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sugamii

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MSBY's manager (real) [they/she, 19]

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sugamii · 1 year

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notes: inspired by this post i made awhile ago. this is definitely not self indulgent.

the grunts and pants that come from above you are hard to ignore. you feel your face burn with shyness and embarrassment while attempting to block out the sounds, despite being extremely hyper aware of them.

“k-kei! slow down, it’s embarrassing!” you plea, overwhelmed by the rapid movement of his slender hips.

“embarrassing?” tsukishima tilts his head and his gaze darkens with anger, “let me get this straight, you’re embarrassed to get your hole bullied by my cock?”

“n-no!” you yelp, legs quivering from how he has you folded over. you squeeze your eyes shut. “it’s…it’s-”

“it’s what?” he gives a particularly harsh thrust that makes you gasp, reopen your eyes, and grasp tighter onto his bicep.

“i just feel weird…” you whisper sadly.

he clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. despite the lack of words, he knows exactly what you mean. “you think i’d be fucking you if i didn’t find you attractive, idiot? you think i’d be balls deep in this sweet, tight hole right now?”

the use of such vulgar language causes you to turn your head away.

“aht aht ahh,” slender fingers grip your chin and harshly jerks it so that your eyes are focused on where the two of your bodies meet.

“i’ll say this once. you better keep your eyes focused here or i won’t let you cum. i’ll cum all over this hole and just leave you. am i clear?” he hisses, jerking his hips harder slightly.

“y-yes sir…” you nod, a small whimper leaving your throat as you try to ignore the obscene squelching noises coming from where his heavy cock carves it’s way into you. your hole shamelessly gushes around him, inviting more of his fat cock to enter you with ease.

“good,” he moans, leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. he then presses his forehead to yours, and closes his eyes as he focuses on chasing his release. a gentle, sweet kiss contrasts his filthy, degrading words that comes next. “because i don’t plan on cumming anywhere but inside of you, you beautiful, dumb whore.”

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sugamii · 1 year

Text

King

Part II.

You hate Tsukishima Kei. With a passion. Seriously. But what happens when you, the manager of his college volleyball team, get stuck in a hotel room with him? For an entire week... With only a king bed for both of you to sleep on...

Warnings: fem!bodied reader, choking, unprotected sex, bullying (on both sides), one bed trope (lol).

Word Count: 4900+

Minors DNI, please and thank you. All characters are 18+.

A/N: I'm back with another Tsukki drabble 😌 Let's fucking go.

Smut is below the cut, as always.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” the coach was saying on the other end of the phone, “but because we added Jiro so last minute this week, I’m going to have to put you with one of the guys on the team. I already called the hotel, and they don’t have any more rooms available.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. Of course. You didn’t think of this when Jiro unexpectedly transferred into the program and made the volleyball team this past week. You had been so wrapped up in your own excitement for the tournament that you forgot you wouldn’t get a room all to yourself this time.

“It’s no biggie, Coach,” you reply. But it is a biggie. “I don’t mind.” But I do mind. “Put me with whoever is willing to room with me!” Don’t you dare put me with that bastard Tsukishima.

“Y/N, I really can’t thank you enough for being so understanding. I’ll make sure to be extra careful next tournament so I can give you your own room like normal! Can’t wait to see you Monday morning!”

After you hang up the phone, you find annoyance bubbling up in your chest. It would be your luck that the hotel is fully booked, but then you should have expected that considering what tournament was happening this upcoming week. As you shove stuff into your suitcase, you try to come to terms with who you might room with. Jiro would be fine, since you didn’t really know each other. You’d even be fine with the team captain, Yuuji. Anyone but Tsukishima.

Before you went to sleep for the night, you prayed to any God out there that you’d get paired with anyone else on the team.

But your prayers go unanswered.

“Everyone was too shy to room with you, Y/N,” Coach was explaining to you as he walked you to your room. You had a glare plastered on your face at him. “And no one wanted to room with Tsukishima either. So, the best thing I could have done to make sure my team gets along for this tournament is-”

“To put Tsukishima with me?” you say with disgust.

“I’m not happy about it either,” Tsukishima says from beside you, glare also evident on his face. Only it’s directed at you.

You turn a harsh look on him. “No one was speaking to you, four eyes,” you snap.

“You little…” he mutters, turning to tower over you.

“Okay, you two,” the coach interrupts. “Here is your room.” He scans the key card and ushers Tsukishima in. He turns to you, handing you the key card before ushering you in as well. “Don’t lose that. I want you to be in charge of it.” You nod along as you step into the room.

“WHAT?” Tsukishima yells from inside.

You feel your annoyance bubbling up to the surface again. “Oi, Tsukishima, pipe down,” you scold.

“Y/N,” he says to get your attention. You finally glance up at him, glare ready, eye twitching to find him looking worse for wear. “There’s only one bed.”

You feel your face drop and whirl yourself around to tell coach.

“Uh, I gotta go check on the others!” he says as he dashes out of the doorway, letting the door come to a close.

So, you stand there, next to the bastard Tsukishima, at the foot of the bed, both of you in utter disbelief as you stare at the one king sized bed in the center of the room. It’s silent for a long moment.

“You’re sleeping on the floor,” you tell him matter-of-factly.

“What?!” he exclaims. “The floor is hardwood, Y/N! I have a tournament to play in this week! You’re the one that is going to be sleeping on the floor.”

You turn to him, a look of utter disgust on your face only to find he is returning the look. “You’d really make your team manager sleep on the hardwood floor?” you ask, hoping to bait him into saying no, he wouldn’t do that to you.

“Yes.”

“What?” you ask in disbelief.

“Yes, I would make my snotty team manager sleep on the hardwood floor.” He sneers down at you.

Before you can stop yourself, you raise a fist, ready to punch him, but he just sticks an arm out, hand pressing against your forehead as he continues to push you away, laughing as you struggle to get a hit in. This bastard and his ridiculously long monkey arms…

You huff out as you straighten your clothes, and he crosses his arms. “I’m going to take a shower,” you tell him. “And when I come out, I better see your bed made up on the floor.”

He scoffs and waves you away with a roll of his eyes. You feel your eye start twitching again as you close the door to the bathroom and turn the water on. As you step into the shower, you feel your anger spike again. How dare he try to make you sleep on the floor?! Didn’t his mother teach him any manners?!

You were hoping the warm water would calm you down, but as you step out onto the towel outside of the shower you find that, in your annoyance, you forgot to get your clothes from your suitcase. You curse yourself underneath your breath before wrapping a towel tightly around your body.

You crack open the bathroom door and peek out. You can see Tsukishima lounging on the bed in the reflection of the mirror right outside the bathroom door. He’s playing on his phone. Thinking you could get to your suitcase quickly without him noticing, you pad out to the living area only to come to a halt when you realize your suitcase is on the side of the bed he is currently laying on.

“T-Tsukishima,” you stutter out, nerves getting the best of you.

“What is it now?” he says as he lowers his phone to glare at you.

Your face reddens as he makes eye contact, his glare falling into a look of awe and disbelief. His own face begins to redden before he turns quickly away.

“Have you lost your mind?!” he damn near shouts at you.

“I forgot my clothes, you asshole!” you shout at his back. “And my suitcase is by you!”

“Well, hurry up and get your clothes, for Christ’s sake!”

You hesitate. “Don’t look at me,” you tell him, voice soft. “Promise you won’t look at me and then I’ll be able to get my clothes.”

He takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. “I won’t look,” he promises, voice surprisingly gentle. “I closed my eyes.”

You get to your suitcase and quickly throw it open. As you’re rummaging through its contents you glance up to see that his eyes were, in fact, closed. You feel your heart skip a beat at that, for whatever reason, and speed walk back to the bathroom with your clothes in hand.

Tsukishima waits until he hears the bathroom door close again before he blows out the breath he was holding. He turns to look at the space you just occupied outside of the bathroom door and feels his face heat up again. He knew you were pretty. Hell, everyone knew you were drop dead gorgeous. Other teams would make comments before, during and after games. It drove him and his teammates nuts. Though, they would all be lying if they said they never fantasized about you before. Him included. He would often find himself being dragged into locker room talk about you after practice, after games, during team study sessions that you were never invited to. He never participated simply because he respected you too much to talk about you in that manner. His teammates thought it was just because he hated you.

The way you two interacted never went unnoticed by anyone. Perhaps putting you two together in a room was the coach’s way of telling you two to get over it. It felt like Coach was telling him he had to be friends with you. The only problem is that Tsukishima didn’t want to be friends with you in the first place.

And so, he finds himself setting up a wall of pillows in the middle of the bed. He doesn’t want to sleep on the floor, and he certainly doesn’t want you to. As he is placing the last pillow, you exit the bathroom, wet hair dripping onto the oversized tee shirt you were wearing. When he turns to look at you, he notices that the tips of your cheekbones are still a light shade of pink. Then he glances down.

“Oi, Y/N,” he says lowly, voice laced with annoyance.

“What?” you snap back.

“Where are your pants?” He points at your bare legs.

You feel your face heat up at ten times the speed. “I am wearing pants!” you exclaim, hoisting your shirt up past your navel in anger. “I’m wearing shorts!”

In your haste, you didn’t realize just how high you had yanked the shirt up.

So, there you were, shirt held tightly in your hands showing off your short sleep shorts… and the bottom half of your breasts.

“Put your shirt down!” he shouts, nearly tripping over his own suitcase as he runs over to you, grabs the hem, and yanks your shirt back down over your body.

You turn your face up at him, brows knitting together as you frown at him, completely unaware of just how much you were showing him. “I was just showing you that I had shorts on underneath this shirt,” you tell him.

“Yes, yes,” he responds, “you’ve made your point.” But I didn’t need to see that, he thinks to himself. Now how will I be able to sleep knowing they’re right next to me? And they look like that?

His hands fist into your shirt at your waist and you suddenly become very aware of him touching you.

“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking a giant step away from him and pushing his hands off of you. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

As Tsukishima is brushing his teeth, you walk around the room to shut lights off, leaving the bedside light on, and adjust the thermostat. You come to a halt as you lift the covers to get into the bed. You stare blankly at the wall of pillows in the center.

Tsukishima exits the bathroom, then, yawning loudly, stopping when you turn an annoyed look on him.

“I told you to sleep on the floor,” you ground out.

“And I told you, not happening,” he answers, voice snide.

“So, your solution was to put pillows between us?”

“I felt like it was a fair compromise,” he answers. “I don’t want to touch you; you don’t want to touch me.”

“And you think pillows are going to keep us separated? All night?”

“I do. Oh, and you’re sleeping closest to the wall.” He moves to where you’re standing, pushing you aside and climbing into the bed.

