. “Daddy’s cock is mine, all mine. Only for me,” you bring out, lifting your leg over his thigh for better access, tears being smushed around your cheeks. He obliges though, pulling out and pushing back inside faster, inside your sensitive cunny with the flushed head of his cock kissing your cervix each time he fills you out.

Your brabbling is barely coherent anymore, sticking so close and rolling your hips as best as you can. “Only belongs inside me. Your pretty cock’s hmh-all mine.” Though you can’t see it though your tears, his lip is pulled between his teeth, pretty eyes focussed on the way your face changes with each thrust, in awe of your words. You’re not normally this mouthy, but the words just keep coming.“‘M gonna take all of your cum like a g-good- girl,” you moan and whine, and he pulls you even closer by your waist to thrust up into you a bit faster. “No one else.”

“Yeah,” he hums, now using his thighs to fuck up into you and to make your tits bounce, the bed banging against the wall with each thrust. He grabs onto your hair to keep your back arched for him and presses a kiss to your wet cheek, moaning. “S’all yours, pretty baby.”

“No one else -ah-can touch your cock or sit on it, okay?” you mumble, mindlessly nodding your head when he grunts your name under his breath, the pace now knocking the air out of your lungs. “Just— your good girl- ah, ah, ah, f-forever! Wanna feel your cock up here until you can’t give any more, daddy!” You manage to bring your hand to your belly to push a little against the bulge that shows each time he bottoms out, balls and hips slapping against you and the wetness of your creamed pussy around his cock filling the room.

“Shit- Look at you being all possessive,” Meian takes a deep breath and brings his hand back between your legs again, cock twitching inside you. Each thrust of his fat cock inside your ruined walls brings you back closer to your high, and the heavy, dirty words he growls when your walls flutter around him. “Little, slutty cunt drooling all over me— fuck, baby, taking me so well. You like feeling daddy’s huge cock filling you up to the brim?”

“Yes, feels so good! So big, hng-good- inside, ah— daddy, daddy!” The heat between your bodies building so hot you can’t think straight. All you know is that you’ve never felt so good, his length driving you open and bulging your belly so perfectly. Your heartbeat is so loud between your ears, neck and back held tight in place and your ass jiggling with his relentless fucking. “Ahng! Ah, ah, ah, always want to cream on your fat cock, no one else gets to. Only me- f-for daddy!” More, tighter, it builds to a peak again like the rhythmic pounding of the headboard into the wall, your cries choked and drool covering your lips, swollen from your consistent biting. “Ah- haaaa, please, wanna cum on your cock again. Gonna—”

“Already?” He brings out a surprised huff, but keeps going and even faster, close as well.

“Mhm! Ah- yes, love your big cock so much, feels -mhm- s’good!” you cry as you’re bounced on his cock all pathetically, squeezing your own tits and nipples for the most amount of stimulation. It’s inevitable when he notices how close you are and rubs your clit even faster again, making your legs shake. “S’g-good, please, wanna c-cum. Don’t stop, don’t stop, wan’ -hmng- d- ah, cumming! Cum—ming-hng -ah, ahng!”

You hit your high even harder than before, vision completely blacking for a few seconds as he helps you through it without hesitating, thrusting your spasming walls open again and again and again. Pushing up against your cervix a few more times with pleasurable pain that leaves your body shaking and pussy creaming around his cock all over again. “Daddy, daddy, daddy!” you mumble out, as he spurts his hot ropes of cum into your pussy, fucking it into you until you’re both twitching from overstimularion.

He lets go of your hair and slumps into you then, keeping you warm in his arms and pulling you close to his sweaty chest. Both of your hearts hammering in different patterns against your rib cages, his cock kept inside you. It’s Meian who catches his breath first, slowly untangling himself from your body to look down at you through narrowed eyes, ever so slowly pulling out of you after all. “Baby,” comes his chastising tone first, and you whine at it, but he’s quick to keep you just as close to press his lips to your jaw. “That was so stupidly hot,” he breathes, “locking around my cock like a fuckin’ vice.” You crack open one eye to watch him inspect you top to bottom, then playing with the edge of the shirt still shoved up above your tits. “What the fuck was that all about?”

But you just give him a lazy grin, and snuggle closer to his chest. “I’ll tell you later, daddy.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙸𝚃

there’s little that daddy wouldn’t do for you. even when you call him up in the middle of the night to be picked up. especially then. because the night is dark and full of beasts, and only one of them has your best interest at heart.

.wordc. 4k+ tw (step)daddy meian, size kink, blood & body horror (consensual)

+

The giant hand wrapped around yours is warm enough to have your whole arm filled with the heat, walking along the pavement with quick, stumbling feet to try and match his. His steps are heavy in front of you, though he can’t really help it with a stature that noticeable.

There’s no way in which Meian Shugo exists alongside you and you don’t notice him, of course, but the gentle way his fingers are wrapped around yours helps remind you that it’s more than taking notice for you. You look up to him, look up to the way he maneuvers through the bunch of drunk students without having to say a word, and the way people seem to part for him with respect and awe. It’s easy to fall into that same awe, but the soft swell of warmth under your ribs says otherwise. Adoration would be better.

The crunch of pebbles under his feet seems so loud when you get away from the main streets into a calmer few, and you swallow. “Daddy.” When he doesn’t react, let alone turn to you, the cold goosebumps rise up onto your skin. You lift your shoulders a little to snuggle into the huge jacket put over your shoulders, enjoying the way you seem to disappear into it as you’re dragged around. The steps aren’t as hasty anymore. The rhythmic click of your heels on the pavement is comforting in a way, because with each step away from the bar, you know you’re one step closer to home, and therefore, him.

“Daddy, are we almost there? My feet hurt,” you admit, pouting as you look down. Everything is still a tad bit wobbly, but you feel much better now that you’ve gotten out of that club and into the fresh air. Warmth of his jacket that you breathe in and linger in, adoring the dark, manly scent of his cologne. It’s a smell that only his apartment in the city really has. At home it’s still mixed in with cut grass and fresh laundry and the sweet, flowery perfume of your mom, and the combination of it smells like comfort, like familiarity. But Meian alone— your Meian, your mind stubbornly adds even though you know it to be in the wrong, smells like some other beast entirely.

And that’s what it is, isn’t it? Beastly. The way he entered your life, vicious and with sharp teeth to claw his way to the surface, he’d fought for it, and he’d won. And in winning a place in your home, you guess, he won a place in your heart too. Sometimes, when no one else is looking, you notice the way his gaze falls to you. Dark and greedy, slipping over your skin like it was meant to be there from the start. But then you look over, and all you see is the gentle smile he sends you before you go to bed. Before you kiss him goodnight and his hand always comes to rest so gently on your hip. ‘Goodnight, munchkin,’ he mumbles then, letting you go just as quickly. But his touch always seems burned into your flesh, like an invisible hunger for more.

He hasn’t said it yet, tonight. Because daddy is mad at you. It’s easy to tell in the way his wide shoulders are a tad more tense, even though his grip always remains gentle. You don’t think he has it in him to be anything but, fragile as he seems to think you are. Fragile as you become when around him. You pout, fighting a yawn through the words. Because even though you know all this, and you know that he has the right to be mad— be worried most likely, your feet really hurt. A whine falls from your throat before you know it, eyes on his heavy steps when you cross one street. The flare of the streetlights or the shots you downed, one of the two, make little, glistening tears well up as you speak. “Daddy, can you please carry me? My feet really hurt and I’m so tired.”

At that he sighs, and stops. It takes a whole while for him to turn around for you, shoulders rising and falling with forced breaths. And when he does, you kinda wish you hadn’t asked. The pretty eyes you’ve grown so attached to are narrowed, bright colour blown out an inky black. “How much did you drink?” is the first line out of his mouth, and when you open your mouth to answer, “does your mother know you’re over here?” Your lashes flutter, lips pulling down. No, she doesn’t know. She can’t know, because you two fought about it just two days ago. She said that you wouldn’t miss any classes for that ‘shit’, to which you had snapped that ‘you will go cheer for daddy, like she never did’.

It’d made her cry. You’d know it was nasty to say aloud as soon as it fell out, but that didn’t make it any less true. The harsh look doesn’t go, and you sniffle. “I just wanted to be here to support you for your game. Don’t tell mom, please.” There’s a little tick in his brow as he pauses to think it over, shaking his head. It’s not easy. Their split wasn’t easy, and neither was the idea of saying goodbye. So you never did, still visiting daddy as often as you can. You know your mom hates it, she hates the idea of you spending time with him. In the silence of the street, with the gentle rustling of the grassy patch next to the pavement, it’s easy to know why. You love Meian. A lot— too much. And maybe she suspects it just like you do, that he loves you too much too.

His thumb caresses your knuckles where your hand still hangs in his, before he gives a little move to motion you closer. “Your mom would kill me if she were to find out you’ve been here without her permission,” his voice is even lower than normal, you did end up calling him out of bed for this, “and even more that you went to the city alone and I had to take you back.” You mouth a soft apology, to which he chuckles, a frustrated line digging between his brows. But he turns and bends down for you, looking over his shoulder. “Come on, we’re almost there.” You have to jump to get onto his back, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders as his hands come to rest onto your exposed thighs. He starts walking again, and the gentle sway of the motions and his deep breathing has you resting your cheek against his throat, chin on his shoulder.

He’s so much warmer than you. You pull the huge jacket a bit closer and try your best to cover his exposed arms too. He only holds you a bit tighter, until you get to the car and he places you too easily into the passenger seat. When you wake up again, it’s because he’s shifting you aside on one arm to put the keys into lock, pushing open the door and flicking on a lonely light. You yawn, nuzzling a bit closer into his chest. He’s just so big, and so easy to cling to. He chuckles against your cheek, and then tosses the keys onto the table to put you down on the floor. Which you whine at too loudly, trying to cling to his arm and his warmth a little longer. “I have practice in the morning, come on,” he mumbles, attempting to shoo you toward the couch.

“You’re going to drink some water and go to bed.” You hold a yawn when plopping down onto the soft cushion, and watch as he takes out a glass, fills it, grabs one of the vitamins for you to suck on. Still going through the routine so easily. When he still lived with you, he was always the one to pick your side. In some ways he probably had to, since he was the one letting you and your drunk giggles in. But he was there for you. “You take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch,” he starts, handing you the glass to sit down next to you with a deep sigh. The couch pulls entirely into a dip with his weight, and he stretches himself out over the back of the couch to place his hands behind his head.

“Why did you and mom get a divorce?” you suddenly ask, staring at the water as you hold it in your lap. His eyes on the side of your face, though you don’t turn. You just bite your lip. “You never actually told me. And mom still gets all weird about it.” It’s quiet for a long time while you take little sips of your water, until your tummy feels full and you put it away. When you turn, his pretty eyes are on you. You’re not sure they ever left your face at all. But he has an unreadable expression on his face, shoulders dropping.

“We… your mom and I,” he tries, running those long, thick fingers through his dark hair, “had a lot of arguments. We fought over a lot of stuff, we fought over you.” The last is paired with a grimace, his eyes shifting instead to the light above the kitchen sink. It’s the only thing that gives you enough light to see him right now. After a little break, he gently shakes his head. “Your mom was worried for you. And — jealous of you. She thought I was doing things to you behind her back…” His eyes come to meet yours again, but this time you think they break you open. Because there’s no guilt there. No shame you’d expect with those words. Just a hunger that sets you alight.

“But you weren’t,” you mumble, unsure of what to say yourself. His large hand comes to rest on your knee, but you can’t look away. The touch is scalding, burning through your veins like poison. “Daddy,” you whisper, growing even softer when the circled touches slowly go a bit higher up the inside of your thigh. “I want to stay with you still.” The fingers go a bit higher again, your belly tensing as you keep his gaze, though you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. “Even if mom was right, I want you to— ah,” you whimper when he scoots you a little closer with his hands hooked under your knees, leaning into you. “I want to cheer for you no matter what mom thinks. Because I love you, daddy.”

The more he leans in, the colder you feel. Your skin is made of goosebumps by the time his huge body is hovered over you, both hands ghosting over your thighs. “Do you know what your mother thought we did, princess?” the whisper is so close to you, his face slowly moving to hover his lips over your ear. You can feel each breath against your neck, making your heart pound violently against your ribcage. You shut your eyes. When you don’t answer, his hands slide even higher, squeezing your thighs in his hands as he brings his face to yours. “She thought I touched you, like this.” The gentle kneading going higher and higher until suddenly his fingers are brushing up against your panties, hands under your skirt.

When you whimper, he rubs one thumb over your panties, gently up and down. And somewhere in the back of your mind you know it’s wrong, but your cunny slicks at the thought. Daddy’s touching you, daddy wants you. Your breaths are shallow and soft. “No, never,” you manage to mumble, and he rubs a bit harder, making you moan. “But I want daddy to… touch me more.” For a few more antagonizing breaths, he hovers there. Until you finally meet his dark gaze, and melt into his touch, his hands. “Please.” You lean the last sliver of distance to press a peck to his lips, and another. Which seems enough to have his walls breaking, because instantly he scoops you up into his lap and wraps his arms around you, kissing you properly.

His mouth opens yours easily, tongue meeting tongue and groans loud in the dead of night. He tastes so good, hands reaching up to grab at the short hairs at the base of his skull, settling in his lap. You whine into his mouth when you feel his cock, hardening under you. Legs spread wide over his thighs, you roll yourself onto his crotch as he takes your mouth as his own and shoves his tongue down your throat until you turn dizzy. He’s so warm, breaths so much steadier than yours. You arch your back to press your chest against his, tugging at the hair desperately for air. When you break away, a thread of spit between your mouths breaks that he wipes with his thumb. And you can’t help yourself from pressing your panty-clad pussy against him, rolling your hips so eagerly. “I can feel you through your pants.”

“Yeah? How does it feel?” he nods, lips twitching when you moan again.

“Good, feels good,” you nod, leaning in again to kiss him more. And now that you’ve started, it feels like you’ll never have enough. The way you move your lips together and you’re able to melt into him entirely is exhilarating. Meian bucks his hips when you suck on the tip of his tongue with little whimpers, before he pulls away to pet at the little bow of your panties. “Daddy’s so big,” you whisper, eyelids fluttering.

He smiles as he pulls the fabric away from your skin and aside, revealing your needy cunny. You’re still in his huge jacket, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. “Look at my needy, little baby girl.” Two thick fingers prod between your two bodies to rub into the wetness, all the while you hump his clothed cock. It’s impossible not to, it’s so big and feels so good between your legs, touching your clit. You drop your forehead to his chest, and open your legs a little wider to give him more access. But he moves your slick around with slow motions, one hand holding your hip still when you try to move again. “This wet for your daddy, and I haven’t even done anything yet?” One of his fingers slowly pushes into your needy cunny, and you can’t help but gasp. It feels like two of your own, and instantly goes so much deeper than you can. “Did you think about this before?” he coos, and your cheeks grow warm under his inquisitive eyes.

Of course you did. It’s kind of crazy to admit it to yourself, but you’d spent too many nights thinking about him with your hand buried between your legs. Sometimes even hoping he would find out. As he moves his finger in and out of you and curls it into you, you start littering love all over his neck, open mouthed kisses as his touches make you tingly with want. “Did you touch yourself to me?” he asks before slowly adding another finger, stretching your tiny slit open. Your pussy is slicking all over the bulge in his pants, unable to help it. You suck onto the dip of his neck as you rub your center over his, cock still hardening in his pants. But you hum in agreement and nod, whining as he stuffs his finger in again with perfect precision.

And he smiles, whispering as he kisses your temple. “I did too. Thought about you every time I fucked my hand. How good you’d feel around me, touching me.” The confessions make your brain hurt, you just busy yourself shoving up his shirt to access his perfect body. And it is truly perfect, as to be expected from a professional top-athlete. Your hands are quick to explore the new expanse, and your lips too. While he spreads open your walls with his fingers, your hips stilling to give him better access. “Sometimes I thought about calling you when I was alone in the hotel for away games.” You latch your mouth around his one nipple to suck at the little nub, then switch to the other. “Ah— fuck, baby.”

“Want you,” you admit, your tiny slit clenching around two of his fingers so desperately already. You straighten up to kiss him again, and wrap your arms around his strong, wide shoulders. “Please let me have your cock already, daddy.” His fingers curl with another few pumps, hitting your spot just right, before you try to push at his hand. You’ve waited much too long to drag it out now. “I need to feel you inside me.” Meian holds still for a second to seemingly think it over, but you both know how much you want this. How much you’ve wanted this for too long. ‘Okay,’ he mouths after a sign, before pulling out his fingers and cleaning them off with his tongue. Then he takes your top and pulls it over your head, unclasping your bra with one hand and leaning you back on his lap a little.

It’s only when his mouth comes onto your nipples, rubbing his tongue over them as you grind your wet cunny against the damp patch in his sweats, that you really realize daddy’s going to fuck you. Right here, on the couch. And that he’s huge. His entire body covers you, shoulders, thighs, torso and bottom half. He sucks until you can’t help but moan, head dropping back and fingers tangling in the base of his hair again. “Daddy, please—” you beg this time, because if you keep rubbing your sensitive clit on the clothed head of his cock like this, you’ll come around nothing at all.

“You want it that bad?” he asks, eyes glinting under thick lashes when he pulls away from your tits to motion you upwards. “You’re just so fucking hungry for my cock, huh?” He slides down his sweatpants inch by inch, and you watch as the huge bulge is revealed, twitching. You whimper. He’s so big, thick and veiny and flushed a pretty pink at the tip. You reach between you two to grab him by the base, taking a deep breath. And his hand comes back in between your legs to rub circles on your clit, going a finishing pace already. Your belly tightens as you moan. “Your hand looks tiny compared to my cock, baby,” he says then, moving his mouth back to your tits. His free hand also moves to knead your doughy ass in his hand. “Are you sure you can take daddy?”

“Yes please,” you instantly bob your head a bit too wild, loving the heat that comes from him as you stroke him. The flushed head drools eagerly while you do your best to move your hands up and down his cock, shivering at the thought of it inside. Your puffy clit still being rubbed hard and fast, building your high quickly. Your little cunny is definitely wet and hot enough to take him by now, and you feel like you’re burning through any doubt quicker than you can blink. The smoldering feeling of warmth that comes from his thighs, his chest, everything— you want it. When he pushes his lips back to yours, you beg into his kiss. “I want to try, daddy. Please help me sit onto your fat cock, want it stretching me out. Please, please.”

You move his fat head against your wet pussy and slide it between your legs already, whining when he reaches up to take a fistful of hair and pull your head back. “My baby girl is a fucking slut, huh? Can’t even wait for me to prep you properly?” He loosens up the grip tough, looking between your bodies with his lip between his teeth. “Fuck, daddy’s going to ruin that little cunny for everyone else. That’s alright though, isn’t it?” He pulls your body a bit closer, smiling when your tits rub against his chest and make your mouth drop open. “Gonna let me destroy you?”

Your agreement comes so easily, just wanting to be filled already. You’re already wound so tight, you can barely think. “Yes, yesyesyesyes, ruin my cunny. I want it to be only yours.” With that he lines up better, one hand supporting your hips.

“Sit on it,” he says, and you do. The first push is impossible, like you’re trying to push the wrong end of a puzzle piece in. But he keeps rubbing your clit so perfectly over and over again, whispering softly into your jaw. “Breathe, let daddy in.” You do, and with some more rubbing and your slick being spread onto his massive cock, you slide down a bit of it. The stretch is so wide, he’s so huge. It feels like you’re being fucked for the first time again, barely sliding down at all with each breath. But you want daddy to feel good. “Want me to help you?” he asks, and you instantly nod. So he pushes you down onto him more, kissing your neck while you tear up and cry at the stretch of being split in two by daddy’s cock.

When you finally sit down into his lap, you’re unable to think coherent thoughts. You lean into his chest and cling onto his shoulders, nail digging deep into the tan skin where he keeps you for a second. It feels like he’s fucking you so deep it hits your lungs. “You okay, princess?” he asks, tilting your pretty, ruined face back. Your eyes closed and cheeks marked with lines of tears, your whole body trembling from the strain of not sinking down any lower. You’re spread so wide on his cock it looks like it’ll come breaking through your skin if he thrusts too hard. But when he presses his lips to yours again, coaching you closer to him with gentle shifts, you whimper.

“Yeah, wan’ daddy to fuck me,” you mumble, tears glistening between your lashes. “God, I’m gonna break. Gon’ rip in two, daddy.” Your little breaths are so fucking cute. He can’t help but smile when he lifts you from his lap a little and you let out a string of whines, nails digging deeper.

“You’re doing so well, baby girl,” the brunet nods, slowly bringing you down again. Your pussy aches through every second of it, as your eyes flutter open. You can see the head of his cock through your stomach as he slides it all the way back in, groaning. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Can’t believe I get to fit in this cunt. You’re tiny, baby.” You nod and whine, hanging your face down to watch. Any more and you’d break, you’re sure of it. So when he grabs better hold of you to raise your hips again, you bite your lip, hard. “Gonna fuck you so well, ruin this sloppy cunt for anyone but me,” he hisses, pushing you down onto his cock with one smooth thrust.

“Daddy, daddy, I’m so close,” you think you say. And you whimper out for him again at the pounding that is the head of his cock against your cervix, but you can just cling on and watch as he drops your body down on him. Again and again and again, even when your slick starts going pink from blood, Meian fucks your tiny slit open. “Fuck, fuck— ah, please make me cum around you. Please, please— love daddy’s cock. Love you, daddy.” He grabs you into a hug and holds you still while pushing his hips into your ruined, sloppy pussy, speeding up the tempo until he’s able to use you as a human fleshlight, just pistoning in and out of your body without mercy.

The loud, wet pap of his skin to yours with each thrust is all you can hear, and your pounding heartbeat between your ears. It feels so good you feel like it blurs your vision. You don’t care about anything else. “Love you too, baby girl,” he presses a kiss to your temple and drops his hand between your bodies again, rubbing your overstimulated, desperate clit a few more times. Until your battered cunny tries and fails desperately to clench around his massive cock, your orgasm washing over you so hard your thighs cramp. But daddy doesn’t stop for a second.

“That’s it, pretty baby. That’s one. Let me give you another, okay?” he coos, and you can only nod a vague agreement as you’re still rutted into, the head of his cock ramming up against your walls again and again. You don’t feel the pain. You just know everything feels good. “As a thank you for taking daddy’s fat cock so well.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝚂𝙴𝚃

this is entirely self indulgent bc i dreamed this and needed to get it out of my brain. the cervix killer doms will now take up all of my brain power for the next four business weeks thank you (i really wanted to add romero and sokolov in there as well but i don’t know them that well so maybe in the future! they’re also cervix killers tho hmmmm)

.wordc. 2k+ (i tried so hard to keep it shorter than normal djshjnfks) tw gangbang, free use, anal, cockwarming, daddy, size kink, spit, age gap (meian’s pretty, young girlfriend being used ♡ the dream)

+

When you’re rocked awake, it’s because soft kisses are trailed down the expanse of your neck, your body feeling tight and heated already. It takes a few moments to come to, blinking your sleep-filled eyes against the light peeking through the curtain. “Mornin’,” a voice comes, a deep rumble that is breathed into your hair and trembles through your body with how close he’s pressed to your back. “My pretty baby,” he chuckles when a soft whine falls from your throat, then followed by a choked gasp when you remember the state he left you in when falling asleep.

Cock still hard inside you, your hole fluttering around it as he shifts his hips. “Ah, daddy—,” you whimper, sleep leaving your body much quicker when you realize how wet you are, “did you -hm, even sleep?” Your squeaked voice makes him laugh, pulling your smaller body back into his and tangling his long legs with yours. Every shift pulls a noise from your mouth though, because though you’ve taken his cock plenty of times before, it’s still a massive stretch to take him.

“Mhm. Woke up an hour ago tho.” Your cheeks heat up when he presses a kiss to your cheek, before suddenly grabbing onto your waist and shoulders. Before you can ask, not that you’re awake enough to say much of use anyway, he rolls the both of you over so he’s laying on his back and you whine at the teasing shift of his hips. “Gotta wake up, baby girl, m’gonna have to leave for practice in a bit.” He keeps your back on his chest as he motions his hand towards your thigh, and you whimper when lifting your knees towards your chest.

He grabs them for you and keeps them against your chest, before letting out a deep breath. “Such a good girl for me,” the affectionate words are pressed to your cheek, before he holds your hips in place to pull back out of your clenching hole so slowly. “Want daddy to fuck you like this?” he asks, and you close your eyes when nodding, trying not to tense up when the head of his cock is the only thing remaining inside you. You’re glad for the lube still covering your ass from last night, since it lets him slide right back in with minimal effort, filling out entirely and making your head tilt back with a hiss.

“Hmng- oh,” you gasp, grabbing your own tits to focus on the pleasure of the stretch even more as he pulls out and pistons back in so good, grunting. “Love your cock, daddy, love it- s-so much, feels so good.” He hums as he bottoms out faster, keeping you down against his thrusts as your tits bounce each time his cock fills you. You rub your own nipples to distract from the way your needy pussy clenches around nothing, but it still feels so good. Driving his fat cock into your ass and breathing praises into your ear, you almost forget when you hear the click of the door to the room next door, eyes shooting open.

Towel swung around his shoulders and face and chest still a bit flushed from the hot water, he pauses when glancing at the bed. You must look pretty pathetic right now, in all fairness. Hair a mess and holding onto yourself as Meian doesn’t stop fucking into you for a second, the wet slaps of skin meeting skin almost enough to cover the way you whimper with each thurst. But then Oliver cracks a smile, and closes the door to his hotel room. “Good morning,” he says, bending a little as he walks through the room to your bed. “In a hurry? We still have plenty of time.” He leans down to press a chase kiss on your lips, and when you pout, another one.

Meian grunts as he rolls over now, leaving you back on your side but facing the other man who kneels next to the bed, using the arm he’s resting on to reach over and grab hold of your throat. “Not -oh hmng fuck- in a hurry, just wanting her real bad,” he responds quickly, leaning onto his elbow to watch his teammate. “The rest?” he asks, ignoring the way you arch your back and open your mouth with little gasps, tears creeping up at the corners of your eyes.

“They’re on their way.” Barnes smiles when you whine at that, air constricted and blood rushing between your ears from the pressure, but still needing more. He slips his boxers down his thighs and drops the towel in the same spot on the floor before getting onto the bed with you, trying to give you some room despite the lack of space with two giant men on the bed. The poor queen size shakes, narrowly missing the wall each time Shugo fucks up into you like this. Your pussy dripping around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Daddy, daddy, m’close, please,” you whisper through a squeezed throat, trying to turn over your shoulder for a kiss. He can’t give it though, focused on the way your tiny hole stretches to take the thick length sliding in and out, glistening because of the lube. He lets go of your leg to spank your ass instead, as you whine and cry when the familiar surge of pain comes through you.

“You know to use your words.” Another one comes down on the same spot, before he kneads the tender skin to soothe it a little.

“Oh- f-fuck. Fuck, fuck, ahh- daddy,” you cry when he kisses along the side of your neck, biting there and making you shake, blinking against the tears as you drop your face back to the mattress to hide into it, “can you please touch me. M’gonna cum. Can I cum, pretty -hm- p-please?”

His hand quickly finds your clit, circling around it a few times to collect the slick onto his fingers, then rubbing back and forward over the puffy bud just right. You pinch your nipples as you shift, legs clenching and belly pulling so tight, as you’re bounced on his cock without slowing. “Oh- f—fuck, cumming! Daddy, thank you thankyouthankyou! Mhm- so good,” your squeezed voice comes. Your orgasm hits hard, leaving you twitching in his hold and knocking the air out of you. You see back dots before you shut your eyes tight, being fucked through the pleasure until the relentless rubbing of your sensitive clit starts hurting.

“Ah -aah, enough, daddy. Enough, please!” you try to cry against his hand, still tight around your neck.

But he keeps going until you feel him shudder, chasing his own orgasm without slowing his ruthless thrusts, pulling you even closer to his sweat-covered chest. And the overstimulation is worth it to hear his voice. “So —fucking tight, pretty girl,” he grunts, and another pump has him shooting ropes of hot, white cum into your ass as he fucks through it, finally letting go of the tight hold on your neck. Blood rushes back to your brain as you clench around him to milk the last of his cum into your spent body, before he stills behind you with a deep sigh. “Shit, baby, you’re squeezing my cock so tight.”

Oliver sits against the headboard, and reaches over his palm towards your face for a moment, as you try your best to stay coherent at all. “Spit,” he says and you hum softly at his order. As the man behind you kneads the soft skin of your thighs and trails his fingers in between your legs again already, you focus enough to open your mouth as your spit drips into his palm. He spits into his hand too, before wrapping it around his huge cock and moving it up and down so slow. So close, bead of precum going down the length of it and looking so tasty. And the thought alone is enough to have your walls tightening.

Your boyfriend groans when pulling out, before slowly helping you sit up onto the bed and gently tapping your cheek. “Good, doll?” When you let out a little hum, blinking and looking around the room, he blows out a warm laugh, pressing a few kisses to your shoulders.

You don’t react when the door is opened this time, Adriah’s face is still marred with sleep and his hair sticking out in weird directions. He too bends a little when walking through the entrance and dragging his feet over to the bed. He’s the only one who seems to not be a morning person, and you can’t help but relate.