You stand there in disbelief. He must have lost his mind. You turn to glance around the room and notice that the side closest to the wall is farthest from the door. You feel your heart skip a beat again.

“Tick tock, Y/N,” he says as he reaches to shut the last lamp off. “What will it be?” He sneers up at you before he flips the switch, and the room goes black.

Before you can think too much about it, you stomp over to the other side of the bed.

“Stay on your side,” you tell him as you settle in.

“That won’t be a problem,” he answers back.

You turn on your side away from him, staring at the wall for what feels like forever until sleep finally pulls you under.

A knock on the door wakes you up the next morning, a voice outside telling you to come get breakfast before the bus leaves in two hours for the games.

But it’s so warm, you think as you burrow your head deeper into your pillow. You could get away with five more minutes, right? But another knock sounds on the door, signaling that it was, indeed, time to get up. You forgot coach made two rounds just ten minutes apart.

As your eyes flutter open, you realize why you feel so warm.

Tsukishima’s arms are wound tightly around your waist, your head comfortably tucked underneath his chin, face pressed into his chest. Your own arms betrayed you in your sleep as well, you notice, as you become painfully aware of their position around his body. The pillows that were meant to keep you separated are nowhere in sight. You feel your anxiety spike when you realize he has you practically trapped.

“Tsukishima,” you say trying to wake him.

He groans before his arms tighten around you. “Five more minutes,” he pleads, voice groggy. If you weren’t so anxious, you would think he sounded somewhat hot.

“Tsukki,” you try again, opting for his nickname.

He groans again, body shifting slightly before sighing, still not awake.

“Tsukki,” you say, louder this time.

He finally opens one eye to look at you, annoyed. You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, pleading with him silently to let you go.

“Uhm,” you start.

“Why are you so close to me?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

Instead of answering, you move your eyes down to look at his arms currently wrapped around your waist. It takes Tsukishima a long second to realize why you’re so close to him. Then he is shoving you away from him as if he had touched a hot stovetop. You shriek as he launches himself away from you and off the bed, waist throbbing in pain from where he had hastily shoved you away. You rub the spot with a hand.

“What the hell, Tsukishima?” You glare at him. “You didn’t have to push me that hard.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” he suggests before turning on his heel and heading into the bathroom.

So, you decide to ignore what happened. For days. If the team advances every single day, you could be sharing a room with him for the next seven days. Lo and behold, they do. You had been avoiding each other since you woke up somehow encased in his arms, eating meals separately and coming back to the hotel room at different times.

But the night before the championship game, the coach makes everyone go to their rooms early, saying something about how everyone needs to get a good night of sleep.

And so here you are, at 10:00 PM, wide awake next to the wide-awake Tsukishima whom you haven’t spoken to in days simply because you haven’t had to. Nor did you really want to, for that matter. You’re separated by pillows, but it feels like he is closer than ever to you. If you concentrated hard enough, you could hear his breathing.

“Ugh,” you finally groan. “I can’t sleep.” You frown up at the ceiling.

“Maybe if you changed your attitude, you’d be asleep by now,” Tsukishima says from beside you.

You sit up to glare at him. “I don’t see you sleeping either,” you point out.

“I’m not sleeping because I’ve chosen not to sleep yet,” he replies.

You scoff. “Yeah right, I bet its because you’ve had to sit the bench the last two games.” You were taking a low blow, you knew that. But still, you said it.

He shoots up into a sitting position on his side of the bed now, returning your glare with just as much fervor. “It’s not my fault I’ve been off my game the last couple of days. It’s because I have to share a room with the most aggravating person on the planet!”

“Oh yes, because it’s certainly not the fact that you suck at volleyball.”

Suddenly, he’s in your face. “Say that again,” he dares you.

You swallow thickly before shaking your head, glare nowhere to be found now.

“Funny how you think I suck at volleyball, but I must be good at something else in your dreams.”

You feel your face heat up. “W-what are you talking about?” you stutter.

“You mean to tell me you haven’t been dreaming of me every single night since that first morning?”

“No,” you answer, a little too quickly. You avert your gaze away from him.

“You trying to tell me you aren’t the one I hear every night moaning ‘Yes, Tsukki, right there, Tsukki’?” His voice goes up an octave as he imitates your voice and you’d very much like to crawl in a hole and die.

You had had dreams about him this week, yes, you couldn’t deny that. But were you really moaning for him in your sleep?

“You’re lying,” you accuse, voice shaky.

“Am I, though?” His hand finds its way underneath your chin, tilting your face up to his. When your gazes meet, you find that he is suffocatingly close to you. One wrong move and your lips could be touching. “Look me in the face and tell me I’m lying.” His voice oozes confidence.

Suddenly, your tongue feels too big for your mouth. You can’t even form words as you try to look away from him. To be honest, you didn’t know if he was lying or not, but you can’t exactly hear yourself while you sleep.

“Huh, look at that,” he muses as his hand moves from your chin, gliding across your jaw and into your hair at the nape of your neck. “Cat got your tongue?” He’s mocking you now. His hand fists into your hair as you avert your eyes again and he yanks your head back to look at him. You gasp out, surprised. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” When you make eye contact with him again, he smirks. “Good girl.”

You feel your face heat up at his words, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach as butterflies erupt across your chest.

“Oh? Did you like that?”

You try to shake your head no but find that you can’t move because his hand is still in your hair.

“Use your words, Y/N,” he tells you, voice stern.

You swallow. “N-No,” you stammer.

Suddenly, his lips are by your ear. “Liar,” he whispers, sending a shiver down your spine. The feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear has your sex throbbing. God, you feel like such a virgin right now.

He chuckles as he pulls back to look at your face, lips tilting up into another smirk. Your eyes are wide and doe-like, shining with a few tears, almost like you’re begging for him to take it a step further. Your bottom lip is quivering slightly, and he thinks it’s cute. He searches your face as he shifts onto his knees in front of you, hand loosening in your hair as he cups your head in his hands, thumbs underneath your jaw to direct your face up to his.

“Tell me if I’m taking things too far,” he murmurs, voice suddenly soft.

You don’t even have time to react when he crashes his lips roughly into yours. You gasp out of surprise, and he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. As his tongue strokes yours for the first time, you let out a soft moan at the feeling and finally return his kiss.

Tsukishima almost sighs in relief as you come alive beneath him, and he begins shoving you down onto the mattress. You let him, back hitting the mattress as he moves his mouth to your neck. You part your knees to accommodate his body as his hips make contact with your own. You crane your neck to give him more access as he sucks a bruise right into your jugular. He’s pushing your shirt up and grabbing both of your breasts roughly in his hands. Involuntarily, you thrust your hips up into his, causing his clothed cock to rub right up against your core.

He moves his mouth down quickly to capture a nipple. You cover your mouth to keep yourself from moaning as his tongue flicks across the hardening bud, hips grinding down into you to rub his hardening dick against you again. You moan at the feeling, essence leaking out into your panties as he switches sides, giving the same treatment to your other nipple, hands holding your hips in place as he relentlessly grinds against you.

Your hands are in his hair, back arching to push your tit further into his mouth as you moan out a soft call of his nickname.

His weight leaves your body as he moves to loom above you, hands planted by your head to hold himself up. He’s looking down at you, annoyed, sizing you up. Your chest is heaving, tits on full display with your shirt pushed up past your chest. Your lips are swollen, and your face is flushed.

“It’s Kei to you, right now,” he informs you, voice low. “Got it?”

You nod at him as you try to catch your breath.

Before you realize what he is doing, he has a hand in your sleep shorts and two fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping hole. You gasp out, hand reaching to wrap around his wrist.

“Words, Y/N,” he reminds you as he watches your face contort in pleasure beneath him.

His fingers begin to pull out. “Ye-” you begin, but he shoves his fingers right back into you, smirking as you finish the S, the sound somewhere between a hiss and a moan.

“Thatta girl,” he praises as he slowly begins fucking you with his fingers, mouth finding its way back to your left nipple.

He sucks the bud into his mouth harshly, ripping a loud moan from your chest as he hooks his fingers up inside of you to hit your g-spot at the same time. He pulls his fingers from your shorts as he begins kissing down your body, fingers moving to pull your shorts and underwear off as his tongue glides across your navel. He sits up and tosses the garments to the floor. Suddenly feeling shy, you close your legs off to him. He makes eye contact with you as his hands find your knees and roughly push your legs apart, baring your pussy to him for the first time.

“Fuck,” he mutters as his hands glide down your inner thighs, body moving to settle his face right where you wanted him the most.

He makes eye contact with you as he brings his mouth closer to your sex, tongue darting out to lick a stripe right between your folds. He groans, eyes closing for a moment.

“Just as I thought,” he comments, “taste so fucking sweet.”

Your face heats up at double the speed, but before you can respond he dives right in, eating you like a man starved. His tongue makes figure eights over your clit, and you tangle your hands in his hair, shoving him deeper into you.

“Yes, Kei,” you moan out as he sucks your clit into his mouth. The sound of his first name falling from your lips like that sounds so hot to him that he finds himself leaving your core in favor of quickly pulling off his own clothes.

You watch as he settles over you, now naked, cock finding its home right between your folds as his lips find yours in a searing kiss.

“Let me fuck you,” he begs as he pulls back, voice almost coming out as a whine, lips millimeters away from yours. He grinds his hips into you for emphasis, cock head bumping into your clit.

To answer him, you reach down to grab up his dick in your hand, eyes never leaving his. You give it a few good pumps before guiding him into you. Your mouth falls open as he slowly pushes past your entrance, small gasps leaving your lips at the feeling of him filling you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he grounds out. “Relax, Y/N.”

You groan as he continues to push into you. Relax? How can you relax when the man you’ve been secretly pining for is currently all over you? Not to mention in you.

You reach up and pinch his bicep.

“Ow, what the hell?” He rubs the spot you pinched, glaring down at you.

“Oh, good. I’m not dreaming,” you reply, voice shaky, breathy laugh pushing past your lips. Without thinking, you bury your hands back into his hair and yank his face back down to yours, planting a kiss on his lips and licking into his mouth when he opens it to you.

His hips begin moving of their own accord, slowly rolling into you as your kiss gets more and more desperate. With each roll of his hips, it feels like he keeps reaching deeper and deeper inside you. You pull away from his lips to let out a load moan as the head of his cock grazes your cervix. His mouth heads south, licking and nipping at the skin on your jaw, neck and collarbones.

“You feel so fucking good,” he says into your skin before he’s reaching to push your knees up into your chest, effectively reaching a new depth inside of you.

You gasp out, finding it hard to catch your breath as your hands reach out to press against his abdomen. It does no good, though, as he relentlessly continues fucking you with a smirk plastered on his face.