“G’morning captain,” he croaks when coming to a halt next to the queen size, rubbing his eye a few times with the back of his hand. “When do we have practice?”

“All of us have to be in the gym in an hour or so,” an already awake and washed Fukuro cuts in as he walks through the door too, locking it behind himself and smiling a little at the sight splayed out in the room. You whine when Meian shifts to make more space, no longer pressing the entirety of his warmth into you and therefore leaving you empty and with goosebumps rising. “You look wide awake today,” the other captain jokes though, getting half a glare from you as you roll over onto your belly and drop your face into the dense mattress.

“Just do it, m’too tired to,” you huff into the plush, and you can hear Adriah mumble an agreement as he takes the spot next to Meian on the bed, running a hand up the length of your thigh until he reaches your dripping pussy and slides two long fingers in, shifting onto his hand and knees to nose at the curve of your ass.

“Me too,” he mumbles, and you almost feel bad. But then he jerks his curled fingers into you with a sigh, and your entire body jerks at the feeling. Meian laughs when you hiss and pull your face from the plush to rest it against his thigh instead, eyelids fluttering. Your little noises are soft compared to the lewd squelching of your pussy on Adriah’s fingers, mouth leaving a few marks on the soft skin of your ass before he bites through a yawn when pulling back. “Who’s turn is it?”

You shiver when the long fingers pull back out to slip lower, overstimulated clit being flicked again. Your mouth opens in a soundless cry, but your boyfriend just laughs it off. He knows how much you can take better than you do after all, and apparently you’re not quite there yet. “Oliver got here first,” Meian breathes when smiling down at you, brushing a hand over your hair. “So he can go first.” Then he gently lifts your chin for you so your face is aimed up towards him despite the effort it takes, and bites his lip. “Daddy’s gonna fuck your face right after everyone’s had a taste, okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod, smiling when he thumbs away your tears, “wanna be good for daddy and his friends.” You’re urged up onto your knees by Oliver and Adriah’s large hands, face still down into the bed, thighs urged apart with easy motions. It’s just so easy to fall into trusting all of them, being so much bigger and more experienced. Back pushed down by someone’s warm palm, you shake your hips a little as you feel someone settle in between them. “Want to make you all -ah, hmm, feel g-good,” you sniffle when Meian moves off the bed and the other men crowd closer, Oliver fucking his large cock into his fist before resting the warm head against your slit.

“You’ve yet to disappoint, princess.” Fukuro laughs when you try to push back on the thick length between your legs already, always too greedy to be stuffed overfull with cock like you haven’t been fucked for months. But it’s also what he likes about you so much, and how this even became a regular occurence in the first place. Meian’s pretty, cockhungry baby girl getting her pussy pounded by half the team.

As the last to have stripped down and dip the bed, you strain to turn your head towards the brunet when he speaks. “While your daddy goes to take a shower and gets hard for you again, think you can take my cock into that pretty mouth?” He brushes his thumb over your lips for a second, waiting for a reply. And when you blink up at him and nod, mouthing a ‘Yes sir,’ so sweetly, he pushes his thumb between your lips, grunting when you instantly start sucking on it.

He nods. “Hm. Such an obedient cocksleeve. You really are too cute.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝚂𝙷𝙷𝙷

daisho suguru is not possessive, but nekoma’s manager is his and only his

.wordc. 1k+ .note. this kinda cute, but i have this darker thing that i dreamed of and ಠ_ರೃ tell me yall wanna read it bc i really feel like writing it too tw daddy, jealousy, my spit kink making an appearance again

+

The sweat is still dripping off the players, their jerseys drenched and expressions tired. After you’ve given everyone their water and towels, you eye your team carefully. It’s only a practice match, but their expressions are almost as grim as they would be losing an actual tournament. You bite your lip, glancing through the net once. Sharp, green eyes meet yours. Trailing down your body like they belong there, they seem to glitter under the artificial lights. Kuroo clicks his tongue, you hear it only just before his hand is wrapped around your wrist and is pulling you towards the correct side of the net.

The right side, the one with your team. It should be easy by now, but more now than ever you seem to breathe life into the saying that ‘old habits die hard’. The captain puts his hands on your shoulders, his dark hair still as fluffy and uncontrollable as ever.

“I can’t stand losing to them,” he admits, like it’s a secret you’ve not known for years now. Kuroo is much easier to read now you’ve long figured out all his ticks and tells. “And the fact that Daisho keeps gawking at you like a piece of meat doesn’t sit well with me either.” He sighs, before his golden eyes find yours with an intensity you’re not used to. “Are you sure you’re alright? Because if he’s being too— him, I can call this off right now and we’ll be on the bus home in a flash.”

It’s a sweet thought. But he doesn’t know, he has yet to figure it out and so you shake your head instantly. “I’m good, Kuroo, really. You’ll most likely have to play them at some point before nationals so any practice is good practice. And I’m not bothered, I can more than handle Daisho.” The noiret glances over his shoulder once more, before rubbing his towel over his face a few times and tossing it onto the bench.

“Alright, guys, we’re playing another two sets! Get back on the court!” He doesn’t turn to you again, but adds a last comment under his breath. “I- Just- Don’t let him psych you out, please.”

///

The sweat is dripping off you too. You’re dark, in darkness and still everything is too shining to process. Something shimmers, it catches your attention for a moment until you notice it’s just the golden piercings that line his ear. And in that darkness, a flicker of light, white-hot like the sun when it reflects on the ocean. You sigh, mouth opening to let it pass, though not as a tired thing. It comes from within the depths of your soul, captures you and lays you out to dry in the sun. Lips, dragging down the expanse of your neck. Warm, so warm, his chest molded to yours and in the aftermath of his exertion he’s still stronger than ever. He bites down on the tender part lacing your neck to your shoulder, giggling softly against your skin. “Say it again,” he whispers.

“Ah, Suguru, don’t bite,” you whisper, pulling at the hair that is held between your fingers, “you’ll leave marks again.”

He grunts against your skin, clearly not inclined to listen. One of his hands slipping under the elastic of your panties, he toys with them for a second before dragging them down to your knees. You let them drop to the floor. His lips come to play at your collarbones, before he pushes you down into his lap more with his other hand.

“I said; say it again. Unless you want me to drag you out there on your knees and have everyone see how well you suck my cock. I can do that too.” You hiss when he moves his mouth down more to bite at the soft skin of your tits. You shouldn’t like it so much when he uses your weaknesses against you. But clearly you do, because his fingers covered in your slick make easy rounds before pushing in.

“Agh,” you rest your forehead against the slope of his neck, letting the cooler metal of his necklace be the thing that grounds you. “I— I said that this cunnie is daddy’s property and that everything I do is to please daddy.” His fingers scissor you apart, the stretch just right. With both fingers moving in and out at a pace that could drive even the most sane crazy, he spreads his thighs more, so your legs are wide open for him. He chuckles at your noises, motioning you to tilt your head back.

“That’s right.” He plants a few kisses on your sensitive throat, before pulling out his fingers to slip them between his lips. You’re already working on the drawstrings of his shorts, too impatient to drag this out any longer than necessary. “And the next time our good friend Tetsuro seems to have a problem with that, I’ll fuck you in front of him until you’re creaming around my cock and begging to stop.” You know you’ll make the bus wait this way, but the print of his cock against those damn shorts is enough to drive you crazy. Daisho chooses to take your heavy silence as agreement, and helps you to slide them down before pulling your attention right back to his face.

He grabs your jaw to pause you in place, as you whimper in anticipation. “You like that, huh?” He slides the glistening head of his thick cock between your legs a few times, pulling back just short every time. You bite your lip and dig your nails into his back barely, enough to make him smirk at your frustration though. “Or are you just this needy because I mentioned that obnoxious chicken?” You use your other hand to reach below you, positioning yourself over him. He pulls your hair harder in retaliation to your disobedience, but moves in to kiss you anyway. You know him well enough to know that his patience is not endless either.

When he pulls away you put out your tongue for him, and he spits onto it before pushing his thumb into the mess. It drips down your tongue and onto your chest. “I can’t think about anyone else when I’ve got your cock right there,” you say. He rolls his hips into yours again, and suddenly you decide you’re fed up with any prep you might need. You can go home sore. “Daddy, fill me,” you bite out, resting your forehead on his pulse again and lowering yourself onto him. It’s a very tight fit, you can feel him inching inside you with every laboured breath.

When you’re seated in his lap with a huff, he grabs hold of your knees to pull them up so he can look between your bodies at the way your dripping pussy takes his cock so well. You always do. “Let’s see how long we can go for before Kuroo comes looking for you, princess.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴

it’s with little things that futakuchi shines, it’s with little things that he breaks your heart. but with one single word he breaks open the skies and douses you in snow, and maybe that’s good enough. ✧ collab masterlist ✧ go support the amazing creators there!!

massive thank you to @/tsumue for beta reading!! ily

.wordc. 8k+ fake dating!au, smut, angst

tw semi-public, thigh riding, fingering, daddy kink, but it’s sappy and sweet

+

It isn’t like summer came and left without consequences before. In the excitement of the warm weather, it wasn’t too uncommon to come back with a broken bone or a new scar, laugh about it and boys and silly trips over iced tea with friends. It wasn’t like summer was ever easy to swallow. It had always been violent and murky, thick with the overwhelming fervor of something that felt like it was over too soon.

Your last summers had been that way each time, coming back down to earth only to realize that the marks branded to your skin by clumsy friends or the excuse of love were never quite as pretty as you thought them to be in the orange evening light. You don’t really know why you’re surprised at the consequences again now, but you do know that this time— they genuinely scare you. The light here is low and murky, casting washed out versions of peach and yellow on your white, body-tight dress. Catching on the jewelry that dangles between your collarbones and bobs gently with the breaths you take.

The waves roll close underneath you, almost licking at the edges of the balcony from this angle, like jealous, grabby hands. You sigh, then take another sip of the expensive liquor that was pushed into your hands earlier. It hadn’t always been as flat and colourless, but the bubbles have long escaped. The slide of the door sets your hairs on end, but you don’t move, and you don’t drop your frown. In this way you prove that he is not above consequence either, at least to yourself. At least to the ocean as it looks on with sad eyes at the comedy playing out before it.

His weight feels heavy when he drops onto the metal seat next to you, a soft groan coming from his throat as he does. You still think you adore the sound, always curious as to how he looks when it comes. Sometimes with a pout, when he begs for excessive praise. He does it winding down from conversations, because Kenji is well-spoken only when the situation absolutely requires it. It’s one of the things that never fails to make you laugh. Sometimes, he groans with his arms around your waist and his chin on your head, asking you to come to bed. And as with everything else these last, stupid few months, you turn to him this time too.

In the little refuge away from the violent swell of summer, he looks restless. The soft, clipped way his hair exposes his handsome face for the world to smother; you like teasing him with it. Just briefly, to watch the slight curl to his lips when he spells out how much ‘you love it’. Inquisitive, hazel eyes that seem to unfold the world in front of him two steps at a time. He doesn’t move to take notice of you for a while, with the loud roll of the waves under you and the soft chatter in the background. For a longer while you don’t notice you’re staring either. Until you’ve counted every rise of his chest to a hundred. But it’s always been so easy to get lost in him, because even in the cold, depressing fall of the last day of summer, he’s beautiful.

“Didn’t think you still ran away from confrontation.” Your breathing slows when the breeze ruffles your dress and his dress shirt. “Just come to me next time, don’t sneak out,” he mumbles, the soft curve of his lips twitching up slightly when he finally looks at you. The weight of his eyes on you has always been a bit heavy for you to bear, but tonight it feels burning, and so does his hand when he drops it onto your thigh to drag little circles into it. “It’s not like we have to hate each other all of a sudden.” You don’t, it makes your frown dig deeper into your brows. He waits for your answer. When it doesn’t come he slowly pulls away from your warmth, mouth corners dropping slightly. “We can still talk.” This last one comes out more like a question than anything he’s said all day, and it makes you laugh, though you have to bite your lip to keep it down.

“Can we really, Kenji?” you ask him, looking away from him when he avoids your gaze. You turn back to the sea instead, letting the salty air stick to your lungs in case the drive back home hits you over the head with nostalgia early. “We were never meant to stay here so long. I wasn’t meant to get used to this. Because when we leave tomorrow, I won’t be able to come to you anymore. And I’m sure you’ll go on getting whatever you need out of your pretty, little life,” your voice softens when the sun sinks under the horizon, leaving you with only a few minutes of the last sunlight. “But I don’t think I want to see you grow away from me.” Again, you almost say, though you know it’s not fair to make him apologize for it a second time. And because it is not fair at all, you’re the first to leave the chill of the balcony. You hold your glass aside in one hand as you step over his feet and walk back into the shiny villa.

The cold, shimmering house you felt uncomfortable in doesn’t feel foreign anymore though. And you hate having to consider that maybe somewhere through it all, you really did grow as colourless. Maybe you grew used to pretending to fit, like Kenji did. Not that it’ll matter much once summer ends anyway. The wave you give the guests is a small one, getting a disapproving tut of his mother’s lips from a distance. You know that’s exactly why he asked you of all people, and by now it doesn’t bother you anymore. You don’t wait up for him as you move up the stairs. The spare room is— was yours for a while, and as much as you didn’t expect it to, you know you’ll miss it.

You know this is the place you’ll think of when remembering. You’ll remember the baby pink sheets you insisted on that Kenji mumbled he didn’t like even though he let you have them anyway, and the way your makeup was just a little more fun to do when he was watching over your shoulder in the rising light of the sun than in the dark corner of your room back home. The memories of this summer will replace the ones of past experiences, and maybe when you leave, you’ll think of Kenji as something excellent again. Like you did for so long. But for now… for now you don’t want to thank him for it. For now you want to be as angry as he was when he left you at the corner of the street at fourteen, tears in his eyes as he told you that he never wanted you to be hurt like that by him again.

And you know that he meant well, because despite his quick tongue and a hunger for breaking through people’s shells, he’s never had a bad bone in his body. But none of that matters, when it still leaves you alone. You don’t know why you thought any of this was a good idea.

“Just come with me. I told them it was someone who lived in the street with us before we moved and it’d be so much easier to have you there, not someone who I’m reading lines with,” he’d said, and you had laughed a little too hard at the absurdity of that. You’d put your white bag of groceries by your feet just to cross your arms across your chest and lift a brow at him, snorting at his pristine shoes and branded shirt once.

“Why the hell ask me, of all people? There’s plenty of pretty girls that lived farther down the street that work much better in the whole play you’re trying to sell them. Your parents hate me.” Your voice had been a little too sharp, too accusatory to have come from an objective place, but why the hell would you have been when it came to him? You’d known each other for years and then lost contact for just as long, you’d probably already been totally different people for a while. “What do you really want, Futakuchi? You’re not still rebelling against your parents, are you?”

“Is it so impossible to you that I just want to take you with me for this?” he’d huffed, running his long fingers through the shorter cut than the one you remembered him with, looking down at you. Always had been tall too, but now it seems almost mocking in difference.

“It is,” you’d snorted, picking up your groceries again. “Can’t believe you really came all the way back here to find me, honestly. I mean- of all the things you could have started a conversation with…” You’d taken a step from the sidewalk, fully intent on heading home. But his hand had been on your arm in an instant, a gentle, sturdy reminder that this wasn’t just some stranger. You’d bit your cheek and narrowed your eyes at him, before sighing. “Give me one good reason why I would.”

And the tiny, hopeful smile on his lips had been enough to remind you of every single memory you’d shared. “I’ll make it worth your while?”

+

He has made it worth your while, you think as you start packing your bag, not bothering to change out of the satin white present just yet. In all honesty, you don’t even know why you’ve let him in again. As most things that happen in summer, he’ll fade once it’s gone. Freckles do. Scars do. Memories do too. It’s the natural flow of things. So you don’t know why you still feel so saddened by the thought. The feet on the stairs are a bit too slow and careful to be completely thoughtless, something that makes the slight twitch of your lip feel comforting. The soft creak of the door is all the warning you get, and you take a deep breath to prepare.

Because whatever comes out of his mouth next won’t be easy to swallow either. You press the flowy shirts into your bag a little more, focussing on the way they get dented under your fingertips when you let your palm rest on the shiny silk. If you didn’t want to let him in why did you do it then, it sounds loud in your head, even though in your inner monologue it sounds strained too. Why? This high life isn’t you, the rumours and playing dress-up for everyone else’s amusement isn’t either.  But maybe you wanted to try for Kenji. Maybe you wanted to see what it was that led him away from you and onto better pastures. The grass really might be a bit brighter, is all you can think, given how much sunlight it gets in the stretch of open space here.

“Is this really how you want to leave it?” he asks, calling your name from beside you. You continue with the clothes until it feels like your fingers are cold and the words have sunken into the floor. But there’s so little to say. “Come on, princess, you don’t have to…” he sighs, and you turn over your shoulder only to watch the line dig between his pretty brows and remain there for too long. His eyes roam along the curve of your face down to your neck, where the diamond necklace with his initials engraved still hangs. A present— fake present, to sell the whole dating thing. “Why are you trying so frustratingly hard to prove me wrong? I mean- just imagine you had fun this summer, and I did too. Would that be so bad?”

“Does it really matter, Kenji?” your mouth is quicker than your thoughts in moments like these, but you’re grateful for them, because otherwise you might freeze over in the lack of his glow. “We weren’t really together. All of this was a little performance, and we played it well,” you huff, putting on your bravest smile as you put your makeup bags away too, “but once we’re gone here you’re going to go back to all of those people and tell them we broke up, remember? It’s fine for us to have bad blood after a ‘breakup’. We held hands and slept in the same room, that doesn’t suddenly make us the best of friends again.”

“A whole summer and this is where you give up?” He huffs, chest rising a little too rapidly. “I think we need to have a talk about timing it out, sweetheart, because of all the times you could have given up on me—”

“I never gave up on you. You gave up on us a while ago, don’t put that on me. You’re the one who stopped responding to my texts when you left.” The grating of the zipper is loud when you close the bag, putting it next to the bed. Your feet hurt, and your head feels heavy in the silence, but it’s the shuffle of his feet that has you freezing over. Without a word he gently rests a hand on your hip, pulling you into him until your arm is squished between your body and his chest. Like that he holds you, looking at the ceiling while he speaks.

“I’m not good at this.”

It’s the soft sigh that comes out after his blank tone that has you softening until you’re barely anything but mush, his other arm wrapping around your front and keeping you locked in an embrace that you couldn’t crack if you wanted to. And in all truth, you probably don’t. As he leans his nose to your temple, his cologne fills the air you breathe and forces you to taste him before you’re ready to, making you swallow him whole with the soft beating of his heart against your skin.

And then you hear his father call his name, with a smile laced between the letters, like he’s the most precious thing. He is, to you as well. And it’s the shake of your head after his father’s call that reminds you it is the same for him, you both ache to burn up together, to be pressed so close to each other that the air has no room to go. It reminds you that this was never your spot to stand in. You swallow through the pressure of welling tears to place your fingers to his chest and push, stumbling back a step.

“Kenji, come say goodbye! Your friend can handle packing herself,” his mother calls from the hall. Friend. You’ve long despised the way she spits the syllables of the word, but you also know that to her, you, all that you have ever been, is nothing more than a cliff in the way of her son’s future. The brunet bites his bottom lip as he stares at the toes of your dainty, little heels; before slowly straightening out his shoulders and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He doesn’t look back at you when he turns to the door.

“She’s my girlfriend, mom,” he shouts back, but even you can tell that there’s no fire left behind the words. In the end, he always would’ve lost that fight anyway. You can hear the soft murmurs of a conversation between his parents, but it stays quiet after that. And Kenji moves his jaw back and forth a few times in thought, before he rests his hand onto the doorknob. “I have to go see them out, just a second.” You lick at your strawberry lip gloss and brush your hand over your white dress a few times as you nod, crossing one foot over the other in place.

Before he leaves the room to go wave out his to-be fiancé and her parents, you let the words fall. If not for your good, at least for his. “Kenji, I know you’re trying to prove to your parents that you don’t have to listen to what they tell you. But you and I both know that you will anyway, because you care about them.” His shoulders rise and fall with each breath, but his back is the only thing you get to see. You’re grateful for it. And you can’t help but let a small smile slip on, because the woman they chose for him is beautiful. She’s kind too. He won’t have it so bad.

“If you really want to be friends still, come find me some time when you don’t need me to do you a favor,” you mumble.

He doesn’t say anything as he steps through the door and walks down the stairs, and you chuck the last of your stuff on the bed to put it away too.

+

And if summer is the time you leave with a heavy heart and the weight of the world on your shoulders, maybe it’s the universe’s way of finding balance making you meet him in winter. The hot glow of wine buzzes through your chest, black, beaded dress a tad too short for the cold weather. But you’re hidden out in the bustle of people in similar clothing and packed close together, laughing along with some of your classmates. It’s dim and dark and surprisingly trashed for what should have been a friendly gathering, but as students tend to do, everyone who got word showed up for the free booze. You lean into one of the girls. “I’m gonna go take a look around the front, I want to see the ice rink!”

“Okay, I gotta use the restroom but I’ll find you,” she nods, before probably relaying her boyfriend the same message. You squeeze through a few of the people with slow steps, goosebumps rising as soon as the packed people grow wider apart in the hall. The loud music is less overwhelming here, you notice, swaying slightly. And little sparkling snowflakes are hung with lights along the walls, making you smile. As you shuffle past a group of girls significantly drunker than you, the frosty air hits you. With flushed cheeks and noses they laugh and spread out among their friends like it’s the only thing winter leaves room for.

As you step out into the night, it’s easy to pretend that this isn’t one of those nights you try to forget. But even tipsy, you know better. The laughter out here is loud, some people squeaking at the cold as they slip around on skates, clinging to each other in drunk, off-balance groups. You wrap your arms tight around yourself as you walk through the grass toward the rink, shaking a little at the frosty air coming up from the ice. The gritty sound of the skates on the ice is barely audible over the chatter and laughter of all of the people, some generic Christmas playlist bouncing around the garden through the speakers.

You lick your bottom lip as you lean onto the banister and blow out a little cloud. A cursed thought of Kenji worms it’s way between your ears as you watch. So with pursed lips, you leave your spot to look around for the tables with booze. The guy behind the stand grins when you tell him to give you a double, though he doesn’t comment on it, and you place it to your lips with a second of preemptive regret, before downing the thing.

It burns on it’s way down, hitting the back of your throat with a nasty, bitter taste. You frown, and chuck the empty plastic beaker into the trash can. A soft chuckle catches you slightly off guard. “Going through it?” the guy asks before you turn to face him, hands in his pockets and broad frame cutting off your view of the people skating. Out of all the people you had to run into tonight, of course it’d be your ex. He must’ve come here for one too many drinks. As he leans past you to pick up one of the shots himself, you take a step back. You didn’t plan on being cordial to strangers tonight, let alone exes.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“I can tell,” he chuckles, sticking out his hand towards your face. “You always get that expression on your face when you’re lost in thought.” He sounds oddly fond at that, it makes your stomach feel heavy. You two didn’t end it great and though you didn’t date for long, you’d rather step on glass than pretend to be a good conversation partner to a person who never even bothered to remember your last name. You glance around the groups of people for anyone you know. Haru doesn’t take the hint when you sigh loudly either. But you don’t see the people you came with anywhere, so you drop your shoulders with a sigh. “Drink?” the black-haired man asks, and you shake your head.

“No, I think I’ve had enough for tonight. Will probably be heading home soon anyway.”

“Ah,” he grimaces at that, “already? And here I was thinking you’d like to talk to me again.” Anything but that. “You always skip out of classes so soon that I didn’t get to talk to you after we split, but that blondie tells me you’re doing well.” He downs his shot easily, and it’s then that you realise how flushed his cheeks and nose are, no longer from the cold. “You sure you don’t want another drink?” he says, as you look over his shoulder to the rink. There’s enough people here not to be worried about starting trouble, but the way he leans into your space is still uncomfortable enough to have you backing yourself into the wall.

“Yes, I’m good.” When you try to take a step away, he reaches for your arm, and out of instinct you snatch it back. “Stop, don’t touch me,” you snap at him, and he frowns for a second. Clearly too drunk to understand that you’re not interested in playing his games at all, even if he doesn’t mean harm. He huffs out an amused breath at your short answer and reaches out again, and you glare at him. “Haru, cut it out, I’m not playing this stupid game.” But it’s when he gives you a harder stare, lips drooping, that you remember why you only dated for a month. He doesn’t know when to stop, definitely not when he drinks.

“Come on, don’t be like that. We had some good chemistry, didn’t we?” He walks too far into your space, and gives you an up and down. “Why don’t we get out of here and try that again? You look really good tonight.” As soon as he reaches for the edge of your dress, his arm is caught in a tight grip, his face scrunching up.

“Keep your fucking paws off of her,” the person hisses, tall body suddenly right there for you to lean into. You don’t even need to look over your shoulder to feel the wave of safety that comes when he shoves your ex back a few steps and pulls you into him under his chin, sighing. Within seconds, every bit of his attention is aimed at you, dousing you in heat under his sharp gaze. “I was looking for you, angel. Don’t just wander off.” He smiles down at you, honey eyes glittering in the surrounding light. “Everything okay, are you hurt?” And your heart seems to swell twice the size at his handsome face.

The stupid stutter of your pulse reminds you just how much he affects you. Maybe even more now. “No, I’m fine,” you whisper back, so soft it barely reaches your own ears. But he must understand, because he turns you in his hold and places a kiss on your nose, then looking back at the guy. You do too, for just a second as he processes the situation, and you don’t really want to stick around long enough for him to get the chance. “Kenji, this is Haru. Haru, this is my boyfriend,” you say easily, not the first time you’ve had to play this role. It comes easily when you feel his strong arms around you, when you feel his breath dusting over your skin. He smells like holiday spices, and you allow your body to melt in a little more.

“Let’s go,” is all you have to say to make him giggle, letting you from his hold to walk you past the people and out of the mass of sloppy drunks. You stare at his back as he leads you on, fingers cold in his warm palms. When you come to a halt in a quieter hall, you gently pull back, and he stops. You’re both quiet, and your dress suddenly feels a bit too snug to breathe entirely comfortably, as his eyes roam your features quickly. You lick your lips, then take a deep breath. “Since when do you mix in with the loney seniors during the holidays?” The grin that comes to his lips is beautiful, widening when you continue. “I thought you graduated, Kenji. Don’t have anything better to do?”

“Am I not welcome anymore, princess?” he playfully bites back, and you try and hold in a laugh, failing miserably. He runs his hand through his hair, before leaning against the wall. “I was helping out a buddy set up that shit out there.”

You nod in understanding as you take him in, the Christmas sparkles filling his eyes with a shimmering glow, waiting for— something to give. Though you could stand and watch him forever. Until he cracks his lips open to giggle. “We have nothing to say to each other again?”

“Oh, I have plenty to say,” you respond, cheeks bunching up when he takes a step toward you to grab onto your hands. “Just… maybe not right now.” The hall here is mostly vacant, leading back further into the uninteresting part of the house, so the thump of the bass doesn’t overwhelm your chest. You’re so grateful for that when he stands toe to toe with you, and strokes his thumb over your fingers. “Kenji— I-”

“Wait,” he says though, leaning down to hover his face so close to yours it makes you dizzy. “I have things to say too. I’m sorry for,” he peeks out his tongue in thought as he looks away, and you use it to lean your face away from him a little. It’s not fair. The festive atmosphere is making your mind all twisted. “For taking for granted that you stuck by me. I think I was trying to prove myself so much this summer that I took too lightly that you were there for me when I needed you. And I’m sorry if I… hurt you.”

“It was a good memory anyway.” You pull your hands out of his when he eyes you down again, much too intense for a normal two people at a random party, but it seems appropriate only because it’s him. The way his cheeks are slightly coloured a peachier tone, his expression no longer the teasing grin you’ve grown to know. “Does this mean I’m invited to the wedding again?”

The amused gleam sparks over his face at that for just a second. “Eager are you, princess? If I were to ask you now would you say yes?”

You swat his hand away as he reaches for you again, grinning too wide. He always manages to leave you a bit too giddy. “I meant with the girl from this summer, you flirt.” He doesn’t take his eyes away from you for a second as he instantly replies, like he’s trying to commit your reaction to memory. It makes you feel so much smaller than you are, because like everything else with Kenji, he always leaves you vulnerable.

“I said no.” Your eyes widen. But the why must be visible on your face because he continues. “I said no because she’s not the person I would’ve stayed married to in the long run, she’s not someone I think about every single day. Someone who doesn’t get hurt when I inevitably flap out some stupid shit. Someone who knows what I’m doing even when I can’t admit it to myself yet.”

“Then you best find someone like that, huh.” You take a step away from him. This is too much. The moment, however perfect, is just too dreamy. You and Kenji aren’t— this, you’re messy and hazy and romantic confessions aren’t your thing. And you can’t help but think that this, this is what’ll break you most of all. You never wanted to think of your feelings for him as anything more than a little crush, so why do you feel this way? So shaky. “I should go home, it’s cold and I wasn’t going to stay for long anyway.”

Maybe it’s because you’ve made peace with being the thing that he clung to to rebel so long ago, that your feet move before your brain can catch up. All you know is that he’ll crack you wide open if you stay any longer, and you don’t think you can handle that. Before he can say anything else, and you know he does— you can read it in his widening eyes, you pivot on your heel and start walking away from the noise of the main room, towards the doorway. But his frustrated huff is loud behind you, and his footsteps close your heel.

“Stay,” he asks, shattering your glass cage into a thousand pieces. Because Kenji is only demanding when he is sure of what he’s doing. You don’t make it to the door before he reaches down to grab you by the edge of your dress, pulling you into the stairway, hidden from sight. You veer back like a spring because of his grip, as his other hand comes to keep you from falling.

In your attempt to turn, you stumble backwards, his arm caging you against the wall for balance. You stare up at him for several seconds squeezed against the wall. With a little frown, the brunet lets go of you, though the hand on your other side doesn’t have any intention of leaving. “Don’t chase me, you sap.” Before he can say anything, you blink up at him so cutely. “What are you doing?” There’s a slight fog in your eyes when you trail off. But you look intoxicating in the best way.

“Oh, shut up.” He grimaces, doing his best to keep the stubborn grin from crawling back to his cheeks. For a second, he wonders if this is out of line. Just a split second, where it seems like it’s not his place to intervene. One he has to wonder if you’re bothered by his unending indecisiveness. But as if on clue, you laugh. Full and genuine, with every fiber of your being you laugh, leaning your head to his chest in the process. Maybe you are fed up with him by now. But he wants to say it, anyway. “I said no because I can’t imagine doing this for anyone else, baby.”

When you take a deep breath in, you look at him from under your lashes. Your mouth curves prettily in the shine of the dimmed lights. “Don’t tell me you fell in love with me while we were playing pretend.” A warmth spreads on his cheeks at the teasing glint in your eyes. “Though I did that too, so I guess we’re both saps.” Your hand wraps around his larger, fingers cold against his warm skin. He takes a deep breath through his nose, at a sudden loss for words. The hall is much more quiet than the main one, lacking in people too. It’s chilly, but his body is warm. Your eyes are on him as he moves back to face you, softly regarding him.

“Was it the fancy button-ups?”

Your tongue peeks out to wet your lips again. “No.” Your finger softly taps the side of his hand, though he doesn’t know if it’s a comforting move or a concerned one. Though your fingers are noticeably colder than his, your touch is soft, like velveteen. “It was everything else.” His bright eyes bore into yours for an extended second, before the tenseness of his shoulders drops when you move back to press your weight into the wall, tilting your head to the side.

His laugh is one of surprise, slipping out like it’s been aching to do so for a long time and you also look surprised, if your raised eyebrows are anything to go by. It doesn’t last nearly as long as it should, but you seem to bloom at the sound, even joining with it after a bit. His laugh makes you flutter, and that almost sends him spiraling. Because it’s his laugh that makes you smile.

“Good. I— As fucking embarrassing as it is to admit, I miss waking up next to you.” Kenji’s hand moves from your side to glide over his thigh, a move to soothe his nerves. His gaze finds yours with more fervor this time. “I miss that thing you do when you cling to my arm or back or hand, okay?” His voice is deep when he talks. “I miss your goofy ass.”

It stays silent for a long minute, one where he can see every breath you take. Eventually you bite your bottom lip. “You’re a menace, Futakuchi Kenji,” you say, mouthing it eagerly as if his name is something grand. Something to be proud of, it makes his heart swell. Your lips look like they taste of candy floss. It’s distracting, even more when you smile. You’ve always been so beautiful to him, he feels like leaning closer to you just so he can hold himself up on the wall. It’s embarrassing how badly it renders him. “I should hate you by now.”

You huff out a small laugh, and place your hands on his chest, the pressure of your nails poking through his shirt. “But you somehow manage to rope me back into your schemes each time,” you smile, a playfulness dripping from under your lashes, “you’re lucky I love you.” A few seconds of pause. Kenji revels in the heat that dusts your cheeks when you realize what you just said.

Before you can bring out an attempt to cover up your confession, he leans closer, effectively trapping you between him and the wall. Before he can think about it, his hand finds your chin, tilting it up towards him so that you can look at him, and oh— are you looking. “Yeah? I know you want me just as bad as I want you.” He can almost see the pitter patter of your heart on your face, longing marking every inch of skin. With a firm hold on your jaw, he leans down to hover in your space, faces so close that he can feel your breath meeting his own. “Isn’t that right?”

When you give the tiniest motion of agreement, the length of his body finally finds yours. Your lips open to let out a small noise, so soft that it immediately gets swallowed by the room. But the brunet smiles at it, moving his thumb over the soft expanse of your cheek. “I could ruin you without trying, angel.” Again, you nod, warm and dark in the thick tension of the room. Though he didn’t start the night with this in mind, he’s wanted this for longer than he dares admit. Marking your body with blooming hickeys. The tightness of his pants seems to prove so.

“You could,” you bring out feebly, fingers tangling in his grey shirt to keep a hold on reality, “and I’d probably let you.” His free hand moves to grab your thigh, pulling you flush against him now, as the other goes to rest on the small of your back. Your eyes are dark like smoke, and though he can’t check to see, he knows his are too. Then you move one of your hands to grab at the hair at the base of his skull, willingly tilting your face upwards so that your lips almost brush his, and every string in his body is ready to snap. Every piece of clothing on his body seems too much, too warm. The friction is irritating. “Do you want to kiss me, Kenji?” you breathe.

Yes. He doesn’t wait for it. Lips on yours in a blink. Hands on your skin and under your dress and traveling up your thighs. It happens in a breath, so sudden that he might topple over if he wasn’t pressing you into the wall. Your lips are scalding, red hot like smoldering coals and maybe you could send him up in flames if you tried. Your hands grab him harder, closer, as if the non-space is still too much and he’d be inclined to agree. And his lips move harshly on yours, tongue meeting your own.

The kiss is hard and messy, fire surging from your body to his. “Fucking finally.” He bends down more to tuck you entirely in his hold, grabbing a handful of ass. When he squeezes hard, you squeak into his mouth, dissolving in a twirl of smiles and something more desperate. But you don’t ever stop kissing him, and  he’s sure you two could keep going forever. Where your fingers were cold before, now they seem to trail sparks over his skin. You pull away for a second to take a breath, before kissing him again, his bottom lip, his jaw, under his ear. Your hand grabs desperately at his shoulder.

But he’s only just gotten a taste of you, so Kenji catches your lips with his again, sucking sharply on your bottom lip. It makes you melt into his hold, trying desperately to stay upright. “Fuck, angel.” The hand that is glued to the soft expanse of your back moves to grab another handful of ass, your hips pulled to his. Your tongue tastes like some candy flavored drink, melting with the barren taste of the hard liquor from earlier. Your chest brushes against his own with every breath.

Every part of you is piping hot, sweet and sour and holy fuck— his dick is so hard. Never once has a make out turned him on this much. “You want to do this here?” he asks, and you nod instantly. As in retaliation for the interruption of your kisses, you pull his lip between your teeth and bite it hard. The sting only serves as a temporary line down to earth.

Mouths and tongues a blur as they melt together. Again, his hands are moving on instinct. His fingers tangle in the bottom of your hair. “Want you so bad, Kenji.” You pull back to rest your head on the wall, allowing him a breath, before you blatantly moan at the feeling of his hands on you. Your eyes stay closed. Lips swollen and blurred at the edges. You look fucking heavenly, and the thought that it’s all for him to take makes every fiber in him shake. “Don’t be gentle with me,” you mouth, blindly grabbing at his neck to pull his face back to yours, “please.”

Your bottom lip seems to shake with how badly you mean it. “If you’re gonna do this, do it well.” Your whisper is faint, bringing a small smile to his lips. You don’t see it, but it’s okay. He too is overwhelmed with the undying urge to make you his. He kisses you with a small hum to join. When his lips break from yours, you do open your eyes, looking just as smitten as he feels. “I swear, you jerk. I won’t forgive you if you go soft on me now.” He stares at you for just a moment longer, before nodding. Dragging his mouth over your jaw. Down your neck, hard, open mouth kisses everywhere. And as soon as he adds teeth, you curl into his body, clinging desperately to his back. You moan, your noises sweet like sugar.

The thought of fucking you against this wall crosses his mind, but as fast as it comes, he knows that won’t sate him. He needs you on a bed, spread out for him once, or twice. Sweat drips down his neck and chest and joins the ruined floor of the party. The tightness of his pants is almost painful when your hips tilt to rub over him. It pulls a small laugh out of him, brushing over your shoulder. “Eager, baby?” he asks, though he’s not expecting an answer. Instead, he just digs his fingers into the soft skin of your ass again while you mumble some incoherent words. “Want me so bad, huh?”

“Yes, yes, want you.” Your whines turn into noises of clear impatience, so he pulls back to check his work. Your dress is pulled all the way forward, almost slipping off your one shoulder, and your mouth is open. The hickeys blooming on your skin only make you look more wrecked. He thought he was done, but fuck. Yet again, he has to lean down to grab your face in both of his large hands, and to pull your lips to his. You just whimper, and let him claim your mouth as his, looking too blissed out. “Want your fat cock.”

Your glowing body presses to his again, in an attempt to move things forward maybe, fuck if he knows. At this point, he’d do anything if you just asked. But he’ll do his very best to ruin you like you need him to. “You’re getting my hands now. Beg for my cock after that, pretty girl.”

His knee lifts to sit tightly in between your thighs, and you moan at the small act. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he breathes, mouth at the nape of your neck to bite down there sharply, as your hips stutter to drag over his thick thigh. It sends an unbearable amount of pressure to his center, enough to make him pause. You don’t let him though, squeezing and grabbing at any skin you can get your hands on, as you successfully roll your hips on his thigh. A high pitched noise trembles from your tongue. “Aren’t you a desperate, little girl? Look at you rubbing yourself all over my thigh.”

You just nod harshly, opening your eyes to look at the brunet with a heat-filled need. “K- Kenji,” you whisper, digging your nails into his bicep as he pushes his leg harder into your center, “fuck, holy fuck, please.” Your gorgeous expression right now is priceless.

“You’re soaking through your panties, aren’t you?” His one hand moves past the dress and under your bra to grab you without shame. Your eyes shut with a sharp breath in. “Aren’t you, angel?” he repeats, dark tone pressed to the softness of your cheek. You breathe a faint ‘yes’, probably, but Kenji’s not sure.

He maneuvers your chin sideways to access the untouched side of your neck, and sucks down there with a feverous breath of his own. Fucking shit, he wishes he’d done this a million times over already. You leave him starstruck. As your slicking cunt moves over his thigh in a punishing rhythm, he squeezes hard at your tits, and rolls your sensitive bud between his thumb and index finger. “Use your words for me, I know you can. You’re normally so mouthy.” It’s too much for you, you suddenly pull his head away from your neck and quiver in his hold.

“I— I’m,” his free hand moves to wrap your one thigh around him, not bothered by the interruption in the slightest, “I need to…” You don’t finish your sentence when he ruts his hips to your core, making the both of you moan. God, he wants nothing more than to have you right here, make you see who you belong to. But he’s too selfish to give in so easily. You try again, hooded eyes on him as you jut out your bottom lip. “Daddy— please, fuck— I’m close.” The words alone make his dick even harder, if possible. It might not be long or he bursts, with how tight his pants are wrapped around him.

The smile he gives you is a genuine one. “You wanna cum? You wanna cream all over me, have everyone know how good I can make you feel?” You wrap your hand around his forearm for support. “Do it then.” The desperate roll of your hips to his clothed dick speeds up, each bit of friction to your clit getting you closer. With a devilish smirk that fights its way to his face, he pinches your nipples, not letting your hips still on his thigh. When he bites down on the soft of your neck you buck against him and fall over the edge, nails digging into his back and arm hard.

“Fuck— fuckfuck oh-fuck, ahng, daddy!” You slump into him through the lingering high as he keeps grinding into you until you whine at the rough fabric of his jeans against your slicked, almost translucent panties. His free hand dips smoothly under your dress and past your ruined panties.

“God, you are soaked, baby.” Your wetness is sure to stain a dark patch on his pants.

“Ahg- daddy,” you whimper, “no- more t-teasing. Wanna be full.” The leg that is pressed in between your legs parts them wider, giving him the space needed to slip his fingers under you, first one, then two. You tilt your head back, allowing him the perfect opportunity to latch his mouth back on your neck. You’re effectively dripping, allowing his long finger to slide in without any resistance. He doesn’t hesitate to add a second, enjoying your soft noises of pleasure above him as his lips suck a hickey at the top of your breast.

“Do my fingers feel good in that needy pussy?” He thrusts them inside hard to accompany his words, sending you forward into a blubbering mess. The only thing he can make out is the word ‘yes’, that you chant a million times. You’re so responsive, it’s adorable. His fingers move smoothly in and out of you with a curl, leaving you moaning through the stretch. But he doesn’t stay this kind for long, needy in his touches as much as you are. He pulls back to watch you squirm on his hand and lock your thigh around his body, fingers thrusting in and out with obscene noises and delivering a slap to your clit every time skin connects to skin. “You’re such a little slut. I would’ve stuffed you each fucking night and morning if I knew.”

You’re pinned under his sharp movements, arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close and breathing hot and heavy against his skin. “Feels so good, your fingers -ahn- feel- amazing.” And every time he jams them into your tight hole, thumb rubbing over your clit, you seem to clench harder around his hand. He adds a third finger, smiling at the whines you let out, and curls his fingers as much as possible, until the rhythm becomes too much to bear.

Your body bends entirely under his will, as you whimper. “God— fucking shit, I’m gonna come again.” A soft whine, before your face tilts towards him with two shaky breaths. “Kiss me daddy, please— oh, please, don’t stop.”

He wouldn’t stop even if someone paid him to do so. He gives in, moving his free hand to your jaw to grab it tight, and pushes his lips back on yours harshly. His thick fingers spread you thin as you clench around him, and his thumb setting an unrelenting pace. It doesn’t take long until you’re coming all over his hand and thigh even harder, moaning into his mouth with an iron grip on his shoulders. You dissolve in his arms as he doesn’t let up on your clit until you’re effectively shaking, body jerking with aftershocks. His hand stills in you for a moment as you come down from your high, mouth hung open.

And then you open your eyes at him, and send him the world’s sweetest smile, and he’s totally lost for you. He’ll be yours, and just yours. He’ll make it worth the wait. “Good?” he whispers into your ear, covering your body with his as much as possible when he pulls his fingers out of you, and unwraps your thigh from his body. Your cum and arousal drips down your both thighs as you nod your head, still holding onto him for support. He nods in agreement once, before pressing a kiss to your cheek and pulling away from you. He slides his fingers into his own mouth to clean them off one by one, enjoying the shell-shocked look on your face as he does so.

“That’s it, pretty baby,” he says, “almost made me cum too.” He reaches down in between your thighs once more to swipe up the trails of your cum and reaches up to hover them over your lips, to which you respond by eagerly taking his fingers in yours, and cleaning those off with your soft tongue too. The visual only reminds him of how hard his cock is, and how badly he needs you. You finish off with a soft pop, before looking down at the floor with coloring cheeks. “Good girl.”

He looks around for a moment to catch his bearings, before looking back over at you where you’re fixing your dress back over your body. “Let’s find a room upstairs so I can fuck you stupid.” Your big eyes find his with a dark burning desire still. “I want to have you creaming on my cock too, before I confess my undying love.”

“Yes please.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙱𝙻𝙴

indelible; something ingrained, unfading, indestructible you never really minded the twin rivalry. until you ended up in the middle of it, with atsumu on the losing side.

sequel to mirror (you don’t need to have read it before but it’s recommended)

.wordc. 5k+ tw incest, noncon > dubcon, mentions of past noncon, jealousy, hair pulling, praise kink, unprotected sex

+

Sometimes you wonder what the world would look like if you could have two suns in the sky. Or two halves of the same core, the same molten stardust that flickers with life. You’re not sure the world could handle it, or at best— you alone can’t. But you grew up knowing them this way, only ever together. Always in competition with each other, always driving each other forward— at a frightening pace sometimes.

They are both fiery, hardworking and passionate, always have been, and as you grew it became their trademark more with the years. Incessantly. Where Tsumu is precise, Osamu is diligent. Where Osamu is confident and self-assured, Tsumu is bursting at the seams with energy. To strangers they’d be the typical image of similarity. If you’d ask their close friends, they’d probably tell you the twins are more different than you can imagine. But to you, and you’ve been with them almost as long as they’ve been with each other, they are nothing more than distorted shimmers of broken light on the wall.

Not the same or completely foreign, but part of the same blur. You guess in some ways you belong to that whole too— even before you know it yourself.

It’s when you’re five that your older brothers go through a bit of a bully phase. Not to anyone outside the family, just to each other. And to you, with your silly pigtails and a bottom lip that is a bit too easy to shake. And though it’s both of them that tackle you in the grass when you run, sometimes getting on top of you to wrestle when you threaten to tell mom, you remember figuring out at age five which half of the whole it is to stick with at what time.

Samu nii is a lot of things, but he isn’t the one to look for when they bump past you and knock you to the ground. It won’t ever be Samu nii who gives up his chance of winning in order to help their tiny, little sister. Atsumu’s hands are warm when he reaches for you though, and his sleeves always feel soft when he’s wiping your face from the silvery tracks of tears.

When you’re nine, you realize that while Osamu isn’t the one to drop to his knees to help you up, he does care about your wellbeing. Any big brother would- even if they don’t admit it, but he always seems to take pride in it. When one of the boys of your class manages to place a wet kiss on your cheek during lunch and you and your little friends scatter with squeals and the dramatic overreactions only young girls can have, it’s Osamu who crosses the yard to come pull you behind him.

You don’t think protecting you like this would ever even cross Atsumu’s mind, and so it’s easy to bury your face into his back and cling to his sweater while he glares down the boy. It’s Atsumu who laughs it off when you all walk home together at the end of the day, fingers held a little too tight in your brother’s hands.

And it’s when you’re fourteen that Atsumu pulls you into the world’s tightest hug after school, clutching you to his chest. It’s not the first time you see him cry, but it’s the first time you remember taking notice of just how much he truly wants this, sniffling into your neck that he’s invited to the National Youth camp. It’s that night you hold him in your arms and stroke his hair, cuddled up under the soft blankets in the bottom bunk, letting him know that it’s okay if he’s going on ahead. That you and Samu nii will stick together and catch up to him.

And it’s Osamu who comes to sit at the end of the bed when your other brother has fallen asleep, softly snoring, who makes you link pinkies and promise things, quiet in the night. “Atsumu’s gonna go pro, ya’know?” he whispers, and you hum through the thick, dark tension when he looks at his twin, curled up resting on your chest. “He’ll leave,” he says, “so promise you won’t. Promise yer stayin’ with me.”

Promise you’ll be mine.

Promise.

Promise.

You do. It’s when you’re eighteen you learn that where Atsumu grabs hold of the top and strives on to deliver, Osamu promises only what he already knows he can give. And you learn that to Samu nii, promises are sacred.

+

Your house is quieter after that night, and Atsumu doesn’t know why he doesn’t leave. He no longer seems welcome, the tension radiating off of his twin clear enough a sign, but it’s you who delivers the finishing blow each day. You sit alone when he comes back from his runs, and you don’t bother to pretend that you’re not hurt. He’s not an idiot, hell— he’d probably do worse if he was in your place. But he also can’t help the itch he feels when he hears you crying through the wall in the other room, waking both him and Samu up. It’s his brother who pulls you into his chest and tells you to go back to sleep after you’ve stopped screaming through your nightmares, but Atsumu thinks it’s him who gave you them.

Every conversation he has with you after is clipped and hurried, and you never quite meet his eyes. It’s the same kind of distance you put between yourself and Samu, and fuck- he hates every passing second it lasts. Your chair scrapes against the floorboards too loud the last evening of his stay when you clear off everyone’s plates, putting them dutifully in the dishwasher. And Osamu, his twin— your brother for fuck sake, comes up behind you to litter kisses onto your neck and pull you close to him until you have to crack a smile. “I love you, baby,” he whispers then, and your mouth corners always drop a little when you straighten up.

“I love you too, Samu nii.”

He knows you don’t trust him anymore. And he can’t even blame you, because he knows what he did, what Samu is doing to you, is wrong. It’s far past wrong, and it eats him up inside when he has to leave and you two wave him out with a gentle pat on the back. You don’t look at him when he stands at the threshold, your eyes glossing over when he calls for your name. But you offer him another goodbye and walk back into your love den with his brother, as he stands in silence in the hall. “She’ll get over it soon enough, so ya can stop poutin’ now,” Samu mumbles, sighing. “I trust ya to keep this between us.”

His eyes trail over your pitiful form as you disappear down the hall, heart beating unfairly hard against his ribs. “Atsumu,” his brother grunts when he doesn’t respond, eyebrows narrowing. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.” He lets his gaze shift to his mirror image and crosses his arms over his chest, hoping to keep the warmth in his jacket. A hand falls to his shoulder again, and though it feels just as warning as before, the brunet takes a moment to stare into his eyes. Then he nods. “Just know she will forgive you.” The ‘she did for me after all’ stays unspoken, and Atsumu hates that the statement makes his heart swell. He knows he deserves anything you throw at him.

His twin is right in the end, though it takes long enough to have the blond’s stomach churning each time he thinks of asking you to come by some time. At least to get out of the bustle of uni life, he ends up texting you, just hoping that you still care for him enough to take him up on his offer. Just to help you, like his first instinct should have been in the first place. Never again will he touch you like that, he swears to himself, though it’s your teary expression that flashes through his brain the second before he cums almost every time. Remembering the way you’d wrapped your lips around his cock and taken him so pretty, looking at him though wet lashes and heated cheeks.

He knows he shouldn’t find it as intoxicating as he does, and it stabs at his consciousness every time he analyzes a picture of you and Samu a bit too closely. Fuck, how did he never notice the reverant way Osamu looks down at you when you’re in promotional images for Onigiri Miya together. How did he never notice the arm wrapped so tight around your waist on the image staring back at him, plenty of faces that keep the store running, but none as jarring as you two. You look like lovers, well, no— Samu does. The swelling feeling of guilt that has him staying up late at night, wondering if you’ll call him awake some time.

He misses hearing you call him when Osamu doesn’t suffice. He misses being the one you felt safest with. So his heart soars almost painfully when you agree to stay for the weekend, getting away from Sendai for a while, and with the best intentions he agrees. He does.

But it’s odd introducing you to his team. For as close as you might’ve been in childhood and throughout all of middle and highschool, it’s only now he realizes that he never really brought you up to the people around him. He just took his shot alone and ran with it, hoping the shadow he cast was big enough to have you following. That’s how it should have been, that’s what siblings do. So why does it feel like he lost? Osamu’s employees, your neighbors, the old lady behind the counter at the store down the street recognize you and they love you, and every single one knows you’re Osamu’s little sister, never his.

So when he picks you up from the station mid-training and asks the team to go easy for the rest of practice, people glance at you like you’re the most interesting thing they’ve seen this last month. Grabbing your tiny hand and shaking it a bit too enthusiastically, pulling you into hugs and talking your ear off about the upcoming tournament before he even has the chance to speak. And when the captain comes to stand next to him for a moment with crossed arms, the guilt lurches out of his throat and keeps his tongue stuck like glue to the bottom of his mouth.

“Didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Meian laughs, clapping him on the shoulder, “and considering the guys’ reactions neither did they. As long as you keep the team as a priority as much as her, I don’t have any complaints. You seem like a good couple.” The noiret laughs then, and though Tsumu knows he should say something to correct this assumption, he can’t. “Oh, and go a bit more gentle on the poor thing, Miya. She’s bruised to hell and back.”

He joins the rest of the team in conversation not ten seconds later and lets you slip your hand into his for comfort, and the smile that comes up is instinctive. When all his friends ask for your name, he only tells them the first part. And though he knows it’s a horrible thought, he loves that you’re not the Miya twins’ little sister to them. No, to his teammates, you’re Miya Atsumu’s beautiful, smart, stunning girlfriend. And he gets a sick thrill out of watching their eyes flick over your body and the hickeys peeking out under your shirt and shorts, because he got to fuck your mouth and they didn’t.

+

The weekend together goes well enough, considering. You both spend so much time together, that it almost feels like nothing ever changed. You even call him Tsumtsum nii again. For those precious hours it feels just like it did when you three still lived together and the most you had to worry about was which big brother to feed your excess food. As he makes dinner the last night of your stay, there’s moments where it feels completely natural to have you so near, surrounding him in your presence. And with how busy he always is, it never even crossed his mind that maybe he was missing something in his home.

You.

It’s like the postcard of a perfect household, he smiles to himself, if maybe you were to add a few little ones into the mix. Not any time soon of course, you still have your school and he’s still too busy with his career, but in a couple of years. He doesn’t think of Osamu, and you don’t seem to either when you walk around and talk about anything and everything you can think of, like the months away took as much of a toll on you as they did on him. He smiles to himself stirring the vegetables, letting you bounce around the room and ruffling your hair any time you get close enough to.

But then you creep up behind him and squeeze yourself in between his arms to taste what he’s making, and everything rushes back. His traitorous brain imagines the way your ass would be pushing up against him if you shifted only an inch or two. And how perfect you fit into his arms, better than Osamu, and fuck— you smell so fucking good right now. His arm sneaks around your hips to pull you back into him, automatic, and he lets out a tiny breath when you freeze. Because for as wrong as it is, it’s always felt right to surround himself with you. Something Osamu must’ve been aware of, clearly.

“Niichan,” you mumble, grabbing at his arm and trying to move it back, but he’s always been much stronger than you. “Don’t touch me like that.”

“Why not? I’m just holding my little sister, since when is that a crime?” He puts the spatula aside, turning off the stove and trapping you into his hold more. “Is it because ya only want to belong to Osamu, s’that it? Even after everything I’ve done for ya?” The words tickle along your neck as he talks, leaning in more to press a kiss to your jaw. “How much I came to visit even though yer place is so far away, how much I took care of ya. It’s only natural I wanna hold you a little.” He presses his lips further along the line of your neck, losing himself in your warmth and scent so quickly.

But then you turn in his hold. “Tsumtsum nii, we can’t!” You place your hands on his chest and push, and while he barely moves, it’s rejection enough. And in some way it hurts more, because with Osamu you should have seen it as it was happening. But this, the hurt and jealousy swirling on his features, it has no right to be there. Because he knows just as well as you do that this is fucked up, and that it never should have happened. “Ya can’t. It’s not allowed, if mom and dad knew— y-you shouldn’t want me.”

And he does know. He knows, he knows, he knows that for as much as he loves you, there shouldn’t be this urge to touch you and hold you like it keeps replaying in his mind. So he apologizes, clenching his jaw and continuing with the food in silence, something that drags on the rest of the night. When you both finish brushing your teeth and he walks you to the guest room, there’s a moment where you seem to hesitate. It reminds him of that time he stayed over at your place again now, the way you’d clung to him so tight before he knew just what was happening.

You turn on your heel and take a deep breath, before suddenly wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down the distance to press your lips to his, soft and gentle and entirely different from the kisses he’s seen Osamu steal. But this is better, so much better, because you’re doing it on your own. He moves his lips back against you for a few seconds as you cling to him, a tiny noise of contentment falling from your lips when you pull back. He rests his forehead against yours as your eyes flutter, fingers gently running through the shorter hair at the base of his skull. And the warmth between you two is almost too good to be true.

It’s in that moment he can pinpoint the last of his platonic love tumble straight into more, lust and adoration and trust all mixed into one, and the worst part is that he can’t fucking bring himself to feel guilty. Not one bit. All other girls he’s ever been with pale compared to you, they always would. But you pull away from him and he has to hold himself from pulling you back close, from pressing you up against the wall and devouring you like the starved thing you leave him as. “I love ya, Tsumu niichan,” you whisper softly, swallowing through the rough patch in your voice. “But we can’t, okay? I promised Samu nii.”

“But he-”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m his —” you hesitate on the word, still letting it taste so bitter on your tongue, “he says I’m his wife, and he takes good care of me. And I love him too, so we can’t.” You pull away entirely, dropping your hands to the doorknob and twisting it, and rubbing a sleeve under your eyes. “That’s the difference between the two of ya, niichan. Yer always gonna love volleyball a bit more than ya love me, and Osamu nii is the other way around.” Then you disappear into the guest room, and he lets you. It sticks with him as he tries to close his eyes that night, brain mangled and body hot and feverish.

But he resists the urge to touch himself to you for once, because maybe this is what defeat feels like.

The drive back to Sendai in the morning, though familiar, feels awfully foreign. Everything about the place he grew up in looks wrong and he’s more irritated than ever at the mindless mumbling of the radio, but he’ll take anything to avoid having to look at you right now. As the silence continues, there’s a nagging voice that keeps coming back around. Since when does he take defeat as a valid answer? Since when does he give a shit if he has a fighting chance or not?

Walking you out of the car and to your apartment all happens on auto-pilot, his heart swelling the longer he stares at the soft curve of your face and the way you swing your arms. You crack open the door and mumble softly to yourself as he looks at you, really looks at you. And with another breath it becomes glaringly clear that you’re supposed to be just as much his, if not more. ‘Hm, Samu nii isn’t here yet. Maybe he’s at the store,’ you say, but he doesn’t hear it.

You both walk into the apartment together, you kick the door closed as his eyes fall to one of the pictures of you and Samu together. Smiling, his arm wrapped so tight around your shoulder, wind ruffling your hair and biting at your nose and cheeks. His heart drops the longer he’s forced to look at it, and you remain oblivious as you put down the bags next to your shoes. Why, that’s all that echoes through his head as he watches you, watches you drop your jacket and pick up a ring that you must’ve left at home to keep your secret. You slip it onto your finger too easily, like it barely shocks you anymore. He hates every second of it.