“W-wait,” you gasp out, head falling back as stars find the edges of your vision when he picks up the pace. You feel the pleasure building up in your abdomen.

“No,” he tells you simply, voice breathy.

“No, wait,” you try again as the pleasure nears its peak. You want to hold out for as long as possible, but you don’t think you’ll be able to at the rate you’re going.

He shoves two fingers into your mouth, pressing your tongue down.

“Shh,” he shushes you.

You’re too stunned to push him away, but at the same time the action has your pussy clenching around him, and he curses from above you. With every thrust, the cord pulls tighter and tighter in your belly. It becomes almost painful trying to keep it at bay.

“Come on,” he encourages you, fingers leaving your mouth and opting to wrap around your neck. “Cum for me.”

At his words, you let yourself go, cumming around him as he continues fucking you, slowly pushing in and out of you while he tries to slow his own orgasm.

“That’s my girl,” he praises as you come down, letting your feet fall back to the bed and planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

Before you can react, Tsukishima suddenly flips over onto your stomach and pulls your hips up, putting you on your hands and knees. You look back at him with wide eyes as he prods your entrance with his still hard cock before fully sheathing himself back inside you in one thrust.

Your back arches at the action, head falling back as a moan escapes your throat. He takes the opportunity to fist his hand into your hair and yank your body up so your back is flush against his front. He wraps his free arm around your waist, the hand that was wrapped in your hair coming around to find its home back around the column of your neck.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder as he continues fucking you, small gasps of “yes” leaving your lips as he builds you right back up to the edge.

“Look at you,” he comments. “You’re so fucking hot. It’s almost a shame I get to be the only one to see you like this.”

You can’t form a single coherent thought as you warn him of your approaching orgasm. He presses you right back down into the mattress to pick up his pace, slamming into you from behind as you bury your face into a pillow, crying out as you teeter right over the edge.

He fucks you through it again, pulling out at the last second to pump his length a few times before spilling his seed right onto your bare ass.

You both stay still as you come down, catching your breaths. It’s suddenly silent in your hotel room as the reality of what just happened dawns on both of you. You wait a few more beats, giving him a chance to break the silence before you do.

“Oi, Tsukishima…” you start, usual tone settled back into your voice. “You better clean that up.”

“Right…” he mutters. He leaves the bed to get a wet cloth, coming back to thoroughly wipe his cum off your ass.

You settle back onto your side of the bed as Tsukishima tosses the rag back into the bathroom. When he settles back onto his side you finally speak.

“Let’s… not talk about this,” you suggest.

He’s silent on the other side, probably in agreement, you think. So, you close your eyes in an attempt to fall asleep, tears hot on your cheeks as they silently stain the pillow beneath your head in the dark.

Only you don’t know that Tsukishima is on the other side of the bed, hoping just as much as you are that that meant as much to you as it did to him.

#i have no words #he is the love of my life

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sugamii · 1 year

Text

This drabble turned lowkey fic…me reading/hearing about angel cunt from Jo once and trying to make it my whole personality now. LOL. Legit this was supposed to be a hot drabble thirst but we are 4k in and uh now its a fic. Please enjoy

Synopsis: Adult film star and wholly emotionally unavailable, Bakugou struggles to nut on set until he meets you, the pro cam girl, who might just be the girl of his dreams.

Warnings: Slapping (cheek and puss), choking, mentions of nut and squirting dude this is strictly porn without plot so I’m not sure what you expect but its filth below, aye yo he’s 28

Bakugou has worked in the adult film industry for years and yet he has never had a happy ending. He never nuts and not because he takes Viagra or anything but because….well actually he doesn’t know why. He loves pussy, loves cock. Loves to fuck and be fucked.

But he’s only ever nutted with people he was close with and oftentimes in private. With a mountainous man arching his back as an angry ash blonde tops him. Or he’s only ever cum when he was shit faced drunk.

Regardless, oftentimes a happy ending in a Bakugou film is coconut cream mixed with spit that falls out of the woman’s or man’s mouth.

So today should be a typical day at the office for Bakugou. Fruitlessly chasing his high, getting so close when someone else cums but never having it for himself. He’s set to work with someone knew. You, the star of a huge pro cam girl site. Rumor had it you had been offered a lot of money for a ONE time film with Bakugou with the contractual obligation of royalties. It was going to be such a pretty penny you planned to start retiring after the film. Only having plans of a few more live streams and rounds of nudes before you were going to call it quits and work on your dream life.

Keep reading

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sugamii · 1 year

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he was wrapped around your finger. and it had taken months for you to understand just how true that statement was. seeing the way his eyes lit up as you leaned in to kiss him, only for the look to drop from his face when you moved to kiss him on the cheek instead. you would be death of him, he was sure.

you'd been best friends for so long that it felt natural to be with him like this. it didn't bother you as much as you thought it might, finally realizing that he had been in love with you that entire time. because, even as he fell for you, all he had ever wanted was to be near you. to see that you were happy, that someone was taking care of you.

it finally clicks as you watch his face after your "rejection." he's pouting down at you now, you can tell that he's not really upset as he's struggling to keep himself from smiling. how could he be upset looking down at your face and seeing the laughter in your eyes? you're making it difficult to stay annoyed - even if it was fake.

"you're always so mean to me. three years of waiting and this is how i'm treated?" he's still frowning, but it's far too droopy to be real. he never had been subtle with his facial expressions, it was one of the many things you loved about him.

you pat his cheek with your free hand, the other one still being held by him. "but don't you just love it?" is your reply, trying to keep the smile out of your voice while looking into his not-so-sad eyes. the best part of all of this is watching him cave and give up on his act.

"i do," he says with a smile so wide anyone else might've thought he was still faking. he looks like a lovesick puppy and, in that moment, you realize that maybe it felt natural because you had loved him from the start. he wasn't alone in that, you were wrapped around his finger and you were sure he'd be the death of you too. "i really, really do."

characters: issei matsukawa, satori tendo!!!!, kotaro bokuto, tetsuro kuroo, ryuunosuke tanaka, atsumu miya,,,

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sugamii · 1 year

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Three's a crowd

Word count: 32k

It's not often you and all your best friends can hang out and have a movie night together, not while balancing everything else required to live the model adult life.

So you take advantage of the rare opportunity to make, potentially, a very dumb decision.

What harm could there be in taking three edibles at once? Your best friends are here to take care of you, there's nothing for you to worry about.

What could be so scary about the fact that not a single one of them is paying attention to the TV? (Except Bo, at least he's invested.) Or, the way that they can't seem to keep their hands off of you. You're rather open with your affection, but they've never been so touchy before, not like this. They've never had you sit in their lap while they run their hands over your body, they've never knelt between your legs with a crooked smile, never slid their hands beneath the waistband of your shorts.

What might be scary, though, is how they wait until they're absolutely sure your edibles have kicked in to drop the façade, when they know for sure you won't be able to remember a single thing they do to you.

What harm could there be, indeed.

(Dubcon-turned-consensual, orgy, dom/sub dynamics, drugs, fem!reader, double penetration (same hole,) anal m!receiving, roleplay, oral, hand jobs, overstimming, reader is put thru the ringer, hella aftercare, poly dynamics. )

“Are you sure that taking three isn’t going to be too much?”

Akaashi’s voice is fairly dubious, heavy with suspicion as he’s eyeing you with an expression of blatant concern and doubt.

He’s seated in an oversized armchair nestled against the window, just barely out of reach from your spot on the far right of your well-loved couch. Your legs are tossed over Bokuto’s lap, his warm hands rubbing absentmindedly at your calves while listening to your conversation.

“It’s not gonna be that bad y’know, I took two before and felt fine.” You try to reassure him, twisting around in your spot so that you can actually see him while you talk. The look on his face, however, is far from promising. The intense furrow in his brow is enough to tell you that you’re not as convincing as you might want to be.

After all, ‘fine’ actually meant that you were completely laid out and had to have Tsukishima take care of you while you were sprawled on his kitchen floor trying to explain to him why your arms were so tingly, so you can’t be too surprised that Akaashi doesn’t believe you.

Kuroo snorts out a laugh from his side at the other end of the couch, his legs overlapping with yours. He throws a particularly cocky grin your way, eyes like dark whiskey glinting in the light from the TV. “You were definitely not fine. Tsukki called me that night, freaking out because he couldn’t figure out why you were telling him you had bees in your arms.”

You snicker, but said blonde looks less than pleased, glaring at you from where he stands in the kitchen with his elbows leaned on the counter while he scrolls through his phone. “I’m seriously not taking care of you this time, not again.” He warns you, his scowl deepening when both you and Kuroo share a doubtful look.

He says the same thing almost every time, that he’s going to leave you to fend for yourself, that you’re just going to have to ask someone else for help. He never follows through with it, always one of the first ones to get you whatever you need. Even if he complains about it.

“If you say so!” You grin, trying to stifle it when Kuroo gently kicks your leg, barely able to hide a smirk of his own. Kei glowers , hunched over the counter with his phone held tight in both hands. His face is tinged pink, and even far away you can catch the hard swallow that bobs his throat, because he knows, and he knows that you know.

He’ll always take care of you.

You turn back towards Akaashi, stretching your arm out as far as you can in his direction and wiggling your fingers to catch his attention as though you didn’t already have it to begin with. His expression is decidedly unimpressed, leveling you with a look that you could almost assume is a glare, if you didn’t know better. Akaashi rarely gets angry , so you’ve picked up the horrid habit of pushing his buttons when you know he’s more likely to indulge you.

You wave your hand around dramatically, making grabby motions with your fingers until he’s rolling his eyes and smiling, though he tries to hide it by biting the insides of his lips to keep them from curling.

“I’ll be okay, ‘Kaashi.” It’s a flimsy assurance, your impulse control when under the influence is, to say frankly, utter shit. You’re constantly getting into shit you shouldn’t, constantly trying to do things that you shouldn’t, and you’re always trying to make weird, spur of the moment decisions. So, you don’t bother trying to promise him that you won’t do anything stupid. He'd just call you a liar anyway.

But you’re not alone, so at least when you’re making dumb decisions like this you aren’t by yourself in case something goes wrong. You’re with your closest friends, people who you know and trust to take care of you, you wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.

Kuroo especially, even though he’ll never admit it outloud, he actually likes it when you get high around him. He’s seen firsthand during old college parties the way you would decline any weed or alcohol flat out, unwilling to let yourself be in that kind of vulnerable position without being near people you trusted. That you feel safe enough to do it around him says volumes, and so he tends to coddle you a little whenever you get high, though he refuses to acknowledge that he does so.

He’s usually the second one to sneak you snacks though, only rivaled by Bokuto in his efforts to spoil you when you get stupid.