“Tsumtsum nii?” Before he knows it, that fighting spark in him is breaking through like a bomb, when he grabs at your arm and pulls you into him. You freeze when he kisses you, letting his mouth melt with yours and tongue slip in between your lips, the keys dropping from your hands out of shock. You arch into his touch as he kisses you breathless, pulling back and instantly littering them down your throat, collarbones, pulling your shirt down to place them down the valley of your breasts as you pant his name. “What-”

“Yer wrong,” he hisses as he looks up at you through thick lashes, sucking the soft skin above your bra and biting there. His hands are greedy and eager as he slips them under the cups of your bra, pushing the fabric up like it’s offensive. And your hands find his hair, even though you shake your face side to side, he knows you. He knows what makes you tick and makes you cry, even more than you do. Maybe more than Samu does too. He sucks your one nipple into his mouth while flicking the other, tugging on it as you moan. “Don’t tell me what ya think ya know, because yer wrong.”

He’s quick to push you toward the floor, his size and weight more than enough to make your knees buckle, putting you into place under him. He almost snaps at the way you try to hide yourself like he hasn’t seen it all before. Like he hasn’t fucked your mouth or heard how you beg to cum like you did, but this is different. This is the lust of someone who’s got something to prove, and though you love Samu enough not to say it, he knows you want him too.

“Niichan, don’t-” you try, pushing him back by his shoulders to no avail. “Samu will know.” Even hearing that name makes him grit his teeth. So fucking unfair. Why does Samu get to have you and not him? It won’t do.

Pushing you over and yanking your ass up by your hips, you let out a little breath when he grabs a handful of ass. “S’not fair,” he hisses, other hand slipping around to push two fingers to your center through your shorts. The rough feeling of the layers of fabric rubbing up against your sensitive pussy feel good, but you still try to wiggle out from under his strong grip, shaking a bit. It’s not that you don’t love him, you love him so much.

“Tsumtsum nii!” you cry, muscles straining from the unforgiving position.

You’ve always loved your big brothers equally, as much as Osamu tried to pretend that wasn’t true in the past. But you made a promise, and—

he cuts off your thoughts by letting one hand drop to your head and tangle into your hair with a pull that has you moaning. His free hand works on pulling your shorts and underwear down the curve of your ass and thighs. And he grunts at the sight of your pussy already wet and clenching around nothing. Because as much as you know it to be wrong, you still ache to have his cock.

He spits onto the hole for good measure, before bringing those rough fingertips between your bottom lips and spreading them apart, cursing under his breath. “Fuckin’ look at you, already dripping for niichan. Ya pretend to belong with Samu, but yer whoring yourself out to me so easily. Letting my fingers slip in like this, hm?”

He pushes two in despite the bit of resistance, only getting harder watching your eyes roll back as he curls his fingers into the soft walls of your pussy. The lewd squelch of your walls accepting him too easily, body resisting the urge to fuck yourself back onto him. It’s so easy to tell that you want him as much as he needs you, and he’s determined to make you say it too. “Feel good?”

You clench your jaw as your walls tighten around his thick, long digits driving in and out of you. Warm slick mixed with his spit going down your thighs and his hand, as he rubs his clothed center against your ass. “Tsumu niichan,” is all you whimper out, but it’s no longer scolding. It’s a beg, a true desperation for your big brother, and as soon as you realize this you suddenly start shifting around again. “No, niichan, you can’t. We can’t, I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

“Let him.” Tsumu knows how mean his twin can get when he drives him up the wall enough, but he needs this. Needs to feel your warm pussy wrapped around his cock, so that maybe he’ll be able to drive away those plaguing thoughts about you for good.

You try to lift yourself up from the floor, but he just pushes you back down, using one arm to keep you in place and shivering as his fingers hit the same spot over and over again. Your eyes close as tears bead at the corners of your eyes, not from pain but from how overwhelming it feels to have him too. It makes you remember how it was when Samu nii first had you, but instead of only dread and shame, there’s an overwhelming need.

An ache for your empty pussy to be filled by him. It’s bad, but you cling to the fluffy carpet so easily. And his fingers feel so good inside, making your entire body feel right. When he pulls those long fingers out of you to rub the wetness over your sensitive clit, you whimper again, biting your lip to keep it in. Blood rushes between your ears, letting you hear only the pounding of your heart and the way he hisses when settling between your spread thighs. “I know yer gonna beg me for it,” he says, and as cocky as it sounds, he’s right. You both know it.

He fiddles with his belt only a second before getting the zipper and pushing his pants down his thick legs, taking his boxers with them. It’s been too long since he got any sort of proper relief. His hand never fully satisfied him, and any girl he found in his bed always looked like you, but never enough.

There was always something that left him pent up and frankly, losing his mind, because they didn’t moan or beg or sound like you. Didn’t call him niichan like you. The one time he dared ask a hookup to call him that, it had felt so wrong that he’d asked her to leave early. His cock is rock hard as it slaps up against his stomach, drooling enough precum to make the entire head look glazed, all because of you. All because his little sister is a brother fucker, and his own jealousy and devotion even worse.

You reach up a hand and bite into it to keep quiet when he nudges your legs apart more. And you obediently stay in place, which makes his cock twitch and his balls feel even heavier. No wonder Samu loves you this much. Eyes half shut and wet lines running from them, looking so fucking pretty for him. He leans in, pressing the glistening head of his cock to your warm hole and slipping in.

Though your chest heaves and you shake a little, you accept him inside so sweetly. Like he imagined you would. He pushes in a few inches at a time and watches your face scrunch up each time he fills you out further, walls clinging to his fat cock as he pulls back a little. “Fuck, yer so tight. So fucking tight and wet.” He keeps going until you throw your head back and moan into your palm, a mix of a cry and a call for his name, all muffled.

He frowns as he pushes in even more, finally bottoming out and pulling your hand away from your face. “No. Make noise, let me hear you. I deserve this much,” he grunts, pushing the head of his cock up against the end of your walls, watching you twitch and whimper, fat tears rolling down your temples. You’re so fucking beautiful for him. “Ya deserve yer big brother’s cock like this, hm? You want it.”

Clenching your eyes shut so tight, you cry out for him again, throwing your arm back and clinging to the soft fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. And fuck— he understands. He’s never felt this fucking good, and he barely moved so far. “Gonna fuck into you how ya deserve,” he promises, planting a kiss on the corner of your mouth as you struggle for words, legs shaking.

He pulls his hips back then, leaving your dripping cunt empty, before pushing back in entirely and filling you up in a single thrust that has you really crying out. Nails digging into his muscular back and hips pushing back on him, you sob. “Niichan, niichan, your cock f-feels ah, so, s-so good. Love -hngg, love ya, Tsumtsum nii.” He pulls back again, pushing back in faster this time and building a rhythm that has you fucked stupid.

Tits bouncing and mouth dropped open, you let him fuck you like a man starved, dripping around his cock. You can’t even pretend like you don’t want him this much, because when he looks down he can see the ring of white around the base of his cock and the wetness dripping down your pussy. “Love ya too, pretty girl. Taking niichan’s fat cock so well.”

He grabs your hips tighter, leaving little ovals where his fingertips dig in, rutting himself into you with the pounding rhythm until you’re seeing double and you have to shut your eyes tightly. “Say my name, come on,” he grunts, grabbing a handful of hair for a second so he can watch your face as it contorts, heated and looking so perfectly fucked out because of him. It’s heavenly. You clench around his fat length as it slides back in each time, basically shivering from the overwhelming feeling that comes each time the head of his cock pushes into your gummy walls. “Who’s fucking ya like this?”

“Tsumu niichan,” you sob, reaching behind you to reach for something to hold onto, and he untangles his fingers from your hair to grab your hand, holding onto you with a gentleness you don’t expect. You’re left a babbling mess each time he bottoms out so good, barely coherent. “Feel s’good and big, p- can’t take it, niichan. Please, pleasepleaseplease, can’t.”

“Yes, ya fuckin’ can.” He rubs his thumb over your knuckles as he pounds into you, before suddenly grunting and pulling out. “Yer gonna cum, huh? Cum on niichan’s cock like this.” He’s quick to turn you around and push your shaking thighs apart, his lips softly curling upwards as he urges your legs around his glutes. He positions himself back over you, turning your face toward him and laying a long, deep kiss on your lips.

You barely have the energy to kiss back, but moan into it anyway. Then he pulls back enough to hold himself up on one arm and pistons his hips into you, his cock twitching inside you.  One hand dipping between your legs to rub your puffy clit for a few more seconds is all it takes for you to lock your legs around him and grab onto him with a breathless cry of his name, clenching so hard it almost pushes him out. “Atsumu nii!” you whimper, string of mumbled swears being muffled as he kisses you and tangles his tongue with yours.

“My good, little sister, yer perfect for me,” he grunts, pushing himself back up and grabbing hold of your hips to tilt them into him more for access. “Gonna cum, pretty girl. Take it all.” Sweat drips down his chest under his shirt before he groans, muscles clenching and his hands going a bit shaky with the effort put into his lazer focus on your creaming pussy.

The sight of you so fucked out and the way your walls still cling to him any time he pulls out, your tits bouncing with his rhythm, is enough to make him spill his hot cum into you with a last few thrusts. “Fuck -hng, fuckfuck— yer mine!” He lays down onto you and covers you entirely in his heat as he presses his lips back to yours for more slow, deep kisses that make you entirely spaced out.

Your brain blissed out and still trying to catch your breath, you let him kiss you for a few minutes, cock still inside you despite the overstimulation. But you couldn’t ask him to move if you tried. After a little bit of basking in each other’s warmth, he bites his lip to hold in a hiss. The door clicks, as he pushes himself up from you to slip out and sit back onto his heels, brushing his fingers along your cheek. The door swings open.

Your eyes widen as you look over. Samu’s face stays completely impassive for a few moments, before his darkening eyes flick between the two of you. The blond frowns as he scoops you up against him. “Well, would’ya look at that,” Samu clicks his tongue. Hurt and accusation meets understanding when Tsumu wraps his arms closer around you and rests his chin on your shoulder.

The affectionate sight makes Osamu’s nose scrunch, as he drops his bags of groceries and kicks off his shoes. And maybe he’d be right being so mad, if he hadn’t taken your body the exact same way too many times to count. “Ya said ya’d keep him away from what’s mine,” he hisses at you, but with your shaking bottom lip and arms wrapped around yourself for protection, most of his anger is shifted to Tsumu instead. ”And I thought I told you to keep yer fucking hands off’a her, brother.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁

there’s few things that can shake miya atsumu. one thing that can, the way his little sister begs for his help.

.wordc. 2.2k+ tw incest, dubcon/noncon, voyeurism

+

He’s not exactly known for being the moral compass of the world. In all of his life, he’s thought about things before jumping head first approximately two times, and neither thought was concerning the goodness of his actions. But he’s also not a bad person, or tries not to be. When it comes to most things he’s a pretty decent human, and for the parts he lacks, well— that’s probably why he has a twin. It’s making those important calls on his own that give Atsumu a hard time here and there. And in all fairness, he thinks, it’s not his fault he didn’t notice quite as quickly as someone else might’ve.

He’s not home a lot, and even when he is, you’ve all always been close as siblings. Too close sometimes, but it’s what works for you guys so what others think doesn’t matter. He’s learned to tune out most of what Osamu does on a daily basis, and has to in order to stay sane in his own little slice of life without feeling like he’s constantly mirroring his twin. What the other does is not his problem, you don’t say anything if it doesn’t concern you. That is how he’s used to handling his siblings, when it’s not so painfully obvious that something is wrong.

It’s in the way you invite him home every free weekend like he’s some saint, though the first dozen times he only thinks it’s because you miss him a lot. When both your big brothers moved out you must’ve felt abandoned, and you clung just a little tighter when hugging him goodbye after visits. Then when Osamu started Onigiri Miya you moved into his apartment to help as a part-time employee, also avoiding the long commute to uni. You would send him cute pictures of the two of you in the uniform and asking him tons of questions when on the phone, always making the hard days a bit better.

Your favorite question was always ‘when are ya visiting again, Tsumtsum nii?’ and what can he say, it was strangely nostalgic to have you so excited and giddy about what he was doing. Even if you did tend to send him lots of little texts throughout the day that he didn’t get to answer until hours later. He figured you were just lonely and— he hopes— part of that is still true. That the pout and tears you flashed him, the ones he took as a cute, childlike gesture every time he left you for a busy couple of weeks of training, weren’t just desperation.

But then the phone calls started. Nothing like the upbeat message you’d leave him during the day, no. These were few and far in between, and they never left him with a good feeling. You’d sob into the receiver on the other end at 5 in the morning, oftentimes right when he was ready to tuck into bed after being out with his teammates. “When are ya coming back to Sendai, niichan? I need to see you again,” you’d cry and cry and cry, and nothing he said then could soothe you. He’d tell you to wake Osamu up, your voice suddenly growing so quiet. “I’m calling from the hall, I can’t wake him up,” is all you’d answer, hanging up not long after. Just a nightmare, you’d explain the morning after. And Atsumu believed you.

What was he supposed to do? The messages about you sleeping badly to Samu were always answered with the same unsurprised level-headedness he’d come to expect from his twin. And you were a grown woman now, if you had to see a doctor for it, you would. He did try to make his visits back to Sendai fewer in between, to settle the little voice in the back of his skull at least a little. And you’d smile so brightly and cling so tight whenever he did, Atsumu would ruffle your hair and laugh along with his twin. He didn’t say anything about your boyfriend, but he knew you had one, since you were always covered head to toe in kiss marks. Things were good.

They are great even… until the end of volleyball season, when the Black Jackals get some time off and he decides to spend it with his siblings. Your apartment is so comfortable after having lived here for almost two years, it’s so warm and filled with a familiar glow of home. And he could’ve spent it at his parents’ home or even his own house alone, but it’s nice to stay over here too. Tsumu laughs when he notices there’s even more pictures of just you and Osamu on the shelves. “Yer gonna have to take some of all three of us soon, or else people will forget there’s another twin!” You giggle when he pokes your side, but strangely, the joy doesn’t reach past your lips.

“Maybe that’s what we’re going for,” Samu says.

The blond grabs his chest dramatically and stumbles forward, toppling over into the couch. “How could you? Yer killin’ me, dude,” he whines, and your eyes seem to get a little brighter at the normality of their bickering. The other twin just snorts, taking his brother’s bags in hand and walking them to the spare room without complaining. And the little sister… you linger. You do that a lot when he visits since you moved in here, but Atsumu can’t really remember if it’s something you used to do when you were kids too. Like you have something more to say. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth. Shifting onto your heels and picking at the majorly oversized clothing you’re wearing. Looking closer, it seems to be one of Samu’s sweatshirts—

Osamu calls your name as he rounds the corner, and your fidgeting stops. His brother glances over at the couch with a small smile, then down at you where you stand to his side. “Will ya get Tsumu set up for us? I’m sure he’s tired.” He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, and your eyes flutter. “I’m going to check on the food, ‘kay?” It’s not much of a question, since he moves into the kitchen before you can answer. But you nod, and motion him along.

“Here, Tsumtsum nii,” you walk the hall next to him, hand flexing and unflexing a few times before you hold your breath, then gently slipping it into his larger one. And yes, it is a strange interaction, he thinks while looking down at you but you lean into him so sweet and finally seem to relax a little that he doesn’t fault you for a second. You point at the door with your free hand, “this is your room, we moved the desk to the side! I think you’ll like it.”

He smiles down at you when you push open the door so softly, like you’re scared to leave your fingerprints on anything but him, before following your eyes. There’s a little stuffie next to the pillow, one he recognizes. It used to be his when he was a little kid, he had no idea you still had it. But it’s clearly your doing, Samu would never come up with something so thoughtful. “Ya didn’t have to move all yer stuff out of a room for me, didya?”

You seem to pale a little when you look up into his warm eyes, but swallow. “No.” The serious tone catches him off guard. And he doesn’t like getting into other people’s business, but he’s glad when you continue. “I sleep with Samu nii in the room.” Your eyes are on the floor, mouth set into a little line. You breathe in and out a few times under his calculated gaze, before you look back up at him and bite your lip. “There’s fresh towels in the bathroom if you want to take a shower. I should get back to niichan, he’ll call me soon.” You pull your small hand from his, and it’s only then that he notices how sweaty your palm was. Which doesn’t make sense, since you should have nothing to be nervous about. Before you rush down the hall, you turn over your shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re staying for a while, Tsumtsum nii.”

It’s three days in when he starts feeling the familiar itch of working out. You’d scold him though, so he slips out the door as quietly as possible, going for a late night run. When he comes back to the door, drenched in sweat, he jumbles the keys. Pushes them in, turns and then— stops.

“Niichan, hng- niichan!” Your voice is muffled though the wall, but it’s clearly… He drops the keys on the table, shuffling forward in the dark. “It- ah ah ah- it’s too big, not so hard.” It sounds like you’re trying to keep quiet, but the distinct sound of the headboard hitting the wall over and over is grating. Atsumu sits through too much of the moans and grunts before finally coming back to the world enough to go to his room. “Samu niichan, please stop. Tsumtsum nii will be back.” He stops halfway there, because your door is swung open like his is. And Osamu is balls deep inside you, your head pushed into the pillows and turned toward the wall.

“Fuck, yer so tight,” he hisses, the smacking of his slow, deep pace still obnoxious enough to fill the house. “That feels good, doesn’t it? Slutty girl.” You’re pulled back into his hips with each thrust, whining softly. And with your wet pussy filled again and again to the brim right in front of him, it’s hard to think logically. He should have known when Samu looked up your skirt on the stairway last month, or how easily he pulled you into his lap just last night, but even now he’s staring right at you both it is hard to fathom. This feels like a hallucination. “Take my cock like the good, little wife ya are, that’s it.”

You whine and drool onto the pillow until Samu pulls out of you to turn you over. He slides right back in as you moan out at the stretch, before his skin smacks into yours and his hand snakes down to rub harshly over your puffy clit. After a few thrusts, he lays his much bigger body right over yours, kissing you deeply. You shake your face into the kiss, but still cling to him. Your tits rise and fall so pretty for him, it’s almost hard to believe he never noticed before.

“Samu nii, more. Deeper,” you plead, pushing back against his thrusts. “I want to cum.” The headboard gets louder, and the brunet’s low moans do too.

“Oh, don’t worry,” his twin grunts, digging his fingers deep into the soft skin of your ass as he hauls your thighs closer, “I will never forget about my princess, even when ya get mad at me for it. Now say thank you for niichan’s cock, so that I can fuck ya properly.” You shake your face wildly again, letting out a little squeal at a harder pump of the fat cock pounding into you. When you don’t respond, he grabs your throat between his strong fingers and squeezes, as you hick and cling to his hand. “Quickly, yer really testing my patience today.”

Atsumu is not exactly known for being the moral compass of the world. And being so similar to his twin, he tries to be a good person. He does.

“Thank you, niichan, thank you for yer cock,” you squeeze out, little voice sounding so fucking adorable. “Now please let me cum.” Osamu holds you tighter and really starts fucking you into the mattress so hard it might wake him up if he wasn’t already, the squelching and loud smack of his skin connecting to your slicked up center overwhelming. Your back curls off the bed, little legs shaking and toes curling into the soft plush. “Niichan, niichan! Pl- Ah- nii-hnggg fuck.”

But really— admitting your twin is a bad guy is like admitting you’re a bad guy. And if there’s one thing Atsumu doesn’t like, it’s talking down to himself. So when you squeal and shake around your brother’s cock, his dick twitches against his stomach. The feeling of guilt at getting hard from what he’s watching is overruled by the wave of heat that surges to his balls and cock as your knees lock around Osamu’s thick thighs and you cum so pretty, letting your face drop toward him with your eyes squeezed shut and your lips hung open. His back is still sticky from his run, but your fucked, little expression could have done the same. And then you tilt your head back to expose your branded throat where Samu buries his face, and your lashes flutter.

He’s touching his cock when you notice him, your eyes widening and you jump to hide under Samu more. Fuck, you’re so cute. Osamu is still fucking into you with hard snaps, wide back covering you mostly from view. “Samu nii, stop,” you mumble against his temple, “please stop, look!”

“I’m not fucking sharing this wet cunt,” he just grunts, and you try to push him off to no avail. Atsumu huffs as he walks closer, shutting the door behind him. At the click Samu looks up for just a moment, before frowning. “She’s mine. Fuck off.” Then he pushes himself up from you a bit to grab your tit and make you whimper. He’s at the bed now, and his knees almost give out at your glossy eyes and the sounds your cunt makes. The brunet holds his motion for a moment. “Yer welcome to use her mouth just this once, but ya make a move on her and I’ll kill ya.”

Your eyes droop a little when he slips his pants down his legs, but you don’t seem surprised. You know what kind of person he is, surely. So Atsumu wraps his hand around his leaking cock, kneeling next to your face as you sniffle. “Just put Tsumtsum nii’s cock into your mouth.” His thumb brushes past your lips. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.” He’s not bad, but he’s never pretended to be a saint. It’s your own fault for imagining him as one.

[seijohsfairy]

𝙸𝙼𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙰𝙻

In where your boyfriend likes watching you get fucked, and you are a bit too late to tell him that maybe it’s a bad idea. 

.word count. 2.8k .pairing. miya atsumu x fem!reader x sakusa kiyoomi .genre. smut (m), slightly angsty

tw cuckolding, tbh incel!omi, spit play, voyeurism, masturbation, praise vs. degradation, atsumu’s fingers (yes this deserves a warning, i’m obsessed), unprotected sex, possibly cheating-ish?

.author’s note. “I absolutely don’t thirst for Atsumu or Kiyoomi, don’t know what it is but I just don’t,” I say all bright eyed, you know, like a liar. Anyway, I don’t know how this happened either but I hope you enjoy it!

+

The first time was a once-off, you’d thought. You had been clingy all day, and your boyfriend had been so tired from practice. So he asked someone to help out for you, and that’d been that. No big deal. You’d been a bit surprised that of all people, he’d asked Miya Atsumu to do the job, but considering the setter’s long fingers had soon been stuffed deep into you it didn’t occupy your thoughts much. You’d all be going your separate ways anyways, you and your boyfriend back to your apartment, and Atsumu would stay in his own little world far enough away.

So when not three days later Atsumu was seated on your couch with a brilliant smile on his face, right opposite your significant other, it’d made you a bit cautious. From as soon as he’d gotten comfortable around you, Kiyoomi had liked prodding at your boundaries. Reaching at but never past ‘em. It made intimacy fun, made your heart beat and so you’d always been pretty open with his suggestions. But this had been difficult to grasp. “I want to try something new. I think you should let him fuck you,” he’d said, and you’d been able to close your gaping mouth just long enough to catch the intrigue in Atsumu’s eyes.

“W-What? But what about you, Omi?”

“I want to watch. If you’re comfortable with that. I think you’ll like it.”

Looking back, you had liked it. It made you feel desired, hot and flushed and it didn’t hurt that compared to your boyfriend, the blond loved showering you in endless praise. Telling you how pretty you were, how sexy your sounds and how great your touch. You had liked it once and twice, and with that, had learned to like his attention too. Slight touches brushing past your hand in public just made you feel like you had a secret of you three. But maybe you should’ve talked about it with Kiyoomi more than you did. Atsumu fucked you in front of your boyfriend more than he did himself after a while, and you started missing his touch. Any time you’d initiate something, he’d tell you to shower, and by the time you came out of the hot water Atsumu would be at the door to help you out.

“Yer a bit touch starved, aren’t cha? Pretty girl,” he’d whisper, pressing kisses to your crown when drawing you close. “I’ll make ya feel good, baby.” The more Atsumu came over, the less touchy Kiyoomi grew. But in daily life, he was the same man you’d fallen in love with, which made it so much harder to complain about the strange dynamic. He wasn’t touching you, but he seemed happy to stay on the sidelines and watch. And you were getting all the sex you could ever need, even if it wasn’t with your boyfriend. Maybe you should’ve talked about it more, but you’d been thrown into the dark so suddenly that it felt easy to cling to the strong arms wrapped around you every other day.

“Keep yer eyes right here, baby girl,” the lithe voice calls, fingers under your chin and aiming your face up. Atsumu hovers over you, pressing you back into the plush of the bed with his weight supported on his forearms. He presses a few kisses to your lips, giggling when you whine at his slow movements, before he trails his fingers down your naked chest and over your nipples. He’d been at this for quite a while, and you are definitely growing more impatient by the second. When you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck with another whimper, he tutts his lips. “Shh, pretty thing. Play nice.” He flicks his finger against your pointed bud as a punishment, before continuing his slow, meticulous movements a bit longer.

But you can tell even he’s getting testy. His fingers keep going back and forth between messing with your lips, your tits and your drenched panties, as if he can’t decide which of his toys to play with first. He smacks his lips before dropping his mouth to the swell of your breasts, starting to mark you up in the places the bruises of previous nights aren’t scattered. The warmth of his mouth leaving more obnoxious blots of color. Atsumu lifts his face from your skin for long enough to settle back between your legs, rutting his hardness against you with slow drags of his hips. “Stick yer tongue out for me,” he breathes, and as soon as you do he pinches it between his fingers to tug. “I’ll get ya nice and messy for me, don’tcha worry. Would’ya like that?” With your tongue still held out of your mouth, he peers down at you with those pretty browns for an answer.

Saliva builds up in your mouth as you breathe out, humming in reply. Always concerned about your pleasure first, he rolls his hips into yours harder. “Good.” He leans down to press a kiss on your tip of your tongue, and as messy and overly intimate as it is, you’ve long grown appreciative of all of it. Even if it makes you feel dirty, you savour the feeling. You’re more than happy to take it all if that means you’re being touched. You let your eyes drop closed when he lets go of your tongue, leaving it out still. Spit’s collecting in your mouth and going down your face, and the blond grunts like it’s the best sight he’s had in a while. “Keep it out, good girl.” He leans down to you again to lick up the length of your tongue, before he sucks on the wet muscle, moaning.

While he traces your tongue with his, his hands grab at your ass to drag you into him more, and you grind back on his slow motions to the best of your ability. His hard cock pushing exactly where you need it to, though you’d love it even more if he just gave up and fucked you already. Alas. When he pulls back to let you breathe, you frown at him and try to speak without disobeying his order. You compromise by pulling your tongue back but keeping your mouth mostly open. “You’re so nasty, ‘Tsumu,” you manage to mumble, swallowing some of your spit before you make more of a mess of yourself.

Atsumu just laughs, a soft, breathy one, burying his face into your neck. “Yer one to talk. Droolin’ all over yer own face.” He presses wet kisses to the expanse of your neck in between the words, leaning up to wipe some of the spit on your chin away with a thumb. “But ya look so pretty like that, ya know I can’t help myself.” He slowly pushes your tongue back into your mouth with one finger. Then he slides his hand back down your body to rub over your covered slit and to give a mind-numbing pressure on your clit. You groan at the feeling, both at his calloused fingers being used so well and at the way your wet panties feel on your skin. He’s quick to silence your noises with a proper kiss, lazy pulls of his tongue around yours and his lips melting to you in a perfect rhythm to drive you crazy. It still surprises you, how good his is with that loud mouth of his.

A soft click sounds through the room. You don’t have to look to know that your boyfriend is freshly showered, and will take his seat in the chair positioned right next to the window soon. Atsumu doesn’t allow you to tense up though, pulling back from your body to start shimmying your panties down your thighs. “Finally. Poor thing’s been wet for fifteen minutes.” You would’ve been able to start much sooner if he hadn’t insisted on a rule that you can only have sex from the moment the spiker is in the room, and not a second earlier. Hell, you would’ve been able to start much sooner if he didn’t want to watch you get fucked more than he wants to do it himself.

Kiyoomi gives only a soft sigh in response as he plops down in the chair, springs creaking. You open your eyes and are met with Atsumu’s adoring gaze, one which he keeps as he taps the sides of your hips. “Lift ‘em, please.” He takes off your panties and tosses them at the foot of your bed, before he finally uses those pretty hands on your dripping slit, working you perfectly. He swirls around your clit for a moment, dragging two digits up and down to slick them up and you’re already so worked up from all the teasing that this makes you shudder. He always is a dream when he gets to put his hands on you. His tongue peeks out between his lips when he glances between your bodies, focussing on every twitch and tug. He’s so pretty.

You take a moment to glance away though, meeting Kiyoomi’s calculated expression. His dark hair still damp, shirtless and slouched into the red chair, he regards you. His stare is blank. You can’t remember the last time he looked at you with genuine lust, but then again, you’re not sure he ever actually did. Even so it’s been months, you can barely remember what his touch feels like. The tenseness of dredging through the thick tar of your thoughts must follow through into your body, because Atsumu looks back up at you with a slight frown on his handsome face. “You okay?” You nod right when he slips in a finger and kisses you on the temple. “Yer so tense, baby girl.” The faint kisses down your neck and collarbones feel like heaven.

He rubs his thumb over your sensitive clit as he sucks and bites at both nipples. His long fingers curl inside you just right as soon as he adds a second and a third one, stretching you out. His fingers are so thick and strong, able to hit the right spot inside you every pump. And the added feeling of his breath on your wet chest, the weight of his body on you. You whine out his name, tangling your fingers in his hair as your back curls off the mattress. Atsumu grins, even with shut eyes you can hear it in his voice and you call for him again, the coil in your belly already winding tight. “Feels good?” he asks, giggling when you nod your head up and down without thinking. Yes, yes, he feels so good. He always does.

Your legs are spread wide apart, thighs trembling the longer his brutal pace continues on your body. “Ah— ‘Tsumu, I’m close.” Beads of sweat pool under your breasts, and you open your eyes long enough to catch the look on his face. There’s nothing there but devotion to bringing you pleasure. You couldn’t believe it when he fingered you the first time, and it’s still hard to believe now. Your body shudders at the sight. His thumb gives a particularly hard few circles on your clit, making your head spin. And his other hand is pinching at your tits, using his nail to flick over the peaked knob. It’s rough, but so good. “Uh, oh- p-please Atsumu,” you ramble, “‘Tsumu, wan’ cum. Wanna cum, please. Please.”

The squelching of your sloppy pussy fills the room, as Atsumu groans. “Yeah? Yer gonna cum all over my hand, huh?” The deep tremble of his voice feels deafening, you’re so close it’s almost painful. You pull him closer, wanting to feel him, his warmth, the smoothness of his skin, anything at all—

“Let her cum on your cock,” Kiyoomi orders, drawing your attention over. He has his hand wrapped around his cock, lubed up with lotion and jerking his wrist to slide over the pretty, pink head. The time you were allowed to do it for him seems distant. At the soft moan he lets out you fight the urge to call out his name, because that too isn’t allowed anymore. Something about breaking the immersion. You can’t help but think anyone would be hurt that the sound of your voice bothers him when he’s jacking off. Maybe you just sound gross— no, Atsumu loves hearing you. He could get off on your noises alone. And turning back to find reassurance in the man nestled tight between your legs becomes easier each time it happens.

You hold the immensely frustrated pleads that work up your throat to bite your bottom lip, instead just going along with it. There was a time where you’d have pleaded to let you cum, a time where he’d have his own fingers on and in you, where your begging actually meant something. But you know by now that the more you talk back, the less Kiyoomi allows you to receive. The blond seems almost as angry at the denial of your orgasm as you are, because the slight twitch of his brow stays. But as he stills his fingers, he curls them obscenely once more and presses his lips to yours. “Sorry princess, ya heard the man.” He then pulls the digits out of you to slip them into his own mouth, cleaning your juices from them with a lewd ‘pop’. He shoves his boxers down his thick thighs to expose himself, giving himself a quick few pumps.

“Bend back yer legs for me, pretty girl. I’ll make it up to ya.” He helps you lift your knees to your chest and runs the flushed, leaking head of his cock up your slit until he’s as wet as you are. Then he presses another kiss to your parted lips, and smiles into it. He pulls back with a low whisper, slowly starting to push in as he pushes out the words. “I love stuffing this pretty cunt. It’s mine.” The stretch feels so good, so so good and he’s so warm, you mewl as he sinks into you. And as you reach one hand back up to his shoulders to steady yourself on his big cock, the other searches out his touch. His long fingers tangle easily with yours, slotting perfectly together.

“Ahgh,” you moan at his first thrust, “so full. S’big, ‘Tsumu.” He leaves kisses all over your face as you get used to the overwhelming feeling of his cock, and you glance over for just a moment to the chair. Kiyoomi is dabbing at himself with tissues. You didn’t even notice he already came. You want to feel bad, you should have noticed, you should have— But then Atsumu switches out the slow draw of his hips for a faster rhythm and you’re gone from the world. You babble out his name and cling to him as the orgasm that was so cruelly denied earlier builds back to a peak, the heat in the pit of your stomach overflowing. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, ohfuckohfuckohfuck, Atsumu!” Your legs tremble, your walls squeezing around him so hard he can barely pull himself out enough to thrust. Black and white marks the edges of your vision.

You’re still far off from the world when you feel the setter’s lips on yours, but the vague words from your side filter in not too much later. Your boyfriend clicking his tongue. “You’re such a filthy slut, cumming all over someone who’s not even your boyfriend. You just need any dick to get off, tch.” You come down after that, feeling too hot but slightly cold as well. Atsumu pulls his hips back far enough to allow you a moment more to get back to yourself, before he touches your chin to draw your face back to his.

“Can ya do another, baby? I wanna give ya another.” It’s sweet. He’s sweet. You nod. So ever so slowly he starts back up, giving your sensitive body extra attention. You bury your face into his neck as he hovers himself back over you, his chest heaving up and down from the effort. “Yer so pretty. So good, so tight for me. Always so fucking tight for me.” You plant kisses there until Atsumu starts groaning out his words, your name over and over and you forget about the stinging gaze on the both of you. Maybe you should have talked about this with Kiyoomi more. No, you definitely should have. Then you wouldn’t be falling so hard for the guy your boyfriend brings in to fuck you when he can’t be bothered.

///

in this house we love and adore the miya twins equally and i don’t take criticism. he’s a fucking treasure, i will bop you on the head if you say anything different. anyway, this was my first time writing these boyos so i hope they’re not too ooc! thank you so much for reading, you’re all beautiful humans. (๑◕ㅂ▰)

[seijohsfairy]

𝙲𝚁𝚈𝙱𝙰𝙱𝚈

kawanishi taichi is too hot for his own good. yes, he is as much of an asshole as he sounds like in this,, but i swear i love him and I think you should too

.wordc. 2.5+ tw dubcon/noncon, blood, darcyphilia, drugs, public, gaslighting, spitting in mouth

+

“And that’s my old school over there,” you point, pulling your jacket a bit closer. You giggle as you walk side by side, having fallen in step next to him a while ago. When you split off from the other people and you both promised to get back safely, wobbling just a little on your heeled boots.

The caramel haired man chuckles when you bump into him again now, swinging an arm around your shoulder. The soft, sugary smell of his cologne is overruled by a much heavier smell of smoke, but you’re so happy when you’re pulled into his side anyway. And you’re definitely tipsy, but Kawanishi Taichi is too cool to be hanging out with you, so you bury your face into his side for how long he’ll let you. When you look up at him, he raises an eyebrow. “What?” you say.

“Nothin’,” he looks back to the abandoned streets around you, picking out the cigarette from between his lips and holding it between his fingers with a strange sense of dignity. You never tried growing up, never felt the need to get into it when others did. But he makes you feel like you miss it, miss him. It’s stupid, but this crush you have isn’t easy to shake. It makes you want to do stupid things. When his lips curl up at the end, you loop your arms around him and hide your face in his ribs. Your cheeks feel hot, you’re not sure if it’s the vodka or the entire situation.

“I talk too much?” you ask, feeling his body shake with another giggle. He barely seems affected by the drinks he threw back with you earlier, but it doesn’t matter right now. You feel good, a warm buzz lingering between your lungs.

“Yes,” Taichi immediately shoots back, looking down at you under his arm, “it’s just— constant. You’re just talking and talking and talking.” He laughs again, but you can’t help but pout a little. “I thought you were going to talk my ear off, you little chatterbox.” He squeezes you down and into himself a little more, as you pull your bottom lip into your mouth. He takes another pull from his cigarette, before tapping his finger on your cheek and blowing the smoke into your face when you instinctively look up. You cough, turning your head away from him a bit too late. You can’t make yourself pull away though. “I’m joking, don’t look so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” you mumble, trying not to sneeze. The smoke seems to have latched onto your eyes, tingling a little.

When you try to disconnect your intertwined fingers from around him, he grabs hold of them with one hand to keep you in place, raising an eyebrow at you. As if daring you to pull out of his warmth. You’re not brave enough to take the bait, and stay locked around him as your vision sways a little. After another pull, he clicks his tongue, looking back down. His beanie pushing his golden hair around his features like a halo. “You wanna have a pull, baby?” he coos, pressing a chaste kiss on the top of your head as he looks around to cross the street towards the next streetlight, pulling you on your dutiful feet with him.

The pet name makes your entire body warm. You’re moving towards your old school now, following the colorful shapes of the sign with your eyes. “What is it?” you ask.

“Weed and tobacco,” he just shrugs, holding it in front of your lips. When you hesitate, he smirks. “You’re not scared, are you, little girl?” Of course you’re not, you immediately think, taking the thing from between his long fingers to put it between your lips. It’s a bit warm, and you take a drag before you can make yourself doubt it. The smoke fills your mouth and lungs, hitting the back of your throat too hard and you have to hold a cough, but end up tearing up anyway. You cough as you blow out. “You’re so cute,” he says though, picking it back from your shaky hands. It’s chilly out, but your heart warms a little at the compliment.

“It’s a bit cold,” you mumble. Taichi hums in agreement and blows the smoke into your face again with a giggle, and this time you let him. Then he looks over his shoulder. The entire street is empty of course, there’s barely anything out here.

“Want me to get you warm?” he smiles. You instantly nod, feeling your entire face heat up when he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. It’s freezing out here, of course you want to get warm. The little kiss is too short, but still. Is it even possible to feel this lucky? When he notices your expression, he grins wider. “Aw, you little thing, you’re so lost huh?” And then, “let’s hop the fence here. I’ve got an idea.” Hop the— You turn to look into the abandoned playground of your school, some of the playsets a bit bleached from the sun, but familiar nevertheless.

How will that get you warm at all? But against your better judgement, the drunk voice in your head swears it’ll be fine. Fun, even. So you nod, and before you know it he has you on his back and balancing on his shoulders to get over into your old school. As you dangle half over, Taichi moves though, and you slip grabbing the points. You tumble over and land on your shoulder, having sliced your palm open in between the two metal spikes. “Aw!” you cry, looking at it with a wince. That’s gross. The wound isn’t that deep, but plenty of blood beads out, collecting into a line that runs down your arm.

The dark blond lands on his feet next to you, much more elegantly. He grimaces, before helping you up. “Ah, you clumsy idiot. What the hell was that?”

“You moved!” you pout, holding your bloody hand in front of you all pitifully.

“I didn’t fucking move, babe. You’re just a bit of a klutz.” He dusts off your arm from the gravel, before taking another look at your bleeding hand. He looks around the empty playground as you tear up at the sting, feeling it burn. The blood is the least of your worries, but it’s warm and sticky as it drops down your elbow, and you don’t have any tissues. At the call of his name, he turns back to you. His sharp eyes are suddenly darker, like a swirling storm. He has a frown on his face, but it doesn’t look like one of concern. And you open your mouth to say something, but you don’t know what.

Even if you weren’t swaying on your feet, this sudden change would shock you. He grabs you by the wrist and starts hauling you over to one of the small buildings. “Come, behind here.” You whimper a little as he drags you along, looking at the gash in disgust.

“Where are we going?” He tosses his dart down and stomps it out with his foot, before looking over his shoulder at you with a little smile. You pout though. “It really hurts.”

“Shh, be quiet,” he coos, only stopping once he has you behind the building. He looks down at you, mouth corners curling, before you’re being pushed to the floor under the weight of his body. He practically drapes himself over you and you land with a huff, holding onto him in surprise. Your body jerks away when he pushes your wrist to the floor, pulling automatically.

“Wh-” you whimper when he grabs hold of your other arm too, pinning your lower body between his legs with a grin. “Taichi, what are you doing?” You shake under him, kicking your feet. “Get off of me, this isn’t funny.” He’s too heavy to lift, and your struggle seems so pitiful. But then he takes your hand, your bloody hand, and pushes it against your cheek as you tear up. “Taichi!” You whimper at the nasty feeling of blood on your face, trying to spit out the part that got into your mouth. He grins wider when you start crying. “Stop! Get off, please!”

“Why,” he comes to hover his face over yours even though you must look gross, squeezing your bloody palm a little more. “You said you wanted me to get you warmed up, didn’t you?” When you stare at him with tears running down your cheeks, he tilts his head to make his point. “You did. I’m just doing what you asked.” You blank. Technically, yes- but of all the things you could’ve expected this wasn’t on the list. But you don’t think you have the right gears running in your brain to explain any of it to him, because you just go limp under him and sniffle.

“But the blood— it’s gross,” you whimper, freezing under him when he kisses you again. He opens your lips with his own and slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting like heavy alcohol and mint and something hazier. But he hums so softly into the kiss, and you’re so cold and he’s warm. You let him tangle his fingers with yours and kiss you under you’re breathless. He breaks away for just a second, before laying his long body on top of yours and slotting in between your thighs with his hips, strong arms holding him up above you to kiss you again and again. When he pulls his hands out of yours, they’re a bit sticky, most likely from the drying blood that now sits on his palm too.

You still have it on your cheek, so you try to use your sleeve to wipe it off, but he holds you back. “It feels gross,” you sob now, not sure why. Maybe it’s just that you’re feeling overwhelmed, that you can’t remember how to get back to the house without him. Maybe it’s that your entire body is telling you to try and fight, but you’re not.

“It’s not gross.” Taichi gets up from the floor onto his knees between your legs then, and runs his palms up and down your legs. “You look pretty. You’re very cute like this, you know? All pitiful and crying.” That he’s pointing out that your lashes are wet and the glistening tears slip down your temples only makes you feel more pathetic. Taichi wouldn’t cry if his hand got cut open, and the girls he likes probably wouldn’t either. But here you are, blubbering like a little child at the sting and the sight of some blood. His fingertips run up your thighs and waist to settle at the edge of your shirt, lifting it up a little. He smiles when you shiver at the touch, eyes widening some. “You’re gonna let me make you feel good, right?” he coos at you then, licking his bottom lip. When you don’t respond right away, he frowns. “I mean- you said so yourself.”

He takes his beanie off to run his long fingers through his fluffy tufts of hair, before using it to clean off his palm like your blood doesn’t bother him in the slightest. But you don’t really want to be here right now. You want to get cleaned up and get back into the heat. “I… I think we should go back.” You flush when Taichi’s face fills with distaste, looking at you like what you’re saying is outrageous.

“You said you wanted me to fuck you,” he says pointedly, shrugging off his jacket and placing it on the ground next to him. “We hopped the fence and everything, I could get arrested if anyone saw me helping you in here, you know?” He pats the jacket with his palm, as if that makes the thought of making love on a cold floor outside any better. But he’s still talking, and you’re too focused on the adrenaline running through you and the intensity of it all to understand what’s happening. “I was going to finger you and everything, so you wouldn’t be cold. And now you don’t want it?”

When he backs away from you, the cold is back, creating goosebumps on your skin. “I— just,” you try, sitting up and moving towards him to grab his soft fingers, “I just don’t remember… saying that. I don’t think I’d like that, I mean… what if someone sees?”

“Well, you did say it, I heard you say it. You must be drunker than I thought. First tripping, now you can’t even remember what you said to me.” He positions you to lay back on his jacket, before starting to fiddle with his belt. “I wouldn’t lie to you, right?” You pout, and nod, following the motions of his hands. The shape of his hardness is visible even through the heavy fabric of his pants, heat growing in the pit of your stomach. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have him. After all, you can tell how badly he wants you. And you did come out with all of his friends to a party to drink too much and get closer to him tonight, so you must’ve said it. When you reach your shaky, little hands over his to start fiddling with his belt yourself, he crawls back over you and presses a kiss to your temple. “It’s alright though, I’m here to take care of this dumb, useless, little crybaby.”

You start crying again as you slide out his belt, unable to help it. “I—” Taichi chuckles when he nuzzles his face into your neck, starting to kiss and nibble at the sensitive skin there. His one hand lifts your thigh so he can slot closer and rub his clothed cock against you through your pants, even this little bit of stimulation makes you slick. As you go through the motions and start zipping him down, he pulls back to look at you for a second with those pretty hazel-greens. “Am I really a crybaby?” you whisper, and he wipes a tear away from your cheek while nodding. “I’m sorry. I just-” you hick, warming up at his comforting touches down your sides and up your belly to expose your bra.

Every part of you is covered in goosebumps, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. And he agrees, because he rolls his hips against you again and smiles. “Shh, shh, it’s alright. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, sweetheart. I like it when you cry for me, you look so pretty.” With a tap to your chin to motion it open, he stares down at your pink, little tongue. Then he tilts his head a bit closer, and spits— onto your tongue. “There, swallow it,” he says, pushing your cheeks closed and you shake your head, but listen anyway. You don’t want to swallow his warm spit, but then you also don’t want him to think you’re a crybaby. “You gonna let me fuck your pretty pussy, right? Right here in the open, pretty girl?”

And you immediately nod your head when he releases your face from his grip, allowing him to shove up your bra along with your bunched shirt. “Good girl.” He pinches your peaked nipples a few times, before sitting up so he can shove his pants down his thighs and pump his pretty, flushed cock between his fingers. Your pussy clenches at the sight, making grabby hands already to have him back to you. “Here, lift your hips,” he nods then, and pulls them down without hesitation, even though your thighs shake. Your panties are ruined already, much like your makeup, and you feel good about it. Despite all common sense, you want this. Want him more than anything else.

“Hurry, Taichi,” you mumble, blinking away your tears as he stares at your exposed body.

“You know,” he huffs then, lining himself up with you. He looks you straight in the eyes as he rests his much larger body onto yours, and smiles. “I think I like seeing you bleed a bit too much. Maybe I’ll cut you down here too, huh?” Then he stuffs inside and you hiss at the sudden feeling of being stretched wide open. He’s so big, so deep inside you you feel like you could black out any second.

And though you know you shouldn’t, you nod, whimpering when he kisses you hard. “Yes, please. Wanna be good for you,” you say.

Taichi smiles at your cute answer, pulling out all the way until only the fat tip of his cock remains in your clenching hole. “You will be.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝙰𝙱𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴

Semi Eita has an attitude problem and it starts with you. But you are the one he ends his day with too, and maybe you can convince yourself that’s enough.

thank you so much miki @/undermattsun please go adore her skate rats like I do if you haven’t yet

.wordc. 1k+ tw dubcon (high), smoking, unhealthy relationships, semi-public, degradation

+

If anything should have tipped you off on what kind of day it would be, it should have been the way you walked in and almost choked on the thick waft of smoke being blown your way. A heavy tobacco smell that you’re not familiar with, and a wide, gleaming grin behind the white curtain as you shake it away with your hand. Yamagata gives you a quick up and down, before smiling wider and throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Yo, Semi! You got company!” He moves aside a bit more to usher you inside, even though you have plenty of room to move past him. As you walk further into the warm, somewhat musty room, Yamagata has the indecency to smack your ass when your back is turned to him, just lifting his slit eyebrow when you squeak. “Good to see you here again, pet.”

And if that, or the way some of the others are demanding payment for their correct bets, wasn’t clear enough, you definitely should have known when you plop down across from Eita on the couches and he’s drawing mindless circles into the bare back of some other girl, her top only covering the front by some help of the fraying spaghetti straps. You’re not against games, you’re not, but three weeks of almost total silence and the occasional mass ‘share my mixtape’ message isn’t much of a game. You hate how jealous you feel watching his long digits paint invisible wonders on skin, someone’s skin that you know doesn’t matter to him in the end. But you should matter, and he’s damn good at pretending you don’t. Some of the other people fill the couch next to you, leaving you squished between the too-hot body of a splayed out Kawanishi, and Tendou, who’s deodorant is sprayed on so heavy it’s making your eyes water.

You prop your feet on the coffee table and slump back when Eita sends you another pointed look, ignoring the way he tickles his fingers down her thigh as he leans down to grab one of the clean bongs. Instead you focus yourself on the caramel blonde to your side, bumping him with your elbows and holding out your fingers in a pinching gesture. “Pretty please?”

He snorts, and hands his blunt over after taking another deep pull, blowing it to the side as he leans his elbows on his knees. The way dark eyes keep roaming over your exposed skin from across the small table doesn’t bother you as much when you can focus on someone’s company you also enjoy.

Tendou swings his arm around both you and the girl squeezed to his other side at some point during the next hour, you don’t notice much of it. All you know is that you’re curled up against Taichi with a warmth in your skull and a sticky, cotton-like feeling lifting your body. Your legs tucked up over his and the giggle against your cheek feeling good. “Yeah? And how long would that be?” he drawls out, chin tilted back a little to look at you through half-lidded eyes.

“We’ve been best friends since— well… forever,” you respond after a few beats, swaying a little with the music in the room. “But I don’t like him lately.” You look back at Eita when you hear him laugh, the one he only does when he’s smoked a few rounds and his eyes can’t truly focus on anything anymore. But it’s loud and wide and it splits his face in such genuine enjoyment that you can’t help but stare any time he does it. Just a pity the girl is sucking dark blots on the side of his neck while he rants to Ushijima about something, hearing Tendou and some of the girls quip in too. As if feeling your eyes on him, he rolls his head back and your way again, peeking out the tip of his tongue and leaving the glistening muscle out for long enough it starts looking like the only thing you want. In, on, surrounding you. Then he pulls it back, making the black jewel disappear along with it, and gives you another up and down like you’re the one in the wrong here.

The dark blonde beneath you grins wider when you turn back with a scowl, barely chewing on his answer. “Maybe you should move on to someone who’ll treat you, then.” It’s just what you want to hear, you know this just as well as he does, but you can’t help but consider the promise of attention, even if you know that Taichi is just as bad as his own close friend. Your close friend, the one you’ve been head over heels with since you were old enough to realize it, the one who used your free-to-grab feelings as a cleaning wipe for his issues.

You huff, but brush a finger over his lips when he picks out the dart from between them. Taichi’s eyes flick back up to yours, then to Semi, then back to you. He grins. “Need someone to make you forget, pretty girl?”

Before you get the chance to answer, luckily for you and your useless, cotton-filled brain, there’s bangs at the door. Reon, Goshiki and not much later Shirabu all walk in differing levels of drenched, dropping their boards next to the shoes. They must’ve gotten caught in the rain when returning, and considering the eldest’s pointed expression, they probably kept skating despite his protests. You stand from the couch with a little sigh and stretch your limbs above your head, humming softly. Taichi’s hand is on your ass to keep you upright, thumb slipping out of the pocket where he had buried it earlier. “I’ll go get ‘em some towels,” you say, shuffling past the sets of feet with careful, somewhat clumsy movements.

As you go, you send Eita a quick glance. He has his shirt unbuttoned way too low, exposing part of one of his tattoos. The golden necklace you got the asshole for his birthday falls between his pecks, reminding you again what a horrible idea this was. You’re a glutton for torture. Still, as you walk you feel the wetness grinding your panties to your center, remembering the way he likes fucking into you until you’re a blubbering mess. He’s a menace, but you’re the idiot that keeps running back. And you won’t take his bullshit next time, is what you promise yourself, every time you end up on your hands and knees for your once-best friend.

You wobble walking up the stairs, the old wood creaking obnoxiously with each step. The shits are so old someone will break through them one day. As you flick on the lights with the back of your hand and bend down to sort through the messy cabinet tucked into the wall, a soft glow starts to build over you again, seeming to burn through your bones. You turn with the towels in hand, only to be slammed against the wall. The harsh movement knocks the wind out of you, but the eerily vacant, dark expression is what keeps you in place. His hold is lazy anyway, like he couldn’t care less if you wanted to run. “Having fun being a dumb, insensitive slut?” he mouths, barely reaching over the noise downstairs.

Your lips crack open to answer, but you remain frozen. Your every fiber seems to wiggle happily at his touch, his attention, and you arch your back so your chest can brush up against him. It’s childish, it’s desperate, and you don’t care because his lips hover over yours and he growls lowly into your mouth. “You had plenty to say so where are your words now, huh?”

He kisses you, pressing his mouth against yours hard and rough and taking your tongue like he always owned it in the first place. Drowning you in him and forcing his air down your throat when you try to pull away for air. You try to shove at his chest, but your traitorous fingers curl into his shirt to pull him closer instead, and he reaches to grab your thigh and yank it to lock around him. There his fingers stay for a while, digging in and creating marks. Eita isn’t soft with you, chooses not to be, it’s infuriating. Because you know better than anyone he can be, and does it well.

When he urges your head back by pulling at the hair on the base of your skull, finally disconnecting his mouth from yours, you whine. The rest of you stays molten together, chest and thighs and his hard-on in between your legs where it should be. “Gonna take this fat cock right here where anyone can see?” You can’t think right, immediately nodding at his question. Anything. Anything he’s willing to give. “Yeah? My pretty pet wants it so bad, how sweet. Maybe next time I’ll just take you on the couch then. Bet you’d let me do that too, show off that slutty cunt for everyone to see.”

“Whatever you want, Eita,” you whine, rolling your hips against him as you keep slicking up your panties.

“You’re so fucking desperate for me. I love ruining you,” he’s already messing with the zipper of your jeans and pulling them down before you can think about what you just said. “I’ll fuck you nice and brainless, baby. And we’ll let your friend watch, sound good?” His long fingers dip into your underwear at once, groaning a little at your dripping slit for him already. ”Maybe Goshiki too, he loves licking up his senpai’s sloppy seconds from dumb, horny pets like you.”

Then he shoves his pants down to expose himself, dropping your thigh so he can give himself some messy pumps and spread his beads of precum around with his thumb. The somewhat aware part of your brain reminds you ‘condom’, but knowing Eita he’d find some excuse to take it off anyway. So you let him line himself up and grin, looking over his shoulder at the stairs for a moment in fear before he slides inside too fast. He still stretches you to the edge, bottoming out with a loud grunt. “And be loud, fucking whore, make them hear it. I bet a hundred bucks on this dripping cunt.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙵𝙸𝚃

Bokuto has a big personality, and an even bigger body. All you can do is try your best to take him whole and make sure you’re his good girl. day 06 of kinktober

tw size kink, branding, oral (receiving), insecurities, squirting, subspace, soft to hard dom, little bit of blood .wordc. 3.5k

Your eyes flick down in embarrassment as he spits on your pussy, before he’s rubbing his thumb back in your mess of slick and spit, rolling your oversensitive clit again and again. “Don’t worry, we’ll go slow,” he smiles encouragingly when catching your eye, dipping back down on his knees so pull your ass a bit further off the bed. His face is back between your legs for the nth time today, pointed tongue flicking between your swollen lips and rubbing up to your clit. You close your eyes again, and hold onto the bed sheets with tight fists. As encouraging as your amazing boyfriend is to you, you feel bad. Because you feel undeserving when you still struggle to take him every time.

It takes so much prep, and you have to go so slow, but Bokuto just is that big. The first time you ended up in bed together you made an excuse and left because you got so spooked, though he’d made you want to stick around after another two dates anyway. Because Bokuto is lovely.

He’s an amazing boyfriend and you two fit together so well that you can’t even imagine breaking up without tearing up. You love him. Which is also why you feel so frustrated, since your body just seems too small for him to fit into. He’s big in everything he does and with every part of his being, and that also counts for his huge cock. “Feel good, little bunny?” he asks, licking up some of the wetness around his lips with an obscene smack.

But you stay quiet for a moment to collect your thoughts, already thinking back to yesterday. You had tried and failed miserably to take him, and though Bokuto would never say it, you have to assume that he’s getting fed up. When his hands spread your thighs a little more, you take your bottom lip into your mouth, humming so softly it could go unnoticed. His breath on your wet pussy is enough to have you clenching around nothing. But then you feel a soft kiss further down your thigh, and another one at your knee, his hands sliding up and down the sides of your legs so softly. You open your eyes to see your boyfriend watching you with a small smile, understanding pooling in his eyes.

“Baby,” he says, kissing along your shin and ending up at your ankle, peppering kisses there where he rests your foot on his shoulder. “My sweet, little bunny. You have to talk to me, y’know.” You take in his entire shape at the side of the bed for a moment and shiver. Your boyfriend, on both knees flushing and thick thighs still covered in his boxers. This huge man who has the kindest expression on his face when watching you, spread wide open for him. You feel undeserving, even though you know Bokuto doesn’t think like that. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m perfectly content making you cum like this and—”

“I want to more than anything, Koutaro, but it’s always so overwhelming,” you whimper softly, looking up at the ceiling against the oncoming tears. “And you’re gonna get fed up with me and find someone else and—”

“Woah, woah, hey, silly girl,” he moves from the ground to come hover over you, lifting you by your waist and sliding you back onto the bed. So easily, it only reminds you more of how strong and safe he is, and you automatically wrap your arms around his neck. His kisses come softly at first, your lips and tangling with your tongue and a moan. He tastes entirely like you, but you don’t mind. Then he pulls back to brush his fingertips along your cheek. “Listen. You’re perfect for me, alright? You take me so well, and you’re always so pretty for me when you do.” You pout at that, closed eyes still letting some wetness slip. “Hey, look at me,” he says, and when you don’t, “little one, look at me now.”

You follow his order to be met with those perfect, golden eyes, his body hovering over you by resting on his forearms. “Don’t you believe me when I tell you that I love you?” You shake your head and play with the soft hairs at the base of his neck to calm yourself a little. ‘I do’, you mouth. He nods. “So take my word for it then. I love this pretty body. I love wrecking your tiny cunny too, and I love watching you struggle to take me.” He kisses you again, then sits up. “You want to stop for tonight?”

“No,” immediately you sit up, grabbing at his hand and pulling it back to your body. “Please, I want you. I want to feel you, Kou, please.” A small whine comes from your throat when he giggles, your eyes looking wide and rimmed with tiny, glistening tears. “Was just frustrated with myself,” you mumble. He smiles in understanding, before sitting down so he can scoot back against the headboard.