Bokuto, in contrast, has always been vocal about how much he loves it, loves the way you giggle at nothing and the way you always get a little clingier towards everyone. He’s never gotten high with you, but his energy is infectious, and the two of you feed into each other with horrible impulse purchases and loud peals of laughter well after everyone else has gone to sleep, to the detriment of the others. Your late night edibles have been the cause of many a midnight trip to the convenience store for snacks, trips that Bokuto is more than happy to accompany you on.

No matter how much these edibles might fuck you up, you have your guys who will take care of you, so you aren’t worried in the slightest.

Akaashi sighs, his stern expression faltering when he sees the easy smile on your face, your arm still stretched out towards him. The facade cracks a little, but you don’t find blatant concern hidden beneath the surface like you expect.

He looks excited. For just a second, pupils blown wide against the navy expanse of his iris, a flush that simmers high on his cheekbones, fingers clenched tight on the arms of the chair as he sucks in a quick breath.

Then it’s gone, he gives in and moves to take your hand, having to lean over the side of his chair just to reach you. His fingers are gentle as they wrap around yours, weathered from years of volleyball and keeping up with the other three on the off occasion when they can convince him to set for their practice. You squeeze once in an attempt at a comforting gesture, wanting to try to reassure him, but then his thumb glides over your knuckles in a ghost of a caress that feels strangely possessive. A shiver races up your spine and his grip tightens, if only briefly, and you suddenly feel much more aware of the other three pairs of eyes on you.

You pull away, instinctive, hiding another shiver when his face sours at your retreat. Bo keeps you steady when you lean forward to snag the bottle of edibles from your coffee table, hands warm on your calves and firm enough to pull you back up when you begin to slide off the couch.

You pop three gummies into your mouth, grimacing as the bitter, astringent taste coats your tongue. Even with a thin layer of sugar on the outside, it does nothing to disguise the flavor of THC. It tastes like you licked the floor of a recently sanitized hospital.

“Gross.” You groan, sticking your tongue out as if that will help remove the awful flavor from your mouth. Kuroo snickers at you, gently bopping you with his leg again to get your attention. You nudge him back, playfully scowling at his sly grin, the way he tips his head back to peer at you with half-lidded eyes.

“That bad?” He asks, like he does every time, grin stretching when you throw the small container at him. Bo catches it instead, pointedly ignoring the look of utter betrayal you send his way.

“Awful, tastes like juice and sanitizer.”

An arm stretches out from over your shoulder, a bottle of juice held loosely between slender fingers and dangled in front of your face. You let your head fall against the back of the couch to see Tsukishima curled over you, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He frowns at you, clearly waiting for you to take the bottle so he can move, but you wait a little longer to drag it out. He’s pretty like this, with his eyes bright from the reflected light of the TV.

When he sees you aren’t going to take it, he makes a low noise of frustration and drops the bottle in your lap.

“Thank you, Kei.” You sing sweetly, uncapping the drink to take a small sip and pointedly ignoring his pissy huff, watching as he turns away to return to his place in the kitchen.

You had tried to get him to come join you on the couch before, but with Bo and Kuroo sprawled into the small space beside you, there wasn’t enough room and he didn’t seem to want to relax anyway. It’s like he’s on edge, fingers tapping at the kitchen counter while he watches the TV with blank eyes, seeing but not really paying attention.

You turn back to the show, settling against the arm of the couch and reaching out towards Bokuto, waiting with your hand upturned for him to take it. His fingers immediately lace between yours and tighten until your palms kiss, and the sweet smile he gives you is enough to make you feel molten and dewy, soft beneath the warmth of his affection.

Part of you wants to reach for Akaashi again as well, the urge to touch him is almost a tangible thing that festers, but he’s too far away and looks comfortable in his spot, so you reign in the urge to pester him for his hand. It’s hard to shake, and the fingers of your free hand curl inwards to form a fist as a tangible way to quell the desire.

Kuroo bumps his foot into your leg, though, almost like he knows you’re at the stage of your budding high where you begin to want some form of physical contact. You bump him back, grinning when he smirks at you, Bo stuck in the middle as you begin trying to push each other’s legs off of his lap. He has the advantage, stronger, legs longer than yours, but he goes easy on you when you’re high.

If you were sober, though, he’d be merciless. Kuroo hates losing.

Nights like this are common, or as common as they can be when your friends are athletes, an editor, and a businessman, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is different tonight. Kuroo is messing with you as usual, Kei is being a grump like every other night, Akaashi toes the line between being a disgruntled parent and being just as mischievous as Kuroo, and Bo is your willing cuddle buddy as always. Nothing is different, but you can’t quite relax.

You can’t figure out why.

Maybe it’s the way none of them are actually watching TV, other than Bokuto. They’re stealing glances in your direction, sharing undecipherable looks with each other when they think you aren’t paying attention, touching you more than usual. You don’t mind the affection, but it feels a little off. Unease creeps up your throat, but Bo’s hand is steady against your calves, warm and reassuring as he’s always been, soft from the lotion he’d let you apply hours ago.

If there was something wrong, you’re sure he wouldn’t be this calm or collected, he’s terrible at hiding when he’s upset and he never really tries to. You tighten your grip on his hand, a questioning squeeze, and he answers immediately. Reassuring, and then Kuroo reaches out to curl his fingers along the sensitive skin of your ankle, thumb smoothing over the arch to capture your attention.

When he has it, he smiles, unlike the typical catlike smirks that curl at his lips, it’s inviting and indulgent. He squeezes your ankle once and shares a look with Bo, something hidden and secret passing between them, but your thoughts are turning syrupy and you’re finding it a little hard to remember what had you so stressed to begin with.

They touch you slowly, warm hands sliding up and down your legs in rhythmic loops that have you melting into the couch, missing the way Akaashi watches with burning eyes as you let out a pleasured murmur and how he tenses up in his seat, missing how Kei nearly chokes on air at the sound and covers his mouth with one hand, brows knitted tightly together.

You can’t feel the weight of their attention, but if you could it would surely be stifling.

Each passing episode of your show begins to bleed into the next, a blur of colorful pixels and noise that slowly melds into a single cacophony against your senses, as if you’ve fully zoned out. Sometimes you startle out of it, muscles tensing up as you straighten, before relaxing when you remember where you are.

Somewhere along the hour, you end up in Bokuto’s lap, his chest snug against your back and his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. He’s warm, his chin tucked over your shoulder so he can still see the screen, humming happily when he squishes his cheek against yours.

You giggle and press your face against his in return, the two of you snickering together even though he doesn’t really know why you’re laughing, but he likes that you’re happy and that’s enough to have him join you. You sink into him slowly, the plush of his thighs much more inviting than your couch. He’s like one of those really big teddy bears, all soft and squishy when he’s not flexing.

And with a newly freed space opened on the couch, you can turn your attention back towards Tsukishima to convince him to take the vacant spot.

But he’s being difficult.

“Kei.”

He’s still not answering you, eyes locked onto the screen of his phone, those pretty fingers tapping an unfamiliar rhythm on the cold countertop.

You shift a little, turning so you can face the kitchen a little easier. “Kei!”

He lifts his head, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Come sit with me.” You demand once more, perhaps a little petulantly, waving one of your arms in indication of the empty space beside you and Bo.

Kuroo has moved from your side to the floor, sitting between your legs, and he’s propped them up over his shoulders so he can rest his hands on your ankles. Bo’s legs are stretched wide around the width of him, which gives you ample room to stretch out in his lap and slump against his chest. Kuroo’s trembling a little, and you can hear the faint wheeze of his laughter, the sound high pitched and a touch manic because you’ve been bugging Tsukishima to join you on the couch for five minutes straight and he’s this close to losing it.

“I don’t want to.” Said blonde declines, expression pinched in frustration with his eyes thinned nearly to slits, lips pressed tight together in a thin grimace. “I’m fine right here, pay attention to the TV.”

You scowl. “I’ll pay attention when you come over here.”

“I don’t want to.” He repeats, and Akaashi groans softly, dragging a hand down his face as if that will wipe away his exasperation.

Kuroo tips his head, muffling his laughter against the skin of your knee, butterflies stirring low in your belly at the way his breath warms where his lips nearly touch. Bokuto is chuckling too, soft little puffs of breath that skim over your ear, and he’s languid beneath you, molten as opposed to being hardwired with energy like he usually is when you get like this.

“Come sit.” You demand, and yet another circle is completed, this time Akaashi’s groan is louder, his gaze pointed and sharp and very intentionally avoided by you.

When he sees that you’re ignoring him, he gets up to take your previous spot, sitting on your right and pressed into Bokuto’s side so he can reach for you. He cups your chin gently with slender fingers, turning you around to face him and forcing you to meet his intensely unamused expression. His hand is cold, unyielding when you try to twist out of his grip.

You swallow, and his eyes dip to track the bob of your throat, his grip on your face tightening a little. Fingertips press into your cheeks, small divots he uses for leverage to pull you closer.

“Leave Kei alone, love.” He murmurs, releasing his hold on your face and letting his hand fall to cup your jaw instead, his thumb sweeping wide arcs across your cheek. “You shouldn’t try to make him come if he doesn’t want to.”

Kuroo snickers, which chains into Bo trying to stifle a laugh against your shoulder as well, the two of them struggling to keep from amping the other up and setting off an inevitable bout of hyena cackling. Your lips twitch, but you manage to contain your smile so Akaashi doesn’t glare at you like he is at them.

“I miss him.” You say it softly, a secret that draws his focus back to you, your voice little more than a quiet rasp so that Kei can’t overhear. Akaashi melts, practically coos at the softness you’ve revealed . As much as he enjoys your snark, he likes your vulnerability more, when you’re honest rather than stubborn with him.

He tips close to press the bridge of his nose against your cheek, pleased when you lean into him. “You could tell him that.” He drops his voice to a whisper as well, playing along. “Instead of trying to make him angry, you know annoying him isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Tsukishima is frowning now that he can’t hear your voices, leaning across the counter with his scowl morphing into more of a worried frown, phone flat on the countertop and forgotten.

“I would rather die than admit I miss him to his face.” You tell him seriously, and that’s the last straw for Bokuto or Kuroo controlling their laughter.

Akaashi bumps your forehead with his, a gentle chiding that makes you whine, but he’s unrepentant.

“Try asking him nicely, I’m sure that would get you much farther than ordering him to sit here.” His fingertips glide down the arch of your throat, a pleased noise sealed tightly behind his lips when you tilt your head to give him better access.

The air sizzles, pops with simmering tension that you’re, unfortunately, a little too far in the back of your head to really notice.

“Feels nice.” You murmur, voice thick and slurred, unfamiliar on your tongue.