“Come on then,” he coos, patting his thick thigh encouragingly, “you little thing.” You peek out your tongue to wet your lips, feeling your slick even on your thighs and getting cold in the open air. You’re definitely prepped enough to try, at least. He places his big palms either side of your waist, grinning when you shiver. “You like that huh, bunny? Being so small compared to me. I know you do,” he pulls you closer so you can settle your legs, with some strained effort, around his. The bulge in his boxers is almost criminally big, and you know from memory that he’s not even totally hard yet. “You always get this glint in your eye when I make you say it.” You lower onto his clothed bulge with a whimper, his hard cock slotting between your thighs so perfectly. “So say it.”

“Yes, I love being your little bunny. I love taking your cock, even if it’s too big for me.” Your words are a little rushed, but your attention is entirely on the way you drag your hips up and down him, and how good it feels. “Koutaro, I want to have you inside,” you say. He nods, and presses a few kisses to your lips and neck.

“I know. Gonna let me stretch you out?” Your head bobs instantly, shivering again when his large palms slide up your thighs to knead your ass between his fingers. You hope he leaves marks that will stay. You carefully dip your fingers around the edge of his boxers, peeling it away from his body. The flushed head of his cock is a pretty pink, sticking to the wet patch of his boxers from how long he’s been at it already. You don’t allow yourself to feel bad this time, just anticipating all of him as deep as he can go and clenching for him. “This fat cock is all yours, little one. Doesn’t that make you happy, huh?”

“Yes, I love your cock so much. It’s so big.”

He slides one of his hands between you to stuff his fingers in again, scissoring your gummy walls open for him another last time. Then he uses your slick to slip his tip in and out of his fist a few times, groaning softly. “Yeah? Come sit on it then,” Bokuto mumbles, as you rub his thick head between your legs and over your puffy clit, “we’ll go at your pace.” He holds onto your hips with a tight grip, as you lower yourself onto him. Even just the first inch is a wide stretch, and you have to set your knees further apart as you hold onto his shoulders. You bite your lip, lashes flicking up and down at the sting, and you can’t help but whine his name. “Gentle, be gentle,” he says, pressing his mouth to yours again.

You slide down a little more with each deep breath, being stretched open even wider. His warmth, the press of his inside you, it all feels so good. You moan into his mouth, trying to roll your hips on his too-big cock head. The pain of the stretch is easy to push aside when he groans out your name. You drop your face forward and blow out slowly, digging your fingers into his muscles. Even if you tried you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet, the whines slipping from you without your control. Your thighs burn from the strain, but you want him so bad. He’s so big that even the veins on the underside of his cock are enough to have you moaning and crying for him. Entirely being spread open for him, the warm glow in your belly traveling up your veins. When he’s in halfway, you glance up at him though your tears, your walls fluttering around him without aim. It doesn’t feel like you’ll ever get him in all the way, his cock is still getting thicker and you’re already spread so thin.

But your boyfriend looks heavenly. Blissed out, even though you’re nowhere near taking him all. “Koutaro,” you say, and his pretty eyes find yours immediately, “I want to- t-take more. Please.”

“You’re so fucking tight, bunny,” he grunts, one hand leaving your waist to tilt your face towards him. “Come here.” He motions your face to the side with his nose to kiss you more deeply than before, pulling you closer to his warm chest. You slip lower too sudden, crying into his mouth at the stretch. Fuck, you feel like you’re about to rip apart. But you want him all, you need him to fill you to the brim. Disconnecting your mouths, he looks down between your bodies at the way your little slit is stretched around his huge cock, and moans. “I don’t know if you can take any more, baby.”

“No,” you squeak, “no, I want it. I want it, please, Kou. Please, give me more please.” Your legs are trembling now, able to give out any moment. Your entire body feels weak, like you’re using every muscle to just take him inside. The silver haired man grunts at your persistence to take him all, but eventually nods. It’s just so cute how badly you want it, want him. He could never deny you and your teary eyes when looking so pretty and desperate for what belongs to you.

“Want me to help you?” You nod, taking his large hand and wrapping yours around two of his thick digits, your other hand finding purchase on his toned stomach.

“Yes, please. I can take it, I can be good for you,” you babble, staring between your bodies. It’s so hard to think of anything else when he feels like he’s about to break you open. “I can be your good girl, Kou. Please make me take it all.” That’s all he needs to lift you from him a little, groaning at the way your clenching hole spasms around him, before letting you back down. The fit is impossibly tight. Your breasts heave up and down with your laboured breathing, and he drops his face back to your neck and chest to slot his mouth there.

“Good girl, agh— fuck, my good, little bunny,” he mumbles, sucking hickies into your soft flesh. With each gentle roll of his hips, his cock digs deeper inside your wet cunny, like it’s carving it’s shape into you. He’s so deep you feel like you can’t even breathe, but it feels so good. So, so good. You cling onto your boyfriend with the last bit of strength you have, placing little kisses on his peck and sucking at the skin too.

“Kou, s’big, too big,” you whimper, “wan’more. You’re so big, Kou.” At this point, you probably don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, which makes him chuckle.

“I’m gonna lay you down, alright?” he huffs before you give a vague hum of agreement. Grabbing your hips tight, he lifts you a little to make sure he doesn’t slide too deep too quickly, and topples you over onto your back with him on top. Your cute, little mouth hanging open and glistening with your spit, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s barely fucked you, and you look devastated in the best way. It really does swell his chest with pride. “My little bunny, taking me so well. Look at you, baby, you look like you’re gonna cum already.”

You nod your head a bit crooked, eyes fluttering open again to grab for hair at the base of his skull, and hum softly. “Gon’ cum, wanna—” Your useless little body shifts a little when he pulls out again, sliding back in and reaching the very end of your cunny with still more to fit in. Your clenching so tight around him and sobbing with pleasure, his cock big enough to hit every part of you perfectly. “Kou, please,” you beg again, breathing hard as he slides in again. He smiles as he kisses your parted lips, feeling your little tongue on his. ‘Cum,’ he demands, brushing his fingertips over your clit just once. And your body immediately follows, clenching so tight around him he feels a bit lightheaded. “Fuck, mhm-holy shit.” You whimper and cry and moan out all kinds of unintelligible curses as you cum around his fat cock, tears slipping down your temples. “Ah- aah Koutaro, love how big you are. Wan’more.”

“More?” he asks as he brushes his thumb over your lip, pulling out as soon as your grip on him loosens a bit, pushing back in to press at your cervix. As bad as he knows it to be, it’s so tempting to try and over-stuff you, but your belly is already bulging. “You want me to really fuck this pretty cunt, hah?” Your response is a dozen slurred mumbles of ‘yes’, as you arch your back to brush your tits to his chest. You’re so tiny under him, it really is impressive that you take him this much. That you love him this much. “You sure?” You nod, smacking your lips. In response he smiles, and kisses you again. “Alright, hang on, pretty thing.”

Then he pulls out until only his tip remains inside, and slides back into the very brim. You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders now, as he sets a pace that has you seeing heaven. In and out, hitting every part of your walls on the way, hip bone hitting your clit with each pump. “Hnng- Kou, Kou, Kou, can’t—”

“You can, and you will,” he hisses, looking between your bodies to watch his own cock bulge your stomach out. “Doing so well, little one. So good to me.” You can’t even feel your toes anymore, since all your feeling seems to be on the way your walls are being battered into by his length that doesn’t seem to belong inside you.

“Kou, gon’cum. Stop— Koutaro.” He lifts your one leg with ease to shift his cock inside to hit even further, each hit on your puffy nub too much. “I’m- ah, ah aaahng please Kou, pleasepleaseplease.” Your vision blacks out before you can feel the waves of pleasure roll over you, again and again and your thighs squeeze so hard you feel them cramp up. Your toes pointed and back arching off the bed, you spill all over his cock. He has to pull out with how hard you’re cumming and fucks his cock into his hand, watching as all your wetness gushes out and onto his lap and thighs. You’re still trembling, but he just has to push in again to fill you up with his cum.

“Holy fuck, baby, you just squirted all over me,” he rests his forearms next to your head and you grab onto his biceps like a lifeline, as he thrusts in and out again. Even laying down like this, you’re bounced on his cock, feeling is cock so deep it feels like he’s fucking the air out of your lungs. “Take my fat cock like that, little bunny.” He grunts and growls into your ear as he plows in between your legs, his balls smacking against your skin and chest dripping sweat onto yours. “Beg for what you want from me.”

“Ah, ah,” you swallow and shake your head, “too much. Koutaro, please, cum inside.” You’re not even making sense anymore. As much as he wants you to look at him while he’s fucking you stupid, he knows there’s no way you have it in you right now. So he settles for yanking your legs up even higher to your chest and pushing into you like that, as your mouth hangs open and small breaths come out. You clench around him still, but your poor, raw cunny is too fucked out to put nay strength behind it, and the weight of him on you is enough to drive you onto him again and again until he grunts again. So close. “Wan’everyone t’know,” you manage to say, before biting your lip so hard he’s scared you’ll bite through it.

“You want everyone to know who you belong to?” You nod wildly again, and he has to force his tight grip on the sheets loose to look around. “Gonna let me put my name on you then?” he groans, and you almost give out right there and then.

“Yes, Kou.” Your voice is barely a squeak, like he’s fucked that out of you too. “Anything you want. Anything,” your little hands squeeze harder around his biceps, your poor body too gone to do much else. “Wanna be good for you. Please, please. Ah- s’big.”

So he grabs at the pair of scissors on the bedside table and uses one of the ends to push it into the inside of your thigh as you whine and jerk under him, to scratch his initials into your skin. Not hard enough to break the surface, but enough that tiny red spots appear between the raw lines. “There,” he grunts, “you’re mine. Your little cunny is mine, your noises are mine and your pretty expression sure as hell is all mine too.��� Then he pumps into you like mad until he has to hold you still under him from overstimulation. “Gonna cum.” You turn into a sobbing mess of agreements again, tits bouncing with each hard thrust, even faster and harder while you feel him flex. “Fuck, baby,” he moans, and then falls still as he whines.

His hot cum filling you up so full, like your stomach will explode. The pressure is just too much, and you pound your little fists on his chest desperately. “Kou, pull out,” you beg, “s’too much.” He lets up a little when he’s filled you all the way, slowly pulling out to watch your little hole gush with his white. He grabs your both wrists in one hand to keep you from acting out more, before he sits back on his heels with a deep sigh. After a while of catching his breath, he lets out a noise of contentment, just watching the way your ruined cunny flutters. He only moves to drop his face to your swollen tummy to lay kisses there, pressing his fingers into it to urge his cum back out. The kisses turn into sucking and biting, but you just lay and take it, already knowing the marks will be on your skin for weeks.

Bokuto glances up at you for a second when you coo out his name, with your tear-ridden face and your sleepy expression, before smiling. You always look so perfect for him. He licks his thumb and wipes it over the swelling skin of his initials, then hums. “Good?”

“Good,” you slur, still trying to come back to earth. Koutaro chuckles when you make grabby, little hands for him to return to you, even though it’s too warm and you’re definitely going to push him off later.

So he presses a kiss to your lips, and sits up. “I’m just going to get something to clean you up, okay? Don’t fall asleep yet.” You hum in response, but you’re just so tired. He knows you, knows that you will if you’re not forced to move. So he slots an arm under your body and lifts you up against his strong body, sitting you up with your face against his stomach, breathing softly. “I’m gonna make you cum again for being so good to me, little one,” he promises though, hoping you’ll stay upright for just a second to go get a wet towel. “I love you, bunny.”

“Love you too, Kou,” you say, reaching up to brush your hand under your eyes. And you do. You really, really do.

[seijohsfairy]

𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝚂 𝙳𝙸𝙴

tetsuro nii isn’t the clingy type, he probably despises it too. but you’re so lovable that it makes his resolve slip every single day. what’s a man to do then? ♡ commission for the lovely, amazing @/rocorambles ♡ thank you so much my love, it was so nice to get to write a meanie again, i hope you enjoy

tw incest, dubcon, gaslighting, coercion, choking, tetsu is kinda mean, puppygirl!reader .wordc. 2.5k+

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You try your best to be sweet. Loving, though sometimes your attempts must be a bit clingy, if the glares your niichan sends you are anything to go by. You just can’t help it, you feel best when you’re tucked up to his side and resting your face on his lap, getting your head pat.

Tetsuro being the golden boy, the sibling every friend talked about. He was the smart one with all the friends and the promising future, and you were always just his baby sister. Nothing more than a footnote at the end of his long list of exploits, it seemed. You never minded, as long as you got to be in his presence. You could still bounce with joy any time he gives you attention, because he doesn’t make it easy.

He’s proud of being the older, more accomplished one, and he put in a lot of hard work to earn that title. He deserves it. But sometimes you do wish he wouldn’t bite down on the fact that you admire him so much, rubbing it in at every turn.

The door clicks as he enters, and your heart already warms at the sound. “Niisan!” You race into the hall to wrap your arms around his big, muscular body, squeezing a bit tighter when he tries to shake you off. A huff falls from him at your affection, kicking off his shoes. You pay it no mind.

You know how he thinks of you, calls you his stupid, clingy little sister to Kenma sometimes. But you have no other choice when you’ve had to miss him the entire extended weekend. “Finally you’re home, you were gone so long.”

He jams two fingers into his necktie to loosen it and shakes you off with the other arm, as you gently drop your arms from him. “Move.” His voice is low, eyes narrowing when you back up a few steps, your heart still beating fast. Any little sister would be excited, wouldn’t they? You can’t help but linger, blinking as you take in the small frown digging between his eyebrows. “I’m serious, give me some space,” he grunts out, and this time you listen.

Lately you’ve been getting on Tetsu nii’s nerves a lot. You haven’t been doing anything different, but every touch you give him, as small as the little pecks on his cheek you’ve been giving him for years and years bother him now. You’d stop, you would, if you weren’t so painfully touch-starved.

Even if he shoves your head off his shoulder or pulls your hair when walking past sometimes, you know that Tetsuro nii doesn’t hate you. Or he never would’ve offered you to live with him, right?

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It’s late when the knock comes to the door of your room, but you’re still quick to slide out of bed. You step aside, looking up at him and softly following behind when he tosses himself onto your bed, then sit too. Your thin, frilly shorts ride up a little, but you’re preoccupied. “Niichan, can we cuddle?” You can’t help the pout or the whimper when he remains unmoving, so you crawl a bit closer. “Tetsu nii, please? I really missed you.”

Your sentence is interrupted by a pout, as you snuggle into his side ever so carefully. You don’t want to make him get up again. “No.” Tetsuro cracks open one eye when you rest your face on his pecs and slump into his side like a blanket anyway, and groans. “You’re such a crybaby,” he mumbles, exposing his teeth with a grimace when he pushes you off by your face and you cling on tighter. He pushes two fingers against your forehead again, but you shrug them off and wrap your legs around his thigh, whining.

“‘M not, just wanna stay with you, niichan!”

“But I don’t want you to.” His grin only grows wider the longer you hold on. He rolls you over to push your head back into the blankets with one hand and your tummy with the other, before getting on top of you. “You’re so obsessed with me.” You grab at his shirt and cling on as his grin falters, wetness tickling your lash line at how mean he’s being. “What? Gonna cry? Aw, is the little puppy going to cry because she can’t get what she wants?”

Another small whimper comes from you when his hand moves from your head to your throat instead. Instinctively you let go of his shirt, shifting when the fingers tighten on the sides of your neck. His grin grows wider when you still, breathing shallow when he leans his much larger body onto you to press you down into the plush, his face now hovering closer. You’ve wrestled Tetsu nii before, but this, this is new. The way his lips part and he licks them, putting his knees either side of your body, that’s different.

Grip hard and tight around your throat, and the glimmer in his eyes sharp enough to stall your breathing even more. “Tetsu nii,” you whisper, eyes wide when he ghosts his lips over yours and makes a small noise of contentment when you shrink under him. The curl to his lips vindictive, he presses them to the corner of your mouth.

“Not so noisy now, are you, my little pup? What’s wrong, hm?” His other hand trails up your ribcage, lifting your shirt inch by inch as you clench your eyes shut, his bright irisses too blown out, hungry. His voice drops as he whispers words against your lips that you can barely pay attention to. “Scared of what your bad big brother might do to you?”

“Niichan,” you move to press a hand to his shoulder, “stop. We can’t.”

His hand loosens on your throat, but only to grab a fistful of hair at the base of your skull instead, his hips now against yours and the soft rolls of his waist to yours painfully distracting. “Why? So you can play with me whenever you want to but now I want to you’re telling me ‘no’?” His breath mingles with yours, lips still almost pressed against yours, brushing them each time you shift. “Don’t be so dramatic, it’s no big deal. You don’t know what you want.”

The sharpness of his voice makes your lashes flutter, and you look back up at him. “Tetsu nii, I just—” a gasp breaks through your words when the weight of his body on you is shifted, now fully pressing his hard cock to your pussy through your clothes.

Each brush, each push into you makes your tummy tighten, you can’t help it. Even if you know this is weird, wrong even, it feels good. So warm and close, this is probably the closest he’s ever been to you when you’ve asked to cuddle. It messes with your brain, gives you tingles. He knows just as well as you do that this isn’t supposed to happen between siblings, right?

Not the kissing, no holding of hips- not this needily, possessively- and no hungry fingertips playing up your stomach into your bra. But he doesn’t care. “We can’t do this,” you try again, ignoring how he pinches a nipple, rolling the bud. Small touches that make your entire skin feel like it’s glowing. “It’s wrong.” Your voice gives out before you even get to finish, going soft and desperate. He ignores you.

“Everyone thinks you’re a terrible sister, you know that, right?” he mouths, as his lips drag down your face along your jaw, then kissing down your neck. You don’t have to believe him. You don’t have to agree. But your stomach sinks anyway, tears welling up more as his pinched hold squeezes tighter. Your mouth drops open because of it, soft noises coming from you, from him, each time his hips rub right up to your sensitive pussy. “But I always tell them you’re not.”

The words come through slowly, making your eyes flutter back open to watch him. It’s true that Tetsuro was always everyone’s favorite, but— what did you do to make them think that way? It must be true, Tetsuro never lied to you before. He’s a good person, even though you bother him so often. The wetness in your eyes beads up at the corners, before running down your temples.

“I’m sorry, niichan.” Your voice is barely audible over the rubbing of the fabric or the soft noises he makes. There’s a hum, but he doesn’t pull away from you just yet. Open mouth kisses littering your throat, where he licks and bites down while you squirm. Sucking so hard, like he’s trying to give you a hickey. Your arms fall limply next to your body as he works. Niichan angles his hips until your voice comes out and you moan at the feeling, then pulls away from you.

“It’s the least you can do, and besides, you asked for this. I’m just giving you what you want.” His hand tightens in your hair until you wince. “You said you wanted it.”

But— you didn’t. You wouldn’t have, it’s wrong. No matter how much you love your big brother, you never said anything like that. Right? You shake your head, as Tetsuro’s expression turns icy. “No?” Your mouth is dry, heavy breathing suddenly stopping in your throat. His lips are flushed and swollen, cheeks a little rosier than normal, but his angular eyes are too dark and sharp. He looks like an animal ready to jump for your neck, his mouth corners quirking back up almost as quickly as they fell.

He clicks his tongue. “You did. Are you gonna tell me I imagined all of that, yeah? Why are you lying to me?” The sentences come quick, almost too quick for you to follow, as he glares down. His wide, muscular chest rises and falls rapidly under the black dress shirt, and he moves his jaw back and forth as he thinks. “Don’t you love your niichan?”

“Of course I love you,” your bottom lip wobbles pathetically as you try to wrap your arm around his neck. You don’t want him to leave, it’s all just a big misunderstanding. “I love you so much, Tetsu nii.” His eyebrows only get more furrowed at your touch, your tears. His hand pulls away from your body too quickly, before he pushes your arm off too. His warmth leaves you so soon, bringing goosebumps to your wet, exposed skin.

“Should’ve known you couldn’t do it, I don’t know why I even tried. You don’t love me at all.” As he crawls off the bed, you panic, struggling up and wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can.

“I do, I swear,” you press your forehead between his shoulder blades and wait, but he doesn’t say anything. “I’m sorry, niichan. Please don’t be mad at me.” The longer the silence continues, the more pressing the desperation gets, and you squeeze your eyes shut. “Stay, Tetsu—”

“I’ll ask my assistant instead, how about that? Since you can’t do it for me,” he mumbles, and then everything is quiet for a few seconds. The air around you feels thick. Your belly is still burning up from the inside and it’s Tetsuro who made you feel this way. He got you this needy with ease, without blinking, which must count for something. You don’t want him to ask someone else. You bite your lip, before sitting back on your butt and wringing your hands together.

“I’ll do it.”

You’re not sure why it falls out of your mouth as easily as it does, but when he glances over his shoulder and lifts a brow, you’re already laying back. You push your shorts down, kicking them off. “Please, don’t leave. I can do it, I swear.” Tetsuro watches you for just a moment, before he bites his lip.

He shouldn’t want this, he knows it too. It’s about the farthest from a sane thought, but he’s always wanted to own you. His perfect little sister, the one his friends ogled when you weren’t paying attention. You never cared about any of them though, always stared up at him like he was the world’s most important person, the only one for you.

It’s not like he didn’t try to push you away, either. But your touches, the way your hands cling to him before he leaves, your smile as you make his lunch and fix his tie. How you press a loving kiss to his mouth like you’re still little kids and don’t even seem to hesitate, it’s torture. He doesn’t want to push away from you anymore.

If you’re naive enough to believe him, he’ll be as mean as he needs to be. You’ll understand, won’t you? You’ll forgive him for the sins he commits. Tetsuro drops his large hands to your ankles, before slowly crawling back up the length of you. Squeezing your thighs going up, pinching the sensitive skin harshly until you squirm and whimper. So fucking cute. Hands settling at the crotch of your panties, his lips twitch when he feels the wet patch there. He slides his finger under the fabric ever so slowly.

“You’ll do anything I say?” The low tremble of his voice is enough to set you alight, bobbing your head. Of course you will. His long fingers are quick to unbutton his shirt, leaving him in just his pants, as you lay equally undressed before him. He’s muscular, all sharp lines and angles. And though you’ve seen him undressed plenty, it was never like this, never for you. Your hands come to his pecs as he leans down, grabbing your chin and angling it up. “Promise?”

You nod. That’s enough for his brilliant grin to slip back on, one hand pulling down your panties as the other keeps you in place under those golden eyes, taking you apart for all you’re worth.

His fingers slide into the wetness leaking out of your slit, collecting it and swirling it back over your sensitive folds and your clit, and your thighs clench. He kisses you, breathing deep and pushing his tongue into your mouth much quicker than you expect, leaving your brain struggling to catch up. Niichan’s kissing you, he’s really kissing you and shoving his fingers inside you without hesitation.

His tongue laves at the sensitive spot at your neck, before he groans out your name. “Fuck, I knew you’d be a good puppy for me. Always so cute and needy for Tetsu nii.” He shoves the top down under your breasts, and leans down to take them into his mouth one by one, sucking hard. You mewl under him as his fingers curl deeper, scissoring you open. His hums against your skin so distracting, wet as he pulls back. “Should’ve just done this much sooner, look at you.” He groans, then throws his head back. “So fucking pretty.”

He flicks his thumbs over the pebbled buds a few times, then sits over you on his knees, and your hands fall to his waist. “Take out my cock, quickly.” His suggestion is gentle enough, but he still grabs your hand and puts it right over the hardness, lifting a brow. You don’t even think, don’t get to when he shoves a finger inside your mouth, hooking it on your cheek and pulling back so you can’t close your mouth entirely. It’s messy and it stings, and Tetsuro looks entirely too happy with himself.

But you oblige, unzipping the slacks until he kicks them off, revealing his boxers. Or rather the tent in them, a patch of precum sticking the fabric to the head and down the shaft. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, and he chuckles. “Looks like it belongs inside you, hm?” He jerks and curls his fingers hard, making your insides tingle. Then he pulls them out, shoving his boxers down his thick thighs to reveal the entirety of him.

Thick, flushed a deep, pinky red at the tip, his cock twitches. He’s so big, just like everything else about Tetsuro. “Niichan, don’t know if I can fit it,” you mumble around his finger, choking a little when he prevents you from swallowing.

“You’re the best little sister, it’ll fit.” He doesn’t even allow you to lift your own legs, instead hauling them both up and pressing them to your chest, and you squeak at the motion when he uses it as an opportunity to grab your cunt, rubbing his thumb over your clit and his fingers back inside. “You’ll take it all inside your wet, sloppy pussy, won’t you? Make niichan feel good?”

“‘M gonna try,” you slur, breathing hitching when he pushes up against your slit. “Wait, Tetsu nii,” you suddenly remember, snapping out of your haze enough to look up. His eyes glazed and focussed on your pussy as he pushes in more, and you try to put your leg down. “Condom, niichan!” He shoves it back in place by your ankle, and pushes in inch by inch anyway, making you take his length more with every breath.

“No, no, wait-hm— you -hng- put —a condom!” The last few inches are shoved in all at once, making you feel so full it turns you lightheaded. You crack your mouth open to talk again, but the strong grip on your throat makes it’s way back, and only a soft wail comes out when he pulls back. The deep breath is only a second of reprieve, before he pushes back in all the way and lewd squelches sound out.

“Shhh, let me have this,” he hisses, rubbing your puffy clit a few times as he starts a rhythm that slams your headboard to the wall each thrust. “You belong to me, my slut, -hng- my little sister. Niichan will make you feel good, I promise. Now lay still and take it, or I’ll squeeze harder.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴, 𝙸 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝚈𝙾𝚄

laying in the field of daisies, kuroo thinks his reactions betray him. he loves you. that’s all.

.wordc. 3.2k+ tw killer!kuroo, noncon, somno, violence, blood, (real) choking, unreliable narrator, yandere, implication of snuff

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There’s a strange peacefulness that comes to rest over this side of the mountain, where little, white flowers bounce gently in the breeze.

Long grass covered in dew that catches the light, and the eerie white cover rising from the floor to open up to the pink-circled sun as it falls ever so slowly through the sky. He plops down in the wet grass with a heaving chest and heart battering his ribcage to glance at you, resting peacefully to his side. You always were beautiful in ways that left him dumbfounded. Like the warmth of the sky you try to chase as summer slowly leaves your grasp. Spread arms wide, thrown back into the softness of nature to go up in it.

He watches the way your cheeks catch the peachy light, how the glistening specks clinging to your lashes seem to melt down the thick black to pool at the edges, and he’s fascinated. Though he did always have a way of making even mundane things poetic in his head, he thinks, watching your face until the sweat clinging to his back starts feeling cold. You were the last to go down, so he knows that you have some warmth left in you, but if you remain here any longer maybe soon it’ll fade. The gentle slope of the mountain has your blood rushing to your feet, surely. A small smile makes it’s way to his face as he lifts himself from the floor, taking a deep breath.

One of your shoes is missing, probably further up the mountain still. It exposes your flushed, little toes and the way they’ve started glowing against the frosty, wet wildflowers. And so he scoots a bit closer, glancing between your pretty, exposed legs and feet; and your peaceful expression. If he wasn’t already so goddamn in love with you, this surely would serve the deathblow anyway. His large, calloused hands make quick work of your other shoe, eyeing you every few seconds, and when you don’t react, he grows a bit giddier. It’s dangerous on him, this kind of excitement. He knows it too, both Akaashi and Kenma have warned him throughout the years enough that he notices when it starts welling up inside him, but fuck— he selfishly hopes you don’t mind.

He grabs your little feet —everything about you is little compared to him— and smiles when he feels the warmth of them on his skin. His fingers have long grown frosty up here, but you’re still as warm as you were when he first caught you smiling his way on a spring coming back from school. He’s careful when folding your legs and putting your feet in his lap, trailing gentle fingers up your calves with a growing smile. And then he takes a second to look around, really look around, take it all in. Your friends are spread out over the rolling field, some of them laying in pairs like even gravity couldn’t quite separate the threads of your friendship. He admires it, because even in the face of so much beauty they chose to stick together, to follow by your side like he did all these years. One, two… three, four… five, six, and then… you.

You’d made it quite a bit further down then the others, he muses, but the chase he gave you was mostly show. He’d never actually hurt you without reason, and it pains him that he even had to decapacitate you like this. Small trails of red are left in the wake of his fingers, your little summer dress hoisted up too far for comfort. Your hands are turning a few shades darker by now, he imagines them purple from the cold and the struggle you’d put up. And as he takes one of them, turning it over so he can inspect your soft palms, trail his fingertips over your pretty, pointed nails and the tender skin of your fingers, his heart drops a little. Because your chest is caved in a little more than normal, your hands are marred with lines of blood and friction and he hates having put you through so much in so little time, but once his patience runs out he can’t help himself.

Your hand is slipping. That’s all you can think as you book it down the hill as fast as you can, holding onto your friend’s hand with a grip so tight you feel like it could shatter either of your bones.

But it’s important, so important to keep a tight hold on her, your brain screams at you. You can barely untangle your thoughts enough to remember exactly why, all you know is that you have to stay by her side and let your legs carry you as fast as you can. But she’s always been more in shape than you, and you’ve been running for what feels like forever. So when she sprints on and loses hold of you with a desperate call of your name, you take it as the only chance to look back. The light illuminates the ground in a way that makes it seem endless. Your chest heaves. You don’t stop running, can’t— but god, everything hurts.

Your feet almost slip on the wet grass. You feel like you might puke, even before you see them lying there. Your friends, the people who you were laughing with just half an hour ago, slumped into the ground like fleshy molehills. They’re not moving. Your first instinct is to slow down and run back— but then you remember the terror, feeling it swirl into your chest like a heavy weight. Someone calls your name where you’re shaking on your feet, suddenly bolted in place. There’s blood, there’s so much blood, you can see it even from a distance and— your best friend must have run back because she yanks your arm towards her, snapping you out of it enough to grab your face.

She’s crying too. “Run! Don’t stop. Just keep running, please.” You know you both turn at the same time, but you can’t see anything through your tears. It shouldn’t surprise you when you crash onto your knees, slipping on something. Your hands break your fall for the most part, but the gravel-filled scrapes sting. You push back up again to run further down, just running, running, running until you can’t hear the world over your own heartbeat anymore. You don’t hear anything anymore. Just a deathly silence and the violent pumping of your heart aching for life.

And you don’t mean to, but your legs slow, because what are you even running for. Your friends are nowhere to be seen, you’re the only one still going. Your tears are running in crooked, wind-swiped lines down your face, and you try to brush them away with your hand for just a second, before you’re clinging onto a tree to catch your breath. Your lungs feel like they’re turning inside out, so does your stomach. And with the crashing realization that you’re so terrified, you wail out. Loud, crawling from your body without your control, you take a moment to turn over your shoulder at the mountain you must’ve taken hours to walk up earlier. Some cursed thought about the fresh air makes its way through your brain, before you push yourself off again, muscles aching with each motion.

But a flash of a person and a sharp blow straight to your chest is enough to ruin you. The impact is so hard and blunt that you’re blown back and onto your back with the air squeezing out of your lungs. So that’s it, you think, grass cold beneath you. He must’ve really run since when he hovers over you, you can see how shiny his forehead is from sweat and splatters of blood, sticking dark hair to his skin.

Every breath is so heavy, it squeaks each time your chest swells. You hope you’ll instinctively try to get up from the floor through the black dots that swirl in your vision— like to think you won’t give up until the end. But when he drops the metal from his hands to kneel by your side, fighting seems so useless. You feel his knuckles on your cheek, before he smiles. “Not fast enough, pretty girl.”

It’s awfully loving and familiar for someone you don’t know. When your vision blacks, you hear a soft chuckle. “Though you put in a good fight. Heh- that was fun.”

The limp way your legs fall when he shifts means that he really knocked the wind out of you good, leaving you passed out between the spare trees and in his arms. The sun is sinking lower quickly, which makes him sigh. He really wishes he could have more time with you. Trailing you up here was hard labor, but he did it with gratitude, since you must’ve enjoyed seeing the view as much as he has. There’s something so picturesque about the way your heated cheeks slowly cool and render you like a statue, the kind of beauty that seems infinite. But, looking up the way your dress flutters in the wind, riding it up for him like even nature itself wishes to praise his actions, he knows this crack in time is not endless.

He lets out a deep breath, setting your legs either side of his waist. Then he scoots closer to you, trembling with each second his pants brush up against your bare thighs. The mere thought sends sparks up his body and makes him groan, because even in your soundless rest you manage to drive him crazy. His hands grope at the soft skin of your thighs, trailing up and around them to the inside of your thighs, so warm compared to the rest of the world out here. “Don’t you worry, my love. Once we’re done here I’ll clean everything up and we’ll go home to get warm again,” he mumbles, imagining your eyelids would flutter happily at that if you were awake. He ignores the way the fabric of his pants get wet kneeled between your legs, and moves to rest over you.

And he presses a shaky kiss to your closed lips, before grunting and pushing harder. His hands slide from your shoulders to your sides, then move to tenitavely grope your covered chest. When you don’t respond -though the logical part of him reasons that you couldn’t if you wanted to- he pulls back to watch you again. One hand grabs at the doughy skin through your dress while the other comes up to brush past your lips, opening your mouth with two digits and feeling the wetness of your tongue. And god— the slight warmth of your mouth feels heavenly, his cock twitching in his pants. He keeps himself on his elbow and slots his fingers in and out a few times, before stuffing his tongue into your mouth. You don’t kiss back, not yet, but he swears he can practically hear your moans anyway when he presses his waist in between your legs.

Rutting against you comes so easy when you’re not wiggling all over the place. Your mouth feels so good, so soft, melting to his like he knows you would. Pressing harder, hips and cock pushing up against you like the overeager thing you always render him as. He sucks on the tip of your tongue with lewd moans and drinks you up again and again, rubbing up and down your panties with the crotch of his pants. You feel so fucking good, his boxers being ruined by the precum of his drooling cock. Just how many nights had he came onto his own chest, thighs, hands thinking about you, about this? It’s hard to even remember, raising his hips more to rub the covered head of his cock over your waist bone and clit.

Kuroo grunts your name as he lays kisses down your cheek and neck, swallowing tightly. As much as he wants you to cry out for him, there’s a fucked up sense of joy he gets out of having you like this too, perfectly quiet for him. And though he knows he didn’t slam the round end of the crowbar into you hard enough to kill you, part of him hopes that it was hard enough to see the blood well up in unhappy pools under your skin. He moans when tasting your lips again, before pulling your dress down your shoulders and chest enough to expose your tits to the open air. Your nipples are pointed. As he knew they would be when he finally got to put his hands on you. And the noiret knows his palms are too marred for your perfect body, but who would ever turn down the chance to touch a fallen angel if they could?

He pinches the buds between his strong fingers. Eyeing the way the diamond heart of your necklace rests in the valley of your faintly moving chest while rubbing his aching cock to your panties harder and faster, he knows. Knows that everyone would kill for a taste of you, which is why the blood sticking to your cheeks and in lines on your thighs doesn’t bother him. He wants to see more, and he will— once you’re awake. It’s no fun if you’re not there to pull his face closer to your slick cunny or to beg his name like a prayer, so he holds off. Still, his patience is not endless, and with each push of his hips he’s closer to his end. So Kuroo yanks the zipper down and shuffles his pants down to his knees, hissing at the cold. Poor thing, you must be freezing with your back all wet.

He slips a single finger under the crotch of your panties and pulls them aside, giving his cock a few pumps. “Here you go, pretty girl. This is all for you,” he chuckles at the way he can imagine your face to pull into a pout, lining himself up and spitting straight onto the tight hole, “this fat cock is all yours. You like that, huh?” Pushing the tip up against your body feels weird, he’s so much warmer than you. But it only makes him want to hold you tighter, make sure he does everything in his power to make you feel good. He drops his mouth to yours again and tangles his tongue with your lazy muscle, imagining how it’ll feel once you finally kiss him back. How you’ll sound moaning his name over and over. Maybe he’ll never be the same after this, but he truly can’t find it in himself to care.

Pulling one of your thighs up for access, he slides into you, groaning at the tight grip your pussy has on his cock. Even unconscious, the muscles seem to squeeze around him like they’re trying to snap every last bit of his sanity, the warmth of your body slowly seeming out into the ground. With a few deep breaths, he pushes himself all the way in until he’s pushing up against your womb, before pulling out. A small, squeezed breath seems to come from your lips, then another. It makes his cock twitch inside you, your body feeling cold and slick, covered in the prettiest goosebumps. Folding up your legs, he pumps back into your cunt, now hovering his lips against your ear.

“Come on,” he hisses through his teeth, pulling back enough to slap your face. The feeling tingles through his fingertips, though he kisses it all better right after. He’d never hurt you. Ever. “Time to wake up, pretty girl.” He pushes his cock between your legs again and again until finally enough wetness collects to make him feel all hot, dripping down your bodies and letting him hear that pretty, wet squelch. Sweat beads at his hairline when looking at your face, and he folds your little arms over your chest to pin them between your two bodies. Then he picks up the pace some, calling your name with a louder groan. Your chest is dropping more rapidly, eyelids twitching. You must hear him, which brings a smile to his lips. “That’s it, look at me while I make you mine.”

Another few silent breaths pass, before you’re sucking in a giant breath, the lacking amount of air swelling your chest with a desperate pinching sound. There you are. Pretty lashes framing those beautiful eyes, as they try to focus. Your mouth cracks open but your voice doesn’t come. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. He can feel your shallow, desperate breaths on his skin, dusting his cheeks pinker. “Shh, baby. There you are, I missed hearing you.”

“C- ca-n’t,” you gasp, and he feels your hands twitch between your bodies, “an’ brea-the.” Your eyes are all teary, while his body fills with heat and he drills your tiny slit further open. He wonders if you’re even aware of it, with the way you gasp and sputter for air. It’s so cute, even when your lips start looking a bit off-colored. His body’s aching, the warm, wet of your pussy leaving him just as breathless. “Help,” you squeak, closing your eyes and tilting your head away, but you look so pitiful and small and beautiful under him. “Breathe— hel-p me,” you cry, and he feels your hand wrap around the fabric of his shirt. Fuck, you’re so perfect, he can’t even imagine a person better than you. There couldn’t be, with how badly you want him, need him, cling to him.

Your slick cunny drools all over his thick cock as he bottoms out each thrust, balls smacking against your skin with a wet pap. You’re the only one who could have him this wound up, his angel. “Can’t breathe?” he coos, and your tiny, pinched cry is enough answer to grab your throat between his fingers. You cry— or try to— but he smiles. “That’s okay, don’t struggle. I’ll take good care of you.” He presses the digits into the sides of your neck until your body clenches and twitches around him instinctively, sucking him in even deeper. You’re cold, and struggling for breath under him, he’s sure he’s never seen something so beautiful.

“Gonna make me cum, pretty girl. Fuck— you cum too. Cum on this cock.” He brings one hand between your legs to rub at your clit while you convulse and your lashes flutter. So desperate for life, it makes him want to fill you until you can’t imagine your body without his cock in between your legs. He moans your name as he pumps into your wet heat until he can’t even feel anything else, holding you down and your legs twitch. Your thighs shudder, your chest swells and you clench around him so hard it leaves him seeing double, and he finishes right after you with a string of drawn out swears. “Love you so much, fuck. Holy fuck.”

The mountain is quiet when he collapses on top of you, so are you. He doesn’t want to leave yet, the thought suddenly hits him. But you’re so cold, and you might freeze over soon. That’s okay. He’ll take care of you no matter what state you’re in, that’s just the kind of lover he is.

[seijohsfairy]

you’ve been in love with kuroo tetsuro for years, silently supporting from the sidelines. it’s where you feel comfortable, felt- comfortable. so now that kuroo finds out you’re his most loyal fan?

.wordc. 9.5k tw manipulation, degradation!, corruption, bullying, dubcon/noncon, coercion, yandere kuroo, fingering, oral, Kuroo is on the world’s biggest ego trip

.author’s note. I finally finished this monster after struggling for so long ( ɵ̥̥ ˑ̫ ɵ̥̥) inspired by fanatic by @/jackrrabbit​. if you want to read an amazing bullying smut, it’s seriously perfection

+

An obsession. If someone asked, you’d never call it that. An appreciation of the sport maybe, or of the hard work and dedication of the players. But an obsession might’ve been more accurate, as you have been a fan for years now. At least you can admit it to yourself. Not a day goes by where you forget to think about volleyball, and more in particular, him. It’s not your fault it makes you so happy… It’s not at all, and yet—

You’re able to watch the young men through the open doors of the gym, the resounding bangs of spikes flattening against the polished floor filling the building. You huff out in the afternoon sun and hide under the sun-bleached, red parasol as best you can, before wiping a bead of sweat from your temple. Soon everyone will be pouring out of the classrooms, which brings a smile to your face. But for now, you spare another look inside the bright hall, following the red jerseys as they move swiftly around the court. The speed at which the balls connect with the floor have always impressed you, but your eyes are instead on the middle of the group, tracing the number one mindlessly.

“Senpai, are you alright?” your junior squeaks out. You flinch in surprise at her question, almost dropping the drink you’re holding in the process. Her short brown hair sticks to her face where a wide-eyed expression marks it, though a small, unsure smile stays in place. You quickly bring out a laugh though, waving off her concern.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry,” you put down the glass can and press your cool fingers to your forehead, smiling, “the heat just makes it hard to actually pay attention. Could you repeat that, please?”

“I’m just so glad you suggested this, s’all!” she beams, putting the last of the lemonade out on the table, each can in between ice packs. They’re already dripping, coming summertime close to unbearable. “My big brother always talks about the fanclub at home and that other teams don’t have a fanclub near as good as ours!” You smile at her while you pour chunks of ice into the white wine, putting it out too. The entire table is decorated with the team colors, flyers to one side, donation jar and cash register on the other, with all the drinks, ice pops and watermelon slices in the middle.

You even made all of the small, red cat charms that hang from the parasol yourself. A bit overkill perhaps, but no effort really feels big enough when you’re as dedicated to a team as you are, even if it’s embarrassing to say. But well… you’d do just about anything to support Nekoma and the man you’ve been crushing on for years now. While you peer up at the windows of the classrooms, mentally keeping track of just how much longer you’d have to wait for the rest of the fanclub to join you, you miss the proud look the younger girl sends your way. Yui, the libero’s younger sister, pulls her hair up in a tiny ponytail. “You must be so proud since you started it all by yourself.”

You look back down at her, flushing. “Of course I am proud of the fanclub, but I’m even more proud of our team. Y’know, I’ve been watching some of them since middle school and they all seem to enjoy it so much. It makes me want to support them in any way I can.” You’ve taken the requests of the team to heart to the best of your ability. Hopefully you can sell a lot, they’d really need new cleaning equipment and some of the shorts and jerseys could definitely be replaced with new ones.

“Of course Nekoma’s angel would say that,” a voice giggles, the black haired girl strolling up behind you. All the others walk close behind, right when the bell indicating the last class rings. The rest of the fanclub waves politely, many of the girls with their own healthy flush. “Make some space, Mrs. Kuroo, everyone will be getting out in a minute or so.” You give the other third-year a little poke in her side, looking down at the menu as you pick at the corner of the laminated sheet. It’s so silly, but the nickname makes you all warm inside. How nice it would be to actually be… well. You shouldn’t think so far ahead, or not ahead at all, since Kuroo Tetsuro has absolutely zero interest in you. The overflowing amount of love you have for him isn’t making up for anything.

“Don’t call me Mrs. Kuroo. It’s embarrassing,” you tell the raven-haired girl, glancing back inside the hall for just a moment to watch as said man gulps down his water, sweat drenching his hairline and dripping down his chin. “Even if I like it, he doesn’t know I exist.” Some of the girls coo at your admission, all of them at least aware that you’ve looked up to the Captain for years. Your friend sends you a knowing look, before cracking her fingers and getting to work on the cash register. She’s been trying to get you to say something for months, and with the last few weeks of high school growing closer and closer, you can’t even blame her.

But what would you even say to the guy you’ve crushed on for so long? After all, you’ve been in his class for three years now and he never once spoke to you directly either. He’d probably be creeped out by your dedication to him. Before you can think of any more, bunches of students start pouring out of the buildings, looking tired out by the day. When they see your stand, many of them light up, already taking out their wallets to get some cool lemonade. You clap your hands and look at the girls surrounding you, before nodding. “Alright, let’s do this! We’re going to sell everything out today. Yui, you get that side?” You turn to the first few customers and put on your best smile, handing them a menu. “Welcome to the Neko Outdoor Café! Would you like a drink?”

///

“Captain!” Yamamoto calls, pout more pronounced with each passing second. “Please let us take a break. Please.” He’s about to get on his knees and beg. “Come on, man. I need this.”

The raven haired man just lifts a brow in his direction, before turning his attention back to the bench so he can tie his shoelaces properly. “Shut up, you’re being noisy.” He doesn’t care to ask what the guy is on about, already more than annoyed at having to practice in this sweltering heat. Every movement feels slower than usual, it’s pissing him off.

“They’re going to sell out and leave, Captain!” the other tries again, tugging at the edge of Kuroo’s jersey like a child. In fact, he looks like he might burst into tears. The Captain ignores him.

“I’m sure they’re keeping some extras for us,” Yaku tries, smacking Lev’s hand away from his water bottle and downing the last of it.

Kenma hums. “You know they wouldn’t leave us with nothing, they’re all so thoughtful.” The setter is already trying to soothe a teary-eyed Yamamoto, while Kuroo straightens out to wipe himself down with a towel. “They probably have a whole pack of ice lollies stored away for after practice. Our cheer squad leader wouldn’t be caught dead forgetting about anyone.” At the mention of your name, the Captain frowns, the sound unfamiliar. “She even remembered to bring some mango for me last time, and I don’t even remember telling her I don’t like watermelon that much.”

“Who now?” Kuroo frowns. He pokes out his tongue to wet his lips, following his team’s gazes to outside the gym, where rows of students are lining up. He can just see the edge of a red table, curiosity peaked.

Kenma’s face blanks when he looks over at his long time friend. “The leader of the fanclub? She’s been to every one of our matches since like… eighth grade or something. How have you never noticed her?” Some of the boys turn to him in confusion too. Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest, before chewing on his answer. It’s not that he ignores anyone on purpose. But your name doesn’t ring a bell, neither does the description.

“Pretty sure she really likes you, too,” Lev suddenly says, getting up from his spot on the floor to bound closer to the door to watch past it. “She always wears clothes with the number 1 and your name on it. She’s very nice, she bought me chocolate milk after our last game.” He stares out the door for a moment longer, before perking up and waving for his older teammates’ attention. “Ooh ooh, she has ice creams for us, she’s calling. Can we please take a break, Captain?”

Everyone turns to the third year. Even Kenma is giving him an unspoken question with his expression. “Fine, whatever,” Kuroo just sighs, giving into their antics. “But after that we’re getting back to spike training and you better all jump higher than I’ve ever seen you jump.”

While waiting in line, he asks to point you out. You’re busy smiling at every single student that comes by, colored shadow falling over you because of the sun shade that is just as red as the rest of the table. Just as red as your flushed face, and as red as the shirt that you’re wearing with his name on it. You look kind, with a childlike joy on your face, innocent in the way you beam out warmth. And after staring at you for a while, you do start to look a bit familiar. Huh. So this is what his biggest fan looks like. He’s not let down, not exactly, though he does wish that you’d focus less on the lemonade and more on him as he waits in line with the rest of the team. But it’s understandable, you’re just trying your best. Even he can see that.

Suddenly, you look up from the cash register, having been shoved in the side with an elbow by your friend and in the split second he catches your eyes, he can see several emotions flash in them. The last one before you look away is definitely wide-eyed mortification though. You look away from him and turn to your friend, whispering something in her ear as your cheeks grow red-hot. You blank at her answer, before biting your lip. It’s strange, but something in the things you do are cute to him. How you nervously toy with the edge of your shirt. How you try to keep your eyes on the ground but glance back every so often anyway. How you put on a smile. You must really, truly like him. And he can’t say he doesn’t like at least that. That innocent expression on your face is to die for. Really.

After a minute or so, you seem to gather your wits and look up to walk from behind the stall. “Guys, you don’t have to wait in line. Come up here,” you wave them over, not looking at him at all. Somehow, this only makes him giddier, wanting to see you flush even harder. Maybe you’d pass out if he talked to you. Maybe you’d cry. Would you even be able to handle it if he got any closer? The smirk that clings to his lips is one of ego-filled happiness, he can’t help himself. Something about you makes him feel like he’d be able to break you with the slightest of pressure, and though he’s never quite wanted to control someone like that, he can’t say it doesn’t feel exhilarating.

Everyone moves out of the one line to skip to the front, as you busy yourself by glancing under the tables to pull out an extra cooler, opening it swiftly. That way your skirt pulls up insanely high, though you try to keep it down with one hand. Oblivious to what you’re doing, surely. His cute, little fan. He’ll have to give you a lesson on proper manners, but not now. All in due time. When everyone starts thanking you, you just rub your neck, straightening back up.

“How much are they?” Kenma asks, “I’ll pay. Is it alright if I get the money to you after practice though?”

“No, no!” you beam, “they’re free for you guys! I could hardly let our own team pay for some stupid ice pops and lemonade.” You don’t hesitate to smile at Kenma. Kuroo holds his tongue from breaking into your conversation for now, instead taking one of the watermelon slices and biting into it. You seem to sink into yourself a bit when he turns back in your direction, almost as if you’re trying to disappear into the background entirely. Would be hard though, with that bright a shirt. “We also have wine if the adults want any,” you continue, shooting Kai and Yaku a guilty glance then and trailing off. “Though that might not be a good idea if you’re still practicing.”

You still have yet to look back at him, creating a void of something in the pit of his stomach. Why don’t you want to look at him as much as he wants to look at you? “Are there any strawberry pops?” Lev asks, probably aimed at you but Kuroo’s already taking a step towards you before you can answer.

This way you’re not able to ignore him any longer. Your eyes are so big and stunned when you glance up at him, tilting your head back just so you can look him in the face. There you are, he thinks. You pull a lip into your mouth, cheeks burning with color. Your chest heaving up and down, heart clearly pounding so hard he swears he can hear it. And Kuroo is living for it, the thrill of making you so affected by his presence undeniable. He wants to be the one to make you so flustered, wants to be the one to taint it too. He does know that’s probably not normal, but it’s so tempting. He smiles down at you, watching when your lips tremble softly. Cute. He softly calls out your name, grinning wider when you seem to mellow for a moment at the sound. “Did you do all this yourself?” he asks, enjoying the starstruck expression on your face.

You have to take a moment to get yourself back on track, clearly. Understandable. “Mhm,” you manage though, looking anywhere but him again when you realize you’re staring. “W-Well, everyone helped plan it, of course. I just made everything they planned out.”

“Yeah?” His smirk has yet to leave his face, but if it could grow any wider, now would be the time. You give a shy nod, looking back up at him for a moment. “The lemonade looks good. The watermelon’s good too.”

You’re practically glowing at his compliment, taking a step back to roll yourself back and forth on the balls of your feet. He wants to place his hands on your shoulders to keep you still, but really, you might just faint if he does so he holds himself back. “T-thank you s-so much! I’m glad you like it. I hope you’ll be able to use the funds well, but if you ever need anything else, you can always ask me,” you lift your shoulder and smile at him for just a moment, blush still raging on your face. You blank then, quickly adding, “or any of the other girls! We’re all here to support you, so… p-please keep working hard and doing your best a bit longer!” You’re stuttering like crazy too. He’ll have to work that out of you.

Before he can say anything else, someone calls for your name, so you quickly bow and rush back to your spot behind the stall. The girls giggle and poke at you, some of them hardly subtle in their whispering and cooing. And Kuroo smiles, because he might have just found something new to peak his interest.

///

You couldn’t have known. Not really. You couldn’t have known the full extent of his anger and definitely not how it would turn on you. So why does it feel like you made a horrible mistake? As you are sweeping the last of the hall, you hear the familiar, resounding echo of volleyballs smacking against the smooth surface. It’s a sound that’s long grown near and dear to your heart. Still, you put the brush to the side to make your way to the gym door where it stands swung open. It’s a Friday. The Nekoma team doesn’t play volleyball after school hours on Fridays. You frown as you peek around the cold, metal door into the otherwise vacant hall. As the class representative this term, you’re basically expected to be the last one here.

The man causing the constant butterflies in your stomach is facing away from you, frustration seeming to radiate off him in angry, black swirls as he throws balls against the wall, making continuous tosses to himself. You wait for a moment longer, glancing back into the school building as you debate your options. Though you were unable to watch the end of practice, you saw the beginning. Kuroo was anything but the collected player he normally is, the sight of it making your heart ache. Very hesitantly, you knock your knuckles against the metal. You rather wouldn’t be putting yourself in his proximity by choice, last time enough to make you so flushed and flustered you were stumbling all over your words.

Still though, you just want to help him. Maybe you could make him feel just a bit better. “Kuroo-san?” you try softly when he doesn’t react. He catches the ball at your call, pausing for a second. Then he turns to you. A shadow on his face, tall shape seeming to loom over you even from afar. You dig your nails into your own palms at the sharp glare that’s sent your way, his eyes flicking over your entire body, coming to rest back on your face. He doesn’t say anything, so you try to gather your courage and clear your voice, taking a step into the gym. “I- Sorry, I heard you still practicing. Are you- I mean- I don’t want to assume or anything, b-but- you don’t normally practice on Friday.”

The brief flicker of courage you had soon sinks deep within the pit of your chest as the silence continues. He bounces the ball on the floor once before catching it again, lifting one of his brows. Still with that gleam in his eyes, the one set off by the darkness cast around him. Then he sighs, and in a second his smile is plastered back on. The smile you’ve grown so used to seeing from afar, but it doesn’t feel quite right. It certainly doesn’t reach his eyes. It looks a bit off too, lopsided like he’s trying to convince himself to keep it up. “You— Ah, you’re the… fan club girl,” he nods. He tosses the ball up a few times, seemingly thinking, before he clicks his tongue. His deep voice resonates through the empty hall. “Yeah, sorry if I’m bothering you. I wanted to get some more practice in.”

You wring your hands into the front of your shirt, mindlessly bunching it up in between your fingers. When his eyes are back on you, you have to fight yourself from taking a step back. “No, you’re not bothering me at all, I don’t expect any less from our team Captain.” You swallow. Then, barely louder than the thumping of your heartbeat against your ribs, a thought tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. “Would you like me to help you practice for a bit?” It’s a little thing, so small, and you’ve done it for Lev and Kenma plenty of times. But your hands shake when you ask.

Kuroo’s eyebrows pull tightly together, his expression looking so off-putting even when you normally think everything about him is beautiful. You think he’s perfect, even drenched entirely in sweat and with grooves dug deep under his eyes, exhausted to the bone, so why? Why does he glare at you this way, and how can you make your heart stop wavering in your chest? You briefly stand there to think about what you just said, trying to figure out exactly what you did wrong to make him feel even more shitty, but come up blank. He must have misread your tone of voice, or maybe you had a dumb expression on your face. Just some stupid mistake you made. That’s the only explanation you have why amazing, gorgeous, perfect star player Kuroo is acting the way he is.

“Do you even know anything about volleyball? You don’t look like you do.” The sharp comment feels like a slap to the face, and you take in a little breath as you attempt to rid the unsettling tension between you two. Maybe soothing him isn’t the way to go, but you know Kuroo makes himself feel better with practice and that is something you can do. For him, you could for hours.

“I— I can… serve alright,” you hesitate, looking from his face to his shoes instead. “I know a l-lot about volleyball and though I- I might not be the best, I’d still help, right?” His sharp eyes are still on you like an accusation, and no, no, no, this is all wrong but you don’t know how to fix it.

“Aah,” Kuroo coos then, chuckling to himself as he passes the ball your way, “you want to help me.” You barely catch it, clutching it close to your chest as he motions you closer with his hand. “O‘course you do.” With sheepish steps you make your way toward him because he asked, staying an arm’s length away for your own poor heart. Last time you were this close to Kuroo, all you could do was give some mindless encouragement, even though you were trying. You just couldn’t help get flustered back then. A cold shiver makes its way up your spine though, and you fight the pressing feeling to run. This is your favorite person in the world you’re looking at, and you’d do anything for him. You would, really. “Because you’re my fan, aren’t you?” he echoes your thoughts, and you bob your head in reply.

Your voice is barely above a whisper now, throat closing up when he leans in as if to inspect you more thoroughly. “Yes, of course, Kuroo-san. I’ve been a fan since I first saw you play a match back in middle school.” You wince at your honesty. Don’t tell him that, your mind screams, but it’s too late. All you can do is bite your lip to keep more from tumbling out.

“Yeah, yeah, so I heard.” He gleams, petting your hair and you try to keep your elation to a minimum, because his eyes are still just as sharp as they were when you first walked in, but butterflies flutter in your stomach. His fingers linger for a moment, the weight of his hand making your heart jump. It’s gone soon enough. “You in my class?” You nod eagerly, but while you do he’s already speaking again. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You’re my biggest fan, huh?” He’s leaning closer again, closer, too close, almost like he’s going to kiss you and you might sink through the floor if he gets any closer.

You try not to let the faint smell of his cologne overwhelm you, his face flushed at the edges of his cheeks because of the exertion. You open your mouth to figure out a response again, but Kuroo is faster. “You come to each match, hoping I’d notice you, right? Begging for my attention like a little kid, wearing my name on your body like that. Don’t you feel embarrassed?”

It takes your brain a while to unfilter the words, playing and replaying them now that you take a step back. “Aren’t you embarrassed to be so obsessed with me? Such a cute, little fangirl, just begging for a look your way?” No. It’s not like that, you are not like that. You’re not obsessed, you just care a lot about him. About the entire team. “Pretending to be into volleyball so you can talk to me, right? Do you talk to Yaku’s sister so you can get to me? Do you talk to Kenma so you can get to me too?” You want him to stop talking, why is he still talking? Why is he acting this way at all?

“N-No, it’s not like that,” you bring out, flushing when his hand wraps around your one shoulder to keep you from backing away from him. He straightens out to his full height, towering above you and as you follow his tall body up to his expression, you hate how he is smiling. A loathing, off-centered smile that gleams on his handsome face. The feeling to run grows so strong in your mind that for a moment you can barely ignore it. There’s something wrong. But of course you remain, you just want to make him feel better. “It’s not like that at all. They are my friends. I love volleyball.”

“You love me, Y/N-chan?” he asks then, dark eyes glazing over.