“Does it?” He breathes, fingers twitching as they trace invisible lines over your collar bones, drifting lower as you crane your head back as if to invite him in for more.

Something about it feels more intimate than you anticipated, like he’s branding you with his touch, possessive in how he curls closer to you as though trying to climb into Bokuto’s lap as well. The thought makes you giggle, cutting through some of the tension and allowing Akaashi to relax into you, resting his forehead against your shoulder to stifle a heavy exhale.

“Ohhh, is someone a little up in the clouds right now?” Kuroo tips his head back with a grin, something playful on his face that softens when you reach out to swipe his bangs out of his eyes. Your fingers linger against his cheek, and his eyes dip to half-closed, a sort of smolder that brims with unidentifiable heat.

“Just a little.” You admit, a shiver crawling up your spine when Bo’s hands dip beneath the hem of your shorts, fingertips grazing bare skin. You feel raw, wildly sensitive as a pleasant buzz builds at the base of your neck. You shudder, full-bodied in his lap, and his hands press down as if to hold you in place, pulling you back into him with a noise that you feel in his chest more than hear.

Before you can ask if you’ve hurt him, Tsukishima has finally gotten sick enough of not being part of your conversation that he’s decided to join you. Not at your side, like you wanted, but seated at the other end of the couch, as far from you as possible. You pull away from Akaashi’s gentle touch to scowl in his direction.

“Kei!”

He mirrors your scowl, though there’s a light dust of pink across his cheeks. “What? I came over here, what more do you want?”

“I want you to come closer. ”

"No.” A steadfast refusal, and he’s already turning back towards the TV, completely prepared to ignore you.

You groan, kicking your limbs out as best you can with Kuroo’s hands on your legs and Bo’s arms tucked beneath yours. “Kei! ”

Akaashi sighs, a hand on your thigh to reign you in, a subtle reminder that you reluctantly adhere to.

You decide that it might be better to play nice, for now. You back off, repositioning yourself in Bo’s lap so you’re looking towards the TV, squirming a little when his hands squeeze your hips tight. You giggle, and then he rocks you back into him again, a breathless puff of air spilling against your ear that you think might be a laugh.

“Bokuto.” Akaashi’s voice is sharp enough that you nearly jump, and Bo definitely does. He startles beneath you, hips twitching, and you gasp when, for a moment, he grinds you down hard on his lap, muffling a noise against your neck that sounds almost pained.

But he settles after that, apparently properly scolded. He hugs you to him, face buried in the crook of your neck, warm and solid and you’re almost sure you could fall asleep just like this. Kuroo is trying not to laugh, you can feel the tremble of his shoulders beneath your legs, and your hand instinctively goes back to the top of his head, fingers ruffling his already messy hair and making him swat at you half-heartedly.

It’s harder to focus on the show now. You hear the voices, the screech of metal on metal, and the blur of colors whips by leaving you dazed, staring blankly at the moving screen even though none of the information is sticking. Completely glossed over, you turn your attention inwards to the sensations around you instead, your favorite part after the incredibly deep sleep the high provides.

Kuroo’s hair is silken, soft, you bury both hands in it and begin massaging his scalp. He makes a startled noise that begins as a yelp but ends in a pleasured sigh, melting beneath your hands.

Bo removes his right arm from your waist and lifts it, coaxing Akaashi into coming closer with two pairs of puppy eyes tossed in for added effect. After a brief moment of hesitation, some unsaid emotion shining in his eyes, Akaashi dips close and leans into Bo’s chest, and by proxy rests his head against your shoulder.

His hand moves to rest on your thigh overtop Bokuto’s, their fingers lacing together in a gesture that makes you smile, feeling warm and buzzy all over.

Your patience is rewarded when Kei begins to move closer as well, shifting subtly at first, half an inch at a time, then scooting the rest of the way until he’s pressed into Bo’s side. Wordlessly, his left arm lifts, and then Kei joins you and Akaashi resting against the spiker’s chest.

One of his hands finds yours, clammy, his fingers tight as they squeeze down on the spaces between yours. You rub your cheek against the top of his head, feeling the soft silk of his hair and humming contentedly even as he makes a low grunt of protest and tries to duck away from you. You follow, leaning far off to the left to chase him as he moves, and Bo has to hastily snap his arm back around your waist to stop you from falling over completely.

When you let out a breathy, high-pitched giggle, grabbing for Kei to try and pull him back in, Akaashi reaches out to drag you upright by the shoulder.

“Behave.” He reminds you, watching as your head tilts, lolling lazily to one side, your eyes a touch glassy and dazed.

The buzz is louder now, droning on like you’ve stuffed the inside of your skull with cotton, and you feel it like a tangible weight settling over your body, static on the top layer of your skin. You begin to hum, softly to yourself, and Bo presses his cheek against yours with a small, affectionate murmur, once again tickling you with the light scruff of his stubble, pleased when it draws more laughter from you.

Your fingers end up combing through Kuroo’s hair again, buried to the scalp and scratching until he’s leaning back into your touch with a groan that rumbles deep in his chest. His hands squeeze your calves tighter, head tilted back so he can look up at you with heavy eyes. His smile widens a tic when he sees the clearly drowsy expression you wear, like you’re not even paying attention to anything else but him.

“Whatcha doin, pretty?” He drawls, low and slow and content.

“Jus’ playin’.” You murmur, just as soft. “Your hair feels nice.”

“Yeah?” He lets his eyes fall shut briefly, indulgence oozing from every pore. “Glad you think so.”

It’s nice being like this, and you wish you could take a picture of him right now. Relaxed, lines of tension normally creasing his face are gone, a light smile that you’re not sure he realizes is there. You think if he were a cat, he’d be purring up a storm with the way he rolls his head against your hands to encourage you towards a specific spot.

“Are you comfy?” You ask, voice a little breathy as Bo turns his face in towards your neck, his lips warm as they ghost over your racing pulse. It makes you squirm, writhing in his lap until his hands clamp down on your waist, squeezing once in what feels almost like a warning.

“Sure am.” Kuroo’s eyes glint with mirth, deception like a honeyed glaze that you don’t have to try all that hard to see through.

You frown, poking the back of his head with a low whine. “The floor isn’t comfy, Tetsurou, don’t lie.”

He softens, chuckles, patting your thigh affirmingly and catching your hand to bring it to his lips. “Your lap is plenty comfy enough for me, don’t worry.”

Ignoring him, you turn towards Tsukishima, who has been trying to act like he’s paying attention to the show and not listening to you talk. “Kei?” You call softly, leaning forward in Bo’s lap so you can try to catch his eye.

He looks at you warily, shoulders hunched up towards his ears as if that will offer him some defense from whatever you’re about to say. “What?”

“Would you pass me that throw pillow, please?”

He blinks at you, owlishly, head cocked to one side with something vaguely like confusion . “What?” He repeats, baffled.

You gesture towards Kuroo. “I wanna give him somethin’ to sit on, the floor hurts. Please?”

Bo hums against your skin, a soft puff of laughter that skims across your shoulder. “You’re not usually this nice to Tsukki, what’s got you bein’ all sweet?”

His hands move further down, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts. You squirm when he pushes them lower around your thighs, pushing against him and trying to blink away the thick haze blanketing you in cement. Slow, muddled, feeling as if you’re moving through water as you bat at his hands weakly.

Kuroo lets out a soft croon as he turns, kneeling between your legs with a grin. The view of your knees propped up over his shoulders suddenly looks a lot less innocent. “How sweet of you, what a thoughtful girl you are.” He teases, warm, rough hands gliding up your thighs, pushing the material of your shorts higher up to meet where Bo is pushing them down. Their fingers lace together briefly, a look shared between them before Kuroo’s eyes are back on you.

You gasp, jumping a little at the ticklish sensation of their fingertips ghosting over your skin, sending racing shivers and goosebumps all along your arms. Something hot pulses beneath you, then Bo groans softly in your ear and rocks his hips, jostling you slightly. Before you can question him, even Kei is coming closer, brow pinched but with a look of yearning in his eyes that’s completely foreign on his familiar face.

“Guys?” Your voice is breathy, confused, and you try to blink away the fog only to realize it’s not your vision that’s muddled. Your body feels heavy, sluggish, and some distant part of you is strangely fearful of how intense this particular high feels.

Akaashi sighs, soft and chastising, cupping your cheek and coaxing you to face him once more. “I tried to warn you.” He murmurs, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip and testing it’s give before leaning in to kiss you.

It feels natural, at first. Akaashi is one of your best friends, and you’re a rather affectionate person even platonically, so it doesn’t strike you as odd. He kisses you with an ease that belies the desperate way he clings to you, his other hand lifting to cup your jaw and pull you in just a little closer, a moan muffled against your lips when he licks into your mouth and covers your tongue with the taste of salted popcorn.

Then you feel the heat of Kuroo’s breath on your legs, working his way up from your knees to the hem of your shorts where he and Bo still have them bunched up between their hands. His eyes burn when he looks up at you, taking in the way you try to pull away from Akaashi’s kiss, your face panicked but not quite fearful, still lagging a little far behind even as he maps out the plush of your thighs with his mouth, teeth nipping and dragging until it feels as though you’re going to bruise everywhere he touches.

“Hold on, wait…” You whine when Akaashi pulls you back in, mouth slotted over yours and swallowing your protests. Bokuto is rocking up against you, you realize, the hard press of his clothed cock rutting into your ass, grinding into you and muffling his voice against your shoulder.

“Easy, Kou!” Kuroo laughs, pulling back so he can get a better look at you, the slackened weight of your body, limbs twitching but unable to find the strength to really move. Three edibles was definitely too much for you, but there’s no way to take it back, no way to dampen the effects. You’re stuck on a rollercoaster ride that’s way more intense than you bargained for, and there’s no exit in sight.

You take advantage of the vacated space between your legs to snap them shut, knees pressed tightly together while you twist your face out of Akaashi’s gentle grip.

“Don’t be like that.” Kuroo breathes, leaning up over your lap to try getting in your face, a grin unfurling across his lips when you jerk your head to the side to avoid his stare, to avoid Akaashi’s attempts at coaxing you back to him. Both desperate and eager, thinly veiled anticipation swelling behind a flimsy barrier of self-restraint.

But Kei is there to meet you, a hand at your jaw, he ignores your shaky whine of protest and pulls you in with unabashed want in his eyes, flushed high on his cheeks with color when his lips slant over yours. It’s a hungrier kiss than you’d have thought him capable of, hard and hot with greedy, wandering hands. He grips the back of your neck tight to keep you from ripping away, a shaky breath that warms your lips as he tilts his head, the sound muffled when he takes your mouth again. You feel lost in him, swept up in it even as a quiet part of you remains acutely aware of the eyes on you, refusing to allow you to fully submerge yourself in incoherence.

Bo is at your neck, kissing, sucking, teeth scraping over sensitive skin while he rolls his hips into you, hands that are searing hot pulling you back on every upstroke so he can grind himself against you at his leisure. Everyone, everywhere, all of it at once stifling, the rough fingertips that drag over your bare skin, lips like velvet that drop kisses onto every bare inch of you within reach, the flicker of something silken that leaves a trail of wetness as it draws a path along the clothed apex of your thighs, as much as it can reach with the way you squeeze them so tightly together.

It’s too much. You feel like you’re burning all over, filled with puffy cotton and bees that buzz around inside your ribs and your skull. It’s hard to think, hard to move, like motion blur that’s happening in real life.

You open your mouth to protest, or complain, anything that might voice your displeasure but then Tsukki is kissing you harder, slipping his tongue into your mouth and chasing the lingering taste of Akaashi’s popcorn. His teeth click against yours in his eagerness, desperate in how he tries to get as close as he can. It’s like the facade from before has completely dissolved, leaving something behind that you’re not sure you recognize.

You’ve never seen desire like this on his face before.

Rough hands pry your thighs apart, a cheshire grin curling between them as Kuroo settles in the space there once more, eyes half-lidded and glassy with lust staining his cheeks pink. “Just wanna play with you a little, baby.” He breathes, mouthing hot kisses into your inner thighs, sucking bruises deep into the skin until you’re squirming.

“Stop it, Kur–!” You try to protest, but your words are muffled around the tongue that fills your mouth, the fingers digging into your cheeks to hold you in place. Then Bo is hoisting you up a little, letting Kuroo slip your panties and shorts down your shaking legs. You try to kick out, to fight it, but your movements are slow and he catches you by the ankle easily, giving you a cheeky grin before hooking it over his shoulder and pressing a kiss there.

He works his way up your leg that way, with kisses and sharp hisses of his teeth digging into your skin, his tongue laving over each bite as if that will soothe the pain. Bokuto settles you back against his chest, a large hand dipping down to cup your sex possessively, fingers curling to gently pull you apart and spread you a little wider for Kuroo’s greedy eyes. You try to buck away, but his other arm keeps you locked securely in his lap, sturdy and unmoving.

You feel a new sense of vulnerability that you’ve never felt with them before. Scared and scraped raw like an exposed nerve, shaking as Bo circles your clit with thick fingers. You aren’t very wet, but that doesn’t seem to deter him. Akaashi has just been watching, heavy-lidded with one arm draped across the back of the couch, leaning in close so he can see Tsukishima ravage your mouth, so he can watch Kuroo smother your legs with kisses and hickeys, rapt attention unwavering as Bokuto tries to coax arousal from the hot clench of your cunt.

You’re mortified when he succeeds, the sounds of his fingers gliding between your folds growing slick, louder, your hips twitching against your will.

“Don’t fight it, sweet thing. Don’t worry, we’ll make you feel good, alright? Our girl is gonna have a real nice night.” Kuroo dips down to press one more kiss to the sensitive inside of your thigh, meant to soothe, to placate you, but you just won’t stay still.

Despite the heavy, sluggish quality to your body, you don’t stop moving. Your hips buck, twist, you try to pull away from the iron arms encircling you from all sides, the lips that ruthlessly claim your mouth again and again every time you manage to get a sliver of space between you.

“Stay still! ” Bokuto groans, voice too thick for his throat, cracking as you continue to rub against his cock in your attempts to get away. He’s whining softly, rutting his hips into you, panting as he kisses along the back of your neck and your shoulders while rolling your clit between slick fingers.

“Be patient, Bokuto.” Akaashi murmurs, tipping forward to leave his share of kisses along your neck, significantly more gentle than the bruises that Kuroo covers you with. “She’s high, you know she’s more sensitive like this.”

Tsukishima mutters something into your mouth that sounds vaguely insulting, undeterred when you try again to break away with a loud cry. Once more he pulls you back in, once more he molds the plush of your lips to the shape of his own, and he sucks gently on your tongue in time with the swipe of Bo’s fingers over your clit. It hurts a little with how hard he kisses you, your mouth feeling raw and sensitive to the touch but every time you try to twist away, he only holds you tighter, kisses you harder.

It’s too much.

Your chest is heaving now, lashes fluttering as the thick blanket of your high threatens to overwhelm you completely, fracturing any coherent train of thought you try to cling to. Whenever you break the surface, someone is there to push you back under, to keep you contained in the fuzzy headspace that makes you physically pliant, even if your mouth still runs with protests whenever Kei lets you take a breath.

“It’s been two hours, we’re sure it’s fully set in?” Kuroo asks, finally using his mouth for something other than marking you up. He rests his cheek on your knee, watching with slightly swollen lips curled into a smile as you begin lifting your hips to press against Bokuto’s hand, your brow a little furrowed as Tsukki tries to gentle his kiss, wanting you to reciprocate, needing to feel you kiss him back.

“She was giggling during the music intermission.” Akaashi points out, slow and soft just below your ear, teeth scraping over the shell of it and making you keen.

It’s a good enough assurance that they don’t bother to question it further.

Bo chuckles softly, nuzzling the nape of your neck in a gesture that would almost be tender if not for the cruel way he teases your cunt with his fingers, gathering your slick and rubbing circles into your clit with it. “See, baby? It’ll be okay, we’re gonna make you feel good and you won’t even have to remember any of this.” He croons, like that should be comforting to you.

But there's part of you, the small, fragile part of you that’s just coherent enough to understand what he’s saying, that’s just purely terrified.

You whine into Tsukki’s mouth, trembling as you try to force your body to cooperate, to fight back, to move . Pliant, soft, you’re molten in their hands no matter how you try to make yourself get away. Your hips buck, warmth building steadily between your thighs that you wish you could ignore. They work you over gently, insistently. Akaashi runs a hand through Kuroo’s hair, guiding him with a firm grip to move him closer until he’s mere inches from your drooling cunt. He makes a strangled noise that you feel against your slick skin, eyes hazy and half-lidded as he watches you begin to crumble.

It feels good, so much better than even if you were sober, everything feels more intense and it’s like Bo knows exactly how to touch you.

Like he’s done this before.

Something cold settles in your gut, hard like a chipped diamond. You whimper again, bringing your hands up slowly to press against Kei’s shoulders, though your effort is abysmally weak.

Finally, he pulls away. Flushed, panting, glasses a little skewed with his honey eyes heavy-lidded and his pupils blown wide. He moves to cover one of your hands with his own, squeezing gently and bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm.

It almost feels sweet, but then he’s kissing you again, swallowing your flimsy protest with a needy sound that strikes you hot like a match.

Then you’re being pulled back, a cool and soft hand guiding you by your jaw close enough for Akaashi to kiss you as well. It’s a little messy, the way two mouths like hot silk glide over yours, but something in it stirs heat in your belly, the gentle way Tsukki murmurs in your mouths and rubs your cheek with his thumb. It feels more intimate than it should, romantic in a strange way, even as you mewl and whimper and buck your hips, lost to it all.

Kuroo groans, low in the back of his throat before he’s straightening up and drawing close enough that you try to break away, but Akaashi holds you firm, not letting you shy away from them, and he murmurs something that sounds like it might be meant as a reassurance, but the words are slick and sticky like syrup, filling your mouth with sugar but doing nothing to ease you beyond that. A hand cups the nape of Tsukishima’s neck, and then Kuroo drags him in for a kiss of his own, giving you just a little more space to breathe before it’s filled with Akaashi’s tongue.

“Stop.” You whimper, muffled by silken lips, your thighs tensing as you try to move your legs, to kick against Kuroo’s grip in an attempt to gain some kind of leverage to push against, but he just keeps your leg locked tight against his shoulder while Bokuto holds the other one hooked over his knee, forcing you to spread wider until your hips start to burn.

“But you’re so close, baby.” Bo coos, teasing and almost enamored when he asks– “Don’t you wanna cum? For me?”

At his words, it seems like everything else comes to a halt, hands frozen in place and lips stilling against yours. Kuroo and Tsukishima separate, with the former leaning back far enough that he can watch, mesmerized, as Bokuto swirls glistening fingers over your clit, sloppy circles that only falter when your bucking hips throw off his rhythm. Akaashi helps to hold you down, keeping you from ruining your own orgasm despite how you practically wail in protest.

“Close?” Kuroo breathes, eyes bright and wild with something frenzied. “Gonna cum for us, pretty? Want us to watch you cum?” He leans in, inches from your dripping, messy pussy, you can feel the warmth of his breath as he moans softly at the sight before one hand comes down hard on your thigh, a sharp slap that rips a cry from deep in your throat.

Akaashi lets out a ragged sound and presses closer, panting softly as he reaches out to lay the flat of his palm across your throat. He applies no pressure, just curls his fingers loosely around your neck to feel the thrumming of your pulse and the noises you try to choke back, the vibrations he can feel but cannot hear. “Bokuto.” He rasps, hips twitching, and one of Kuroo’s hands slides up his thigh to palm the hard outline of his cock. It’s blissful, he nearly moans aloud at the relief. “Harder, a little harder.” It’s a soft command, and even unclear as to who he’s speaking to, both of them hurry to obey.

Kuroo strokes him slowly through his slacks, though his eyes remain locked on your face, watching as your features begin to screw up in a weak attempt at staving off the pleasure foisted upon you. Futile, as Bo presses down just a little harder as Akaashi demanded, tight and measured circles that make you feel like you’re about to simultaneously melt and combust all at once.

You nearly sob when the pressure between your thighs increases, building rapidly and crawling up from the base of your spine. “Please. ” You beg, voice scratchy and strained, eyes rolling back when it begins to ripple through you, the first flickering touch of your orgasm.

“Oh, baby, don’t start begging yet.” Kuroo coos, sickly sweet. “We’ve barely started.”

You’re horribly aware of their eyes on you when you cum, wishing you could drown it out, wishing you could pretend that it’s just you and some faceless figure bringing you to the brink in your inebriated state, but that’s not the case at all, they would never let you forget who is making you feel good.

Kei is unmistakable, the tight way he squeezes your hand, the burning brand of his focus with you being the sole recipient of his attention. He’s coaxing you along, tipping your chin up to keep you from ducking your head to hide your face, forcing you to bare yourself to them as tears well up along your lashes, glittering.

Akaashi is praising you. His face buried in your neck, the soft whisper of his moans an echo of his worship. “So beautiful.” He breathes, lips tracing the heady thrum of your pulse. “Look at you, you’re so good for us, so sweet. Do you like it? Does it feel good?”

His voice drops, then, a low rasp. “ Tell me, tell me it feels good, love, tell me how Bokuto makes you feel.”

You can barely croak out a whimper, shuddering as Bo drags your orgasm out. It’s longer than you’ve ever made yourself cum before on your own, nearly overwhelming to the point of overstimulation even though it hasn’t even ended yet. Weaker, small tremors that flutter through your abdomen, muscles clenching and contracting around nothing, but still enough to leave you breathless and boneless.

Kuroo shoves Bo’s hand out of the way, impatience rearing its head as he buries his face between your thighs. The slick glide of his tongue is a shock, drawing a sharp, shocked cry from your lips. He shuffles closer on his knees, hooking both your legs up high over his shoulders now while he loses himself in the sticky mess of your cunt, a moan muffled that sends vibrations all the way up your spine.

You try to scramble away, the shock of oversensitivity bordering on sharp and painful, but Kuroo doesn’t let you move too much. Bokuto spreads your sex apart with his fingers, splitting you apart for the heat of Kuroo’s tongue to glide along the full length of your slit. You buck upwards on reflex, a moan catching in your throat when he meets you halfway, pressing you back down before you can try to squirm away from the greedy pull of his mouth.

“Too much!” You choke, blinking back the sting of tears in your eyes, vision blurring sharply. His mouth is too hot, the pressure too much when he sucks on your clit. It’s surprisingly gentle, all things considered, but you’re three edibles deep and it’s still just too much.

“You can take it, come on baby.” Bokuto encourages you with a warm kiss just below your ear, breaths heavy and thick as you rock back onto his cock, a steady circling of your hips that you’re not even aware of.

Kuroo cradles you like you’re precious, hands gentle but unyielding while they grind your hips against his mouth, still firm with the way they hold you tight, lifting you to ride the flat of his tongue until your knees are shaking atop his shoulders.

“She’s close already.” Kei breathes, then swallows a sharp noise when you squeeze his hand mindlessly, your eyes snapping to catch his gaze at the sound of his voice.

Helpless, he leans in, his breath hitching when you tip your chin up to meet him in the middle. Your hips jerk once, a thick haze spilling over you like hot honey, and then you melt, molten beneath them as Kuroo brings you to the brink. It’s slower, this time, but it feels hotter, brighter, your body coiled up ready to snap with warm hands pressing all over you, bringing you back down when you arch off of Bo’s lap with a cry.

Kei holds you to him, gasping into your mouth like he’s the one cumming instead of you. He cradles the back of your head lovingly, gentle in a way he’s never been with you before this. Part of you feels a stab of bitterness at the thought, but then he deepens the kiss and you can’t focus on anything else. When you press into it, he moans into you like you’ve just given him his first sip of water in the height of a draught. Even as you’re coming down from your second high, he’s only getting more amped up, harder and harder he kisses you, desperate, hips rocking against nothing in a fruitless pursuit of pleasure.

Gentle fingers circle your clit, then, and your knees reflexively attempt to clamp shut. Kei nearly whines when you pry your lips apart, and the neediness of his voice would have given you pause if not for the firm insistence of the hand between your legs.

“Akaashi!” You whine, jerking away when he strokes along the slick glide of your sex. It’s too raw, too sensitive, his touch burns but he leans towards you with a soft murmur and presses a kiss to your jaw.

“Don’t worry, love.” He hums, tilting his body further inwards to face you, kissing you again to distract you when he slowly pushes a single finger inside of you. It’s easy, the way you seem to suck him in, and his moan is breathy when you tighten up around him. “Still feels good, right?”

It doesn’t, but he pulls his wrist back slowly, and this time when he presses in it’s with two fingers, crooking gently once he’s all the way inside.

Slow, methodical, his fingertips ghost over the spot that makes you squirm and his lips quirk into half a smile. “See? You can give us more like this, right?”

No. No you cannot. You’re sure of it, even as he begins to fuck you slowly, the slick sounds making your face burn with shame even still flushed hot from your high. Already, you can feel your legs twitching, a steady, practiced build that pulls a sob deep from your chest.

“Please.” You babble, tears welling along your lash line. “Please, it’s too much, ‘Kaashi. Too much. Hurts.”

To your surprise, he actually listens to you, slowing down and pressing his forehead to yours in a gesture that should be comforting, but isn’t. “How bad?” He asks, and Bokuto reaches around to tilt your face up so he can look at you properly, twin expressions of worry that feel out of place with how they’ve been treating you.

You swallow, for a minute unable to catch your breath, hiccuping around the sobs that you try desperately to stifle. Akaashi croons, slipping his fingers out of you and pulling you close with his other hand. He strokes your spine and kisses all over your face, tasting the salt of your tears on your skin before kissing you once more on the lips with a strange sense of finality.

As if responding to an unspoken order, Kuroo gets up, and then Bo is lifting you, gently, standing with you held securely in his arms. For the first time tonight you find yourself really looking at him, his flushed face and glassy gold eyes that are dark with blown out pupils. He smiles at you, bringing you closer while leaning his head down to kiss you languidly on the mouth. It’s chaste compared to how Akaashi and Tsukki had bullied you with kisses earlier, but you’re not fooled by the thin veil of sweetness. There’s still tension thick in his muscles, you can feel it in the way he strains to hold himself in check, some non-verbal rule keeping him from acting on whatever pent up desires he’s harboring.

They take you to your room, with Kei stopping by the kitchen to get a glass of warm water.

Bokuto lays you down on your bed gently, with Akaashi pulling up a cool sheet over you and brushing the hair from your forehead. Kuroo crawls beneath the covers beside you, pulling you in until your back hits his chest and your curled body is snugly tucked into the space he creates when he wraps himself around you.

For a moment, you think it’s over. You think that maybe they’re actually backing off, and maybe you can go to sleep and forget any of this ever happened.

Then Kei crawls onto the bed with you, pushes the sheet up your body until it’s bunched over your stomach, and then parts your thighs slowly to settle between them. He’s broad, forcing your hips to stretch wide just to accommodate him, but the pain of it lessens when he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and uses it as leverage to pull you closer.

The first gentle lap of his tongue is almost too light for you to feel, lost in the muddled haze that’s trying to pull you to sleep. But he does it again, and again, soft little licks against your sore clit, fingers pressed into the plush of your thighs to keep them open. You try to squirm away, but Kuroo shushes you, one hand sliding from your hip up along your ribs, gathering the material of your shirt and pushing it up.

“At least let her drink the water you brought for her.” Akaashi sighs, apparently the only remaining voice of reason, and reaches down to lift your head up, tipping the cold glass against your kiss-bruised lips.

You whimper softly in protest, but even the room temperature liquid feels like ice against your parched throat, soothing the discomfort that felt like sand spilling into your lungs. You drain the whole glass, and then Bokuto is leaning in over Akaashi, pressed against his back to take the cup from him.

“Do you want more?” He asks, achingly sweet, and were it not for Kei’s head buried between your thighs and Kuroo’s hands cupping your breasts, it would almost feel domestic the way they’re taking care of you.

“I want you to stop.” You breathe, your chest heaving once when a gentle pressure pulls at your clit. Unthinking, you look down to catch Kei’s gaze, with his half-lidded eyes and glasses pushed atop his head to keep his bangs out of the way. He muffles a moan against you and shoves himself a little more insistently between your legs, trying to crawl as close as possible without being inside of you. For now.

“Don’t want to.” He mumbles, even knowing your statement had been directed towards Bokuto. It doesn’t really hurt, he’s lapping at you with such little force behind each glide of his tongue, it just feels hot and wet, slippery as your arousal begins to smear along his face and the insides of your thighs. He’s making a mess, but it doesn’t seem like he even cares enough to notice, small little noises that you can’t hear spilling from his lips directly into the sticky folds of your cunt.

You feel it begin to build slowly, and you nearly sob at the first tremor of pleasure that rolls through your body. Your face screws up, the muscles in your abdomen coiled taut in an attempt to stave it off, but the edibles betray you. You’re pliant, sensitive, and no matter how you try to shift or move to escape, there’s a pair of hands waiting to keep you pinned down, forcing you to simply endure .

You’re slack, languid beneath them when Akaashi moves down the bed to join Kei between your legs. They’re stretched as wide as they can go, your hips burning, the leg previously draped over Kei quickly moved to Akaashi’s shoulder instead to make room for him, with the other held in Kuroo’s grasp to open you up just a little more.

Bokuto takes the chance to kiss you, displeased that he hasn’t had the chance to do it as much as the others. It’s messier, his tongue eager as it explores your mouth, slick fingers curled beneath your chin to tip your face this way and that, changing the angle as it pleases him.

Akaashi is gentle when he presses his fingers into you again, unperturbed by the wet passing of Kei’s tongue. You squirm, whining at the brief flare of something sharp and sensitive, but Bo murmurs into your mouth to try and distract you, to placate you.

Kuroo is content to watch, grinding lazily against your ass while palming the soft swell of your breasts, the rough pads of his fingertips ghosting over your nipples to make you quiver. You’re caged in on all sides, the stimulation is almost overwhelming, and yet as close as you teeter along the edge of too much, they don’t actually cross it this time. Akaashi’s fingers grind gently into your sweet spot, and then he’s up, leaning across your torso where Kuroo meets him half-way for a kiss, but he doesn’t stop fucking into you even still.

You’re a little dazed at the sight of them, delirious from the intensity of it all, watching as Kuroo fists a hand in Akaashi’s hair and yanks on it, dragging a moan from the man with his fingers buried in your cunt. He pulls harder, swallowing each little noise Akaashi makes with an echoing moan of his own. It’s surreal, and then Bo nips at your lips with his teeth in a bid for your attention, muffling a whine by sucking the tip of your tongue into his mouth.

Bo tastes sweet, like some of the cherry flavored candy he’d stolen from you earlier, and your mind tilts on its axis at the dizzying thought that you’ve kissed 3 of your best friends in one night.

“Can taste her on you.” Akaashi murmurs into Kuroo’s mouth, voice thick and hoarse with arousal. His fingers crook sharply, driving into you a little harder, the sound loud and messy even over the ringing in your ears, the buzz and the layers of fluffy, dreamy cotton.

Bokuto groans softly and pulls away from you, a sticky, wet sound that makes you flinch when you part, and the saliva on your lips cools rapidly, strings of it connecting you still. He grins, a dopey sort of smile, before he’s leaning across you towards Kuroo. “Let me taste it.” He pleads softly, eagerly, as polite as you’ve ever heard him. Akaashi moves first, with a smile, guiding Bo in by the jaw to join their kiss.

You wonder if you’re dreaming at this point, if you passed out somewhere along the way and this is just a strange figment of your imagination that the edible has conjured. You watch, enraptured by the sight of them kissing above you, pulling each other in by fistfuls of hair and muffling the soft moans that threaten to spill free.

Kei suckles gently on your clit, the first sharp stimulation he’s given you, and your back arches high off the bed, though it’s quickly pushed down by a random pair of hands. You can’t even tell who’s touching you anymore, it’s all blurring together. Unbidden, you reach down to tangle your fingers into his hair, blonde silk wrapped around your hand tight enough that when you tug, he gasps. His hips grind hard into the bed when you pull on it, swallowing back another moan when you keep pulling until you have his attention. He gives it to you, eyes glassy but ultimately entirely focused on your face.

“Tsukki…” You whine, rolling your hips and keening when he holds the flat of his tongue steady for you to grind against. “Gentle…”

You can feel the way he grins, the shaky breath he lets out at your acquiescence. As if, in some twisted way, he takes this as permission granted.

“Okay.” He agrees, barely audible. “Gentle.”

Though you hadn’t thought they were paying attention, Akaashi slows down as well, massaging the gummy spot inside of you instead of fucking into it. His fingers are so long and lithe, cool before but now warmed and slick from being buried inside the needy squeeze of your cunt.

Impossibly, they manage to wring one more orgasm from your tired, buzzing body. The three of them separate when Kei murmurs aloud that you’re getting close, with Bokuto returning to your side and Akaashi retaking his spot between your legs. Kuroo snuggles into your back, cooing sweetly in your ear and helping you grind into Kei’s mouth by pushing into your hips with his own, purring out praise while watching you ride the slick heat of his tongue.

You move along with him mindlessly, allowing Kuroo to grind into your ass so he can control the pace for you. Kei squeezes your hips with fingers that tremble, his voice pitching a little higher when Kuroo has you fucking yourself on his tongue. He presses his mouth to you with a near whine, brows knitted tight together as he begins rutting against the bed in earnest, unable to help himself when he can tell that you’re seconds from cumming in his mouth.

“Wanna cum, pretty?” Bo asks, pitching forward with his knees digging into the mattress, bowed over you and caging both you and Kuroo in with his arms. This time he gets to see up close, he gets to watch your face when you cum. As much as he loved being able to feel the full-body tremors that ripple through you while you squirmed on his lap, he missed the sight of your pretty face all twisted up in pleasure.

You don’t answer, can’t answer. Your tongue feels heavy, leaden with honey and sugar, candied. The bees are louder, buzzing bright in your arms and your head, drowning out nearly everyone else. It feels like you’re on fire, and any protests that might have lingered, any desire to stop, all of it falls away.

They can see it, the way you melt, the way you lean in to silently ask for a kiss from Bo, the way your free hand dips to catch Akaashi by the jaw, stroking the cut of it with gentle, but clumsy fingers. Kuroo grins when he feels you begin to rock back against him, torn between grinding into his cock and fucking yourself against Kei’s tongue.

“That’s it…” He breathes, calcite eyes bright in the dim lighting of your room. “Let go, baby. We’ve got you, go ahead and get nice and sweet for us.”

You pull away from Bokuto, breathless, glassy-eyed when you turn to face Kuroo, twisting in his arm just enough that you can reach him easily. It’s difficult, and a little awkward, but Kei has a bruising grip on your thighs that keeps you from turning onto your back. Kuroo smiles at you, a little questioningly, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek and slowing the forceful push of his hips to give you a chance to speak.

“Kiss?” You murmur, your voice catching when Bo’s head dips down to litter kisses atop your breasts, lashes fluttering as another pulse of hot pleasure courses through you. You know you shouldn’t be asking for this, but you can’t think of anything beyond wanting to feel good, the mindless pursuit of all of the pleasure that they’re willing to give you. You don’t care about why it’s happening anymore, that they weren’t giving you a choice, the only thing that matters is how they’re making you feel.

He groans quietly and props himself up to lean over you. “I would love nothing more.”

Kuroo’s kiss is intense, the way he squeezes your cheek with one hand, pulling you into him with a soft, aching noise muffled against your lips. He swallows your cries when you try to babble out that you’re going to cum, tasting the lingering flavors mingling from all the other kisses you’ve shared tonight with the others and steadfastly ignoring your pitching voice. You pull harder on Kei’s hair, feeling him groan against you before one of his hands wraps around yours, coaxing you into doing it again. You do, fisted at the roots and trying to drag him closer even though there’s nowhere left for him to go.

“You’ll make him cum by doing that.” Kuroo croons, both a warning and a tease. “Careful, baby, Tsukki likes when you get rough with him, lets him know that he’s making you feel good.”

In response, Kei lets out a whine into your pussy, muffled but high and needy, desperation raw on his face as he looks up at you through sunkissed lashes. It’s so unlike him, so different from the passive looks he’d given you earlier, disinterest feigned from across the room. Akaashi twists his wrist, fingers curling inwards until your back is bowing off the mattress and Bo has to pin you back down. He grins, head cocked, blue eyes glinting as he lowers his mouth to lap at your clit, and Kei stops just long enough to share a kiss with him before they take turns mouthing at your twitching cunt.

You break, coiled taut like a rusted spring that snaps against the pressure.

Bo sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth when you cum, feeling the way you twitch and spasm in his arms, watching your legs quiver with the effort of straining to slam shut, only kept apart by the two men sprawled between them and the hand keeping one hitched up to the side. He watches with pinpricked eyes as Kuroo’s tongue glides into your mouth, opening you up so that they can hear the way you murmur and gasp with pleasure as you ride it out.

They guide you through your orgasm slowly, gentle fingers and eager tongues, with Bokuto and Kuroo alternating between kissing you and each other, and with Kei and Akaashi trading off between suckling gently at your clit while the latter continues to abuse your sweet spot with his fingers. You’re spinning, floating, cradled along the surface of the ocean as you begin to lose the sense of whose hands are on you. Faceless, formless, little more than the pressure that bleeds hot and sweet between your thighs.

It takes you a long time to come down, to come to, with saccharine lips pressing small kisses into your hair and all over your face. There are slick, steady fingers still grinding into you slowly, less for the sake of pleasure and more to offer a push and pull that you follow mindlessly with your hips, and when your eyes flutter open you find Bo waiting with a small smile. It widens when you look up at him, then dims as he lowers himself to kiss you.

“Do you need a break, love? That seemed like a bit much.” Akaashi asks in a quiet murmur, carefully pulling his fingers out of you and scooting further up the bed, straddling one of your thighs while reaching to cup your face and tip it towards him so he can see you better, hooded navy eyes almost deceptively sleepy as they take you in.

Bo catches Akaashi’s wet hand by the wrist, humming as he brings it towards his mouth, the pink of his tongue startlingly bright when it flicks out to glide along his middle finger to gather the lingering taste of your arousal. You can’t even muster the sense of self to be embarrassed, too far immersed and merely coasting along the line of consciousness, but Kuroo groans quietly at the sight and you feel him throbbing against you. Akaashi kisses you, cradling your jaw with his free hand since the other is currently occupied. You taste yourself on his lips, his tongue, though the potency has lessened with all of his shared kisses.

Kei sits up, absentmindedly wiping his mouth on his shoulder while watching you, flushed and with mussed up hair, his glasses all tangled up in it. Kuroo snickers, reaching out to gently remove the frames from atop his head and setting them safely on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

For a moment, they do let you breathe. Bokuto leaves to get you all some water, Akaashi helps you drink it, and Kei lays between your legs with his head resting on your stomach, pressing tender kisses into your skin to soothe you, mindful of the way you twitch and convulse beneath his weight.

It’s comforting, in a way, and almost enough to make you forget how all of this started in the first place.

Then Bokuto is moving, kissing you once on the lips before withdrawing from your side to stand at the foot of your bed. Your eyes flutter open when Kei lets out a strangled, high-pitched noise, and you look up to see Bo dragging him back by the hips until he’s propped up on his elbows and knees, scowling but painfully hard, a dark stain spreading out from his crotch from where he’d been rubbing against your sheets while eating you out. All the friction has bunched up the material of his sweats, and the head of his cock pokes out from the waistband with a thick drop of prespend beading at the tip. He looks at you, sees you staring, and chokes on a noise caught between embarrassment and yearning.

“Come on, might as well give her a show while she’s taking a break.” Bokuto grins, a little wolfish as he grinds his hips hard into Kei’s, rutting shamelessly as greedy hands pull at his waist to yank him back on every forward thrust. Kei's jaw is gritted, flushed to the temples as he tries to avoid spilling too early when Bo tugs his cock free, though he can’t help fucking into the tight clench of his fist despite himself.

“Look at that, you got him all worked up, pretty.” Kuroo murmurs, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Never seen him act like such a slut, I guess he couldn’t hold back anymore.”

Akaashi kisses you once, hot and thorough as he licks the seam of your lips until you part for him. But it doesn’t last long, he pecks you once more, and then Kuroo, before he’s sliding off of the bed to help Bokuto strip Kei down, gentle hands followed by quick kisses after each article of clothing is removed.

Kei is flustered, you note distantly, some far off part of you recognizing his embarrassment. Flushed and pointedly avoiding your gaze, his eyes stubbornly locked onto your sheets, the muscles in his arms tensing as he holds himself up. You’re enamored with this new side of him, the greed and the surprising shyness both.

Acting on impulse, you scoot further down to join them at the foot of the bed, slipping beneath where Kei is bent over with your legs spread around his parted knees, his hands fisted in the sheets above your shoulders. Bo, leaning over his back, grins down at you and blows you a kiss that seems nearly comical despite the situation.

Then again, you’ve completely lost touch with how the situation is supposed to feel to begin with, perhaps it’s not comical at all. You loop your arms around Kei’s neck, shivering when Bokuto dips down to kiss your fingers sweetly.

Akaashi takes your spot at the head of the bed, curled against your pillows and leaning into Kuroo’s arms, the two sharing slow, lazy kisses while watching the three of you through foggy eyes.

Weight presses down on you when Kei’s arms buckle, a sharp moan spilling across your clavicle when Bo begins working him open with slick, thick fingers. His hips rock slowly against nothing, back curved into a pretty arch with a heavy hand pressed into his lower back. He kisses you, messily, a smear of lips and tongue leaving a path of heat from your mouth down between your breasts.

Then he’s cupping the sides of your head, caging you in with his arms as he leans in to kiss you properly. He uses you to muffle the way he cries out at the first press of Bokuto’s cock, burning hot even through the condom wrapped around him. You’re a little dizzy, shocked at this version of Kei, wanton in a way you’ve never seen. His lips are shiny and a little swollen from the force of his kisses, face flushed as though he’d sprinted a marathon, a light sheen of your arousal covering his cheeks down to his jaw