“I— I’m your biggest fan,” you settle on responding. Wouldn’t it be too much to admit you love him, even if you do? He doesn’t seem to take it, looking down at you with thinly veiled irritation now. The fingers on your shoulder tighten, though you’re too distracted to notice. “I mean- Of course I… love… you, but not in an obsessed way! I just have a lot of respect for how hard you work,” you drawl out, throat closing up when the gleam on Kuroo’s face seems to drop in favor of something softer. Something like admiration. You used to love how he would wear his emotions on his face, but now it’s too much. He’s still not satisfied, you can see it. “And I’d do anything to make you feel better so-”

“Hah. Aren’t you just incredibly sweet,” he sighs, finally letting go of your shoulder. You can feel the weight of it long after it’s gone, warmth trailing down your limbs tentatively. You’re so glad you let out a trembling puff of relief. He takes a deep breath, before he smiles again. Softer, familiar, and your heart slowly comes back to life. This is how it’s meant to go, this is how you always imagined it as Kuroo leans down to brush a strand of hair away from your face back behind your ear, sweet and tender. Hair that you keep longer than you’d want because you know Kuroo likes it that way. You’re sure your stress of earlier was showing on your face, cheeks burning for attention. “You’re so pretty like this, my little fangirl. Mine.”

You don’t miss the drop in his voice, a possessive tone that seems misplaced. As he brushes a knuckle past your cheekbone, tingles pool in your belly. “I’ve had a really tough day today, you have no idea. But I’m glad you’re here now. I think I do know how to fix my shitty mood, actually!” He takes your hands in his then, enveloping them with soft traces of his fingers. He pulls you toward the side of the gym, dragging you behind him. Kuroo Tetsuro is holding your hands. It feels too quick, sprung on you so suddenly it makes your head spin, but they are just so warm around yours like you hoped they’d be. The dark-haired man looks back over his shoulder. “You said you will help me, right?”

“Mhm,” you smile, watching him, how his shoulders move under the red volley jersey and his hair waves softly with each step. And he’s still holding your hand. This must be a dream. You’re on a mindless path until he walks you past the lockers and the damp feeling of the shower air hit your face. That’s when you slow your feet and pull against him a little, blinking out of your daze to glance to the side. Kuroo turns to face you. “Hey, this is the boys’ room.” Your obvious statement makes him chuckle, one hand coming up to cup your cheeks and though it’s insanely overwhelming, you don’t have the heart to pull back. He squishes your cheeks together until your lips turn into a cute, little pout.

“You’ve never been in a boys’ locker room, sweet thing? You’re just that good, huh?” Kuroo stares you down with his pretty, golden eyes while you fail to answer. Isn’t being good supposed to be a positive thing? But he says it like it’s something dirty, like you’re not quite right and you can’t help the sinking feeling that fills you to the brim. He pushes the door to your side into lock, the loud clang making your heart race. When he turns back to you, the darkness in his face is what scares you most.

Cats don’t eat cats, do they—

He doesn’t hesitate to grab you by the shoulder and shoves you up against the lockers, your back connecting with the cold metal sharply. You wince, his hand still around your cheeks. It’s so much bigger than you, you realize, he’s so much bigger than you. That never scared you before, but now you’re painfully aware of the looming shape and the way he’s able to look down at you like this. You swallow and keep his golden gaze. But he releases his hold on your face to hold the back of your neck, long fingers splayed across the soft skin, before leaning down so far into you, you can feel the tremble of his breath on your face. “Would you like me to kiss you?”

Your eyes are wide, unbelieving. Of course you do, but… You wait for what feels like a lifetime, his warmth too close to you. You can’t say no, can you? So you nod and drop your shoulders, eyes fluttering closed. If he were to kiss you all those uncomfortable feelings swirling inside would surely vanish. Kuroo hovers his lips over yours, you can feel them so close, but no more than that. And he chuckles, tilting your head to the side with two fingers instead. “No. You don’t deserve it yet. Don’t you think you have to work a bit harder for it? I know you’re good at that.”

He walks toward you until you’re fully pinned to the cold locker in between his legs, as he connects his lips with your neck. His lips are so hot, like steaming coals on you, and you can’t help but grab onto his bicep for support. It flexes under your touch. He kisses down your throat and jaw, lips dragging trails of kisses and tongue carving paths down to your collarbones and to the edge of your shirt.

And you’re so overwhelmed that the person you’ve loved for so long is actually touching you, that you don’t notice how tight his grip is wrapped around your neck, fingertips pressing ovals into the expanse. “You just wanted this the whole time, huh,” he coos, voice sickly sweet. But when he looks up at you from under those lashes, the gold in his eyes has the sharpness of a blade, daring you to reply. You shudder when his hand drops down to drag your shirt up. “Bet you’ve had so many guys hoping that one of them would feel and taste like me.” He unceremoniously shoves it up from your body, over your shoulders. You look to the side where it drops to the floor, your school uniform a crumpled mess.

“Kuroo-san,” you bring out, self consciously wrapping your arms around yourself to cover up. You don’t like this. You don’t like him telling you that you’ve had people just to prepare for him, don’t like him eating up the sight of you like you’re a piece of meat and you definitely don’t like how he presses his thigh in between your legs to pin you up to the locker. “W-what are you doing?”

He huffs in amusement, tangling his fingers into the hair at the top of your neck to tug back your gaze towards his. “You can drop the politeness, silly girl,” he says again, letting go to brush softer circles into your skull. His lips brush over yours as you stand there, trembling, unsure what to do. How can you say no to him if he’s here, so close, with you for the first time in ever? He taps his fingers on your hands to make you release your hold on yourself, which you do with a bit more coaching. Maybe you just think this is going way too fast because it is him. The boy that offers his friends water before drinking himself, the one with the loud laugh that rings through the halls and makes your heart thump. The guy you’ve been head over heels with. That one.

This is okay, you say to yourself, calm down. His other hand traces along the bottom of your bra as soon as you drop your arms to the side, slipping a finger under just enough to lift it from your skin and you shiver. “You gonna take this off for me?” he asks, rubbing his thigh in between yours more. You can’t answer because you’re dropping your head back against the locker, overwhelmed and unsure still, with the lack of oxygen getting to you all you can do is let out a little whimper. You don’t know a lot about this, you’re sure he does. The hand around your neck drops so he can flip your skirt up, chuckling at your cute panties. You look down in embarrassment and attempt to shove the plaid fabric back down over your thighs but then he lets out a growl, holding it in place. “You wear my name on your body like my personal whore. Don’t play too shy to follow through.”

His long fingers trace over the edges of the panties, where you take deep breaths to calm down. You can’t help but push your waist down on his muscular leg for some friction, looking to the side when he chuckles. “You really are a little slut.” This time you shake your head though, pouting at him.

“I’m not, Kuroo.”

“Liar,” he breathes, pressing his nose to the crook of your neck. “You act like a well-mannered princess but we both know you want to be put in your place.” Not waiting up for a response, he lifts you by your thighs up higher, so he can bury his face into your covered chest, dragging his tongue over the one cup. You can feel the wetness of his tongue seep through the lacy fabric onto your skin. It’s warm and uncomfortable, his breath cooling your skin down instantly. “If you’re not going to take it off, I will,” he gleams, looking up to check your expression again. Ever so slowly he starts pushing the fabric up, not bothering to unhook the piece of clothing. Instead he toys with brushing over your pointed nipples, kissing up your sternum. His eyes flick to yours continuously, like he’s making a show of undressing you. He licks his lips, leaning towards you again.

“Kuroo,” you manage to mumble, resting your one hand on his shoulder to push him away from you. You stumble when you land back on your feet, looking down at the floor. Burning heat covers your entire face, from your cheeks up to your ears. It’s physically painful to be so near him, and the tight grip on your thighs isn’t helping. Your heart is pitter pattering so hard it might break through your ribcage. Despite how much you dreamed about falling in love with him, it wasn’t like this. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I have to lock up the halls and go home.” Your friend’s voice rings through your head then, something about bad guys and the way they prey on kind girls like you, creating cold goosebumps along your arms again. Kuroo Tetsuro can’t be one of those guys, you’ve looked up to him for so long. If he is, what would you even do? “I want to—”

“Don’t lie,” he interrupts, glaring up at your disapproval, “don’t ruin this for me.” Without hesitation he locks his mouth onto your exposed skin, rubbing his knee against your covered center, hard. It sends a spike of heat down your body. You breathe out at the rough laving of his tongue, only soothing after he sucked and bit the tender skin. His one hand reaches up to pull down your panties from under your skirt as soon as you’re closing your eyes, and though you open your mouth to stop him he shuts you up by pinching your thigh sharply between his long fingers. “I told you to stop lying to me. Whatever comes out of that pretty mouth next best be the truth.” He trails his digits up and down a few times, the slightest soothing to your anxiety.

“I… I just don’t—” you swallow, looking away from his eyes to focus on the shine of the lights. They make your eyes burn, but at least you don’t have to undergo his vicious glare this way. It really feels like he despises you for even breathing in his direction, though then why would he be kneeled in front of you. The conflict makes you nauseous, more insecure than you’ve ever been around him and your throat closes up a bit. When his stroking stills, you push through the words anyway. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

He laughs. A warm, bubbly sound against your thigh. “No one’s ever stuffed you with their fingers before?” He looks gleeful, nuzzling your hip in a too-intimate gesture. You’re his fan, but he barely knows anything about you. You slowly shake your head, cheeks warming. His hands start moving again as he shuffles closer between your thighs so his mouth is level with your chest. As he eyes you up and down, he giggles to himself. “Did my slutty fan get herself off on the thought of me? D’you beg for me when coming around your useless, little fingers?” You bite your lip, eyes flicking down at him when he calls your name. “I’m waiting for an answer~”

“I don’t—,” you bite out, flustered and feeling small. He must hear the edge in your voice. With a quick flick of his wrist, he brings his down on your thigh, pinching you hard for good measure. You yelp and grab hold of his head to steady yourself, before quickly pulling your hand away again. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Wanna try again?” he mumbles though, trailing two fingers up and down the crotch of your panties. It feels warm, and really good, but you’re still cold to the touch. Is this really okay? You doubt it. When he starts licking at the edge of your panties you shudder, letting your weight fall into the sturdy locker for support. “Hm, d’you get off to me?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth. You might have touched yourself down there once or twice, but in your imagination that was always long after he’d gotten to know you. In your imagination he was gentle, caring. Nothing like the impatient trailing of his fingers, like he can’t wait to play a game you never agreed to. At his golden gaze, you let the truth spill. “Sometimes,” you breathe, immediately hiding your face in your own shoulder from embarrassment.

“That’s what I thought, dumb girl.” He pushes your panties unceremoniously to the side to collect the slick there, grinning. You didn’t even notice you were getting wet while trying not to anger him. He doesn’t waste time taking advantage of this fact though. He spreads your bottom lips open with his fingers, looking up at you easily. His deep voice feels loud in the pressing silence of the abandoned gym, and you can’t help but wonder how much trouble you’d get in if anyone found you here. “Listen, brat,” he calls, pushing his lips to the top of your thigh to bite the plush skin. You jerk away from him with a cry, but he doesn’t let up.

“I’m gonna push my fingers inside that filthy cunny of yours, stretch out your little hole so you can actually fit something in there. ‘Cause I know you’re a good girl, so you’re probably gonna go braindead if I fuck you like this.” He chuckles at your hitched breathing. You can’t even begin to understand. The person you love more than life itself wants to fuck you? Well, his fingers are still playing down there, slowly pushing into you and they are thick, much thicker than yours. You can’t believe it. Kuroo Tetsuro wants to fuck you, in the boys locker room of the school gym while you should be long on your way out by now. No, you can’t. But you don’t find the words to speak up under his gaze, not wanting to disappoint him. If he notices your mental struggle, he doesn’t show it. “Then you’re gonna help me out like you promised by sucking my cock, right?”

You freeze up. You did say you’d help him, you said that didn’t you… But you didn’t know it would be like this, if you did you would’ve said ‘no’. You curse yourself for saying anything at all, trying to calm your heart as best as you can. You’re feeling so overwhelmed. By his touch, his presence, the situation, the stress put on your poor, frazzled brain. When two of his digits are halfway inside you, you let out a whimper. That’s at least three of your own, you already feel spread so thin. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, raven hair, needing anything to cling to. “Say, ‘Yes, Tetsuro’,” he coos, pressing a row of kisses over the front of your panties, chuckling at the little bow. But the sweet tone is taken away as soon as it comes. “Say it.”

“Y-Yes… Tetsuro.” He hums happily, shoving his fingers inside you in one swift move until his palm is against your center. Your legs almost give out at the feeling. “Ah- ah! S’too much, Kuroo.”

The raven haired man grins at that, curling his digits inside you and pulling them out just as quickly. Like striking a match. You reach up your hand to bite into it, hoping to contain your sounds. Your slick sounds ring through the empty locker room as Kuroo slides them back in and out at a punishing pace. “My dumb, pretty baby really is clueless, huh,” he sighs, long fingers sliding under your knee to place it instead on his shoulder.  It only debases you even more, struggling to stay upright as he brings his face in between your legs. When you whimper in embarrassment, calling his name, he scoffs. “You should let me play this how I want to, since you clearly don’t know anything.”

The curl of his long fingers brushing up against the soft, spongy part of your walls makes your brain numb. His words hurt. You don’t want them to, you wish they didn’t. “My dumb slut,” he hisses, before the harsh lines of his mouth are buried between your thighs. His tongue sweeps out to deliver a long swipe from his pumping fingers to the top of your slit, before swirling around the nub making you tremble. Your belly tenses, coil in the pit of your stomach growing irritatingly tight as he grinds his face against your pussy, obscenely slurping at the wetness. Your fingers twitch in his fluffy hair, attempting to comb through it best you can as your eyes flutter closed.

“Kuroo, ‘m close. Really close.” You can barely raise your voice enough to make it be heard over his motions, though he looks up at the call of his name. “I want to cum,” you say, “please.” He doesn’t still his fingers, but the twitch in his brows seems to indicate disaster, and you quickly bite your lip to think. “C-Can I?”

“D’you think this is about you, Y/N-chan?” He grins at your blown out expression, relishing in the wide eyes and bobbing lip. He uses his thumb to continue putting pressure on your clit, as he tuts his lips. “I’ll decide if or when you cum, because you’re mine. And when I decide to stuff this cunt you best consider yourself lucky, baby, that my cock is breaking open your perfect, little body.”

“Y-yes, but—” you bring out, ignoring the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You can’t hold it if his fingers only speed up their devouring of your body, mouth wrapping around you to suck hard.

“Don’t cum yet,” he mumbles, going so hard it’s making your vision sway. His tongue and mouth go harder, despite his order. And with mindless pleas you come around his fingers, shutting your eyes tight at the white splotches. Legs flexing and fingers tightening in his hair. You let your head drop as he works you through the feeling, until you’re pushing him off from overstimulation. Your cheeks feel akin to a forest fire when you open your eyes to his huff, tracing the lines of the hardwood floor under your feet. When he pulls his fingers out of you, you can feel some of the slick drip down your thighs and you instantly burn brighter.

But you don’t get to think about it, because Kuroo is straightening up before you, back to his overwhelming posture above you. He stares at you for a moment, before he leans in. Out of instinct, you lean back, away from his face when he wipes it. The glint in his eyes is a scorch mark on your sanity, his face so close to yours. “Can’t you listen to what I say, or are you just that cockhungry and stupid?” Your head is shaking side to side before you can stop it, hoping that you’ll be released soon. But you said you’d help him and if you don’t, Kuroo might hate you. You don’t think you could handle that. Rejection would’ve been better, after all. “Get on your knees and make it up to me.”

You choke back a sob at the order, looking up at him with big eyes again. You don’t want to, you don’t want to sit on the cold floor of the locker room where teenage boys drag their sweaty bodies— Kuroo seems to soften slightly at your expression, lowering his palm to your crown to pat your head, gently brushing over your temple. “You’re my biggest fan, aren’t you?” The low rumble of his voice right next to your face, his warm body so close and the curl of his pretty lips, everything makes you so docile. Dreamlike. “You’re really helping me so much,” he coos, and before you know it his mouth is on yours. His mouth… is on yours. And he tastes like you, and he’s kissing you. You freeze, not stopping him as he grabs your hands and loops them around his neck, his own picking you up to melt into an embrace.

Like two lovers in a painting, he claims your mouth with his tongue and curls your feeble body into him. So strong, with hard lines of his body that make your heart swell under your ribs. His hand on your thigh, the other on your neck, he kisses you and you think the stars might be exploding around you. He pulls back for a moment enough to breathe, before peppering another few kisses on your agape lips until you could turn black and blue from the bruising weight of your adoration. Kuroo brushes your hair away as you look at him, chest heaving against his each swell of your lungs. He starts peeling his lanky body away from you. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought that you were my biggest fan, but if you don’t—”

“No, I am!” you squeak, grabbing onto his jersey to keep his warmth close.

The noirette gives a faint smile, shaking his head. You don’t stop to question him acting so different from before, since your greedy brain clings to every word. “It’s okay,” he mumbles, “I’m used to being taken advantage of by girls.” His eyes shift to the side, lips dropping into a downturn. “They tell me how much they care about me so that I’ll have them, then leave me. I know my teammates are always the favorites anyway. So I understand that you don’t want to do anything more, it’s okay.”

“No Tetsuro, I want to, I swear!” you blurt out, grabbing his large hand despite the jitters in your system. He gives you a slight raise of his eyebrow. “I want to— s-suck you off.”

He chuckles, gaining back some of the brightness to his eyes. “You can’t even say it without stuttering.” The hand on your neck slides to your shoulder, slowly pushing you toward the ground. You hesitate for another moment, before dropping to your knees when the pressure becomes too heavy. When you’re eye level with his shorts, you swallow, bringing up your hands. The fabric is pulled taunt, showing off your effect on him. Ever so slowly, you pull the elastic of the red shorts down, taking his boxers with them in the process. You push them down until his hard cock is freed, curving up towards his belly and twitching with anticipation. Kuroo just bites his lip when you look up at him. “Give it your best shot, baby.”

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, tip glistening with precum. You slowly start moving your hand down his length, but you’re clearly not going fast enough because his hand is back in your hair, yanking you closer to his dick this time. He presses the tip to your lips, and you whimper out as you open your mouth. He’s quick to grab hold of himself to push inside, too quick and stretching you painfully. He’s big and wide and you immediately know you’ll ache once this is done. But as he starts working himself deeper, your eyes fluttering at the feeling and focusing on not choking, he makes pretty grunts that you tell yourself make this worth it. He reaches the back of your throat with plenty to spare, and you bring your hand up to hold yourself on his thigh. It stings.

But he doesn’t stop, even when you whimper around him and push at his leg. “Take it all the way,” he grunts, cocking his head back. The noises you make only make him more vocal, but you’re fighting through the feeling of panic in your chest. Each time he pulls back more saliva messes up your face, keeping Kuroo’s attention on the pretty way you take him. “You think you deserve my attention? My dumb, useless little bitch wants my approval?” He grunts when he hits the back of your throat again. “Because if you can’t even take my cock in your mouth without drooling all over yourself, I don’t think you do deserve it.” He slows his hips when you make a throaty sound, fingers tangled tight in your hair as he pushes in until your nose is pressed to his skin, before letting you back. You gasp for air when you’re finally let up, holding a sob that threatens to crawl out of your throat.

“Kuroo, I can’t,” you bring out, wiping your fingers under your eyes to get rid of any tears, but he doesn’t let go. Your voice is already raspy, grating against your tender throat.

“Yes you can, you’re doing well.” He pushes his cock back to your lips and though you’re more prepared for it this time you’re still shocked by how big he feels. Spit seeps out along the edges of your mouth, tongue being pushed down and your lungs struggling. He moves your head up and down his cock over and over, barely leaving you enough time to take a couple deep breaths. He slowly starts fucking your face when the tears spill over your cheeks and clump your lashes, hissing when you gag on him. “That’s how you suck a cock, idiot. Can’t do anything right without my help, can you?” His words just make you cry more. He bruises your throat until you can’t take any more, pulling out of his grip despite the pain and falling back onto your butt.

“Kuroo,” you cry out, losing control over your own tears. Your voice sounds double, like it’s been split in two. “I don’t like this.” A little squeak falls from your lips, airways painful and ragged. “I want—,” this time you can’t hold back the sob, “I want you to be nice to me.” You sound so pitiful, even to your own ears. You’re crying. But the man you’ve looked up to for so long is calling you all these names, making you feel so dumb. Are you really that dumb for liking him, supporting him, being his fan? “I don’t wanna do any more.” Tears are flowing, wet and warm down your cheeks and neck. Stop, stop crying. You reach a hand up to smear them away, but in their place new ones still come. “Please, I wanna go home.”

“Shh, shhhh,” he hushes, petting the top of your head like you’re a well-behaving pup, and you hate how you lean into it. The idea of yourself makes you sick to your stomach. Why are you even letting him walk all over you like this? Is this really the amount of self respect you have? Kuroo peers down at you between his legs. “You’re doing so well for me. You’re the best fan I could ask for. I’m sure you can take a bit more.”

“No,” you squeak when he reaches for your face again, “it hurts and I don’t like it.”

Kuroo stills. Regards you with a long, drawn-out breath, before humming in what you pray is understanding. “Alright,” he helps you up from the floor, steadying you in his arms and moving you both to one of the benches instead. “I wouldn’t want to hurt my number one fan, would I?” He sits down on the bench first, pulling you to sit on his thighs facing him. You wipe the mess of tears and saliva away as best you can, watching as Kuroo slides you closer to him without a care in the world. And you want to be mad, you want to push off him and do anything other than sit here and take it, but you can’t. You can’t, because you’re weak. You can’t, because you’re an idiot fangirl, and he’s been everything you’ve wanted since you were thirteen.

“Push your legs together,” he orders, squishing your thighs and reaching down to slip his cock in between them. He fucks your legs with the last of his restraint, pace from fast to punishing, kneading the doughy expanse between his fingers and pressing his forehead to your shoulder. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the shudder down his spine and the tensing of his legs below you, but you don’t process it. Everything feels far away. And then he calls out your name, and cums on your thighs, spilling white all over your panties and skin. He kisses your neck, and your lips after that. And you just stare at the tiles of the boys room showers before he slides you off of him.

Your legs tremble. He quickly uses a towel to clean himself up before tucking himself back in, and smiles down at you. “Thank you so much, baby, that was perfect.” He leans down to press a kiss to your temple as he hands you the towel. “Clean up?” The fluffy towel with the red cat embroidered on it is stained with the cum you clean off yourself, as tears roll down your face. You loved him so much, but now you just hate him. Embarrassed, hurt, useless. Kuroo’s bright face as he talks is another slap in yours. “Lighten up, I’ll lock up the gym for you, okay?” He smiles when you lift your eyes to his figure in the doorway, your crumpled skirt bunched in your hand. “And don’t even worry about it, I’ll walk you home. It’s the least I could do for my fan.”

It is the least he could do.

You nod and put up your most convincing smile.

///

thank you so so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed. did this have to be so long? probably not. did i make it that long anyway? yes. mean kuroo will live rent free in my brain for the coming six months.

[seijohsfairy]

lovingsuna

thinking abt art student hanamaki who needs to find a model that’ll pose for him for his anatomy class sketches, and who better than his sweet little sister 🥺 even when he tells you that you’ll have to be fully nude, you don’t even bat an eye! anything to help your precious niichan!poor hironii, his fingers trembling as you start to groan and huff from holding the position 🥺🥺 ohh if he kept his eyes closed for jus a second longer, he’b b able to manipulate all those pretty sounds into a lil vision of you lying underneath him, looking so cute n pliant 🥺

𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙳𝙾

art student hanamaki (´-ω-`) want him to make little sister his muse, praise and worship that pretty body until you’re shaking from his touch. thank you clare for indulging in our art student hiro again ily

tw incest, nonconsensual ‘pictures’

Nothing is more embarrassing. He’s supposed to be good at this. Supposed to be a professional in training. But his hands are so goddamn shaky that it’s become useless to put pen to paper entirely. He made you take a break, wrapped you back up in the soft robe and handed you some water, but now he’s stuck in the corner of the couch with your head resting against his arm, and for some reason that’s worse. Your chest and the line of your neck is put down on paper only because he had to busy his hands while staring at you. And he knows it’s wrong, he knows too, but you’re so precious when you’re unaware and blissfully ignorant. “Can I watch while we pause, niichan?” you ask, long lashes splayed out above your pretty pupils that look blown so wide.

He can’t help himself. “Of course, c’mere.” You crawl into his lap when he opens his arms, trying not to react when you shift around on his already hardening cock over and over until you find a comfortable space. After a while he has to grab for your hip to hold you still. “Stop wiggling though, I— can’t focus.” You pout, but relent, slumping into him with one arm swung around his shoulders so you can look, and your knees pulled to your chest. You reach up to mindlessly pick at the dark undercut while he draws, only the sound of the pencil and your breathing in the room for a while. He’s too tense to draw nice smooth lines, but you don’t seem to care much.

After a while, you rest your nose against his neck. “Are the other girls you draw like this better models?”

He almost chokes on his air at your croaky tone, pulling back to watch you. “What? No— why- why would you say that?”

As you shift towards him more, he has to bite through a groan, the curve of your ass pressing down right on his length. It takes too much effort not to rut back into you just a little, just to relieve some pressure. You start picking at the edge of his sweater, looking at the piercings at his collar bones instead of his eyes. “Because you almost never ask me, only when no one else is available,” you mumble, sinking into yourself a little more.

“Oh,” he drops his arms at that, putting aside the sketchbook and pencil. His hands hover at your sides then, and again you shift in his lap to turn towards him more. Fuck, it’s almost like you’re doing it on purpose now, but he knows you better. You just crave your big brother’s attention, always have. You always have tried too hard to gain his approval, and it’s lead him— thinking about you like this. It’s fucked up. When he doesn’t respond, you pull your hands away from him, already starting to apologize, but he grabs your wrists to keep you from leaving. “No, no, listen. Hey,” he says, waiting until you look, “you want me to… to ask you for this stuff?”

“I want you to think I’m good enough for it, niichan,” you pout, curling back up to his body even closer. This way your tits are pressed up against his chest and your naked body right on top of his lap and- it’s increasingly tempting to slip out of the room to go jerk off to the thought of you with the second. His pretty, innocent little sister. “Want Hiro nii to pick me instead of other people,” you say. That’s enough to have him tipping you over on the couch, ignoring your squeak as he comes to hover over you, slotting his hips between your legs.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asks, breathing in and out deeply as you stare up at him, your one hand on his chest. “You’re naked in my lap telling me to pick you. Wh- what the hell are you talking about, huh? I’m your big brother. Aren’t you thinking some weird things, huh?” Your wide eyes flick between his for a moment as he holds your wrists down beside your head, thigh coming up between your legs, breaths coming out shallow. But then you fight against the grip enough to brush your soft fingertips up his bicep and tracing over his tattoos with mindless swirls, and wrap your legs slowly around his waist. Hiro nii’s breathing stops completely for a moment when the soft of your naked pussy pushes up against his hard cock through just sweats.

“I- I found the other sketchbook, Hiro nii,” you whisper at him then, and in an instant everything feels like it’s crumbling around him. The other sketchbook. The one with his naked drawings of you when you’re in bed and defenseless, those with the quick doodles of you in the bath when you leave the door open and think he’s not looking, with drawings of you and him in bed and you rocking yourself on his cock— that sketchbook? He shivers when you seem to tighten your legs around him a little more again, hard length twitching between your bodies.

‘I’m sorry,’ is the first thing at the tip of his tongue, but you’re faster. Leaning in to bring your mouth right up to his, clinging to his shoulders. “You want to do this, right?” you say, and then you press forward until he can taste your lips. A few gentle pecks at first, until he regains himself to feel you pulling him closer, his fat cock between your legs and your nails digging into him through his sweater with a whine. “Please, niichan,” you pout, rolling your hips to him and pulling a groan from his throat. “Make me want it too, Hiro nii. I can be good for you.” Again you buck your hips to his, and again, until he has to pull away for a second to inspect you. Your robe is open and almost completely slid off one shoulder, your chest heaving and… your cunny glistening with slick. “See? Want you,” you bring your hand down then, spreading open your lips with two fingers and trailing them back up to your clit.

“I know you touch yourself to me, I walked in on you once. So show me, please.” That’s all he needs to pull his sweatpants down, sweater up and to drop forward, going back to between your legs as he kisses you breathless. Over and over, as he hurries to rub the drooling head of his cock into the warm wetness between your legs. You whine softly when he pushes inside the head, pulling away from his mouth to drop your face back and let your mouth fall open. He grabs your tits with both hands when you allow him to go deeper into your pretty, wet pussy, laving kisses all over.

“Fuck, my little sister’s too pretty, drives me crazy,” he grunts, watching your expression when he shoves himself in the last part of the way. Your walls stretched around his cock, clinging to him when he pulls back out. “Fucking- shit, you’re so tight.” And then when you cry his name when he thrusts back into you, he squeezes your skin between his fingers until his fingertips leave marks, grabbing onto your hips and yanking you back down onto him to start a hard, unforgiving pace. The slaps of skin meeting skin are loud, and so are his grunts as he mumbles your name. “Niichan’s gonna fuck your pretty, tight cunt until you never want anyone else again. Promise.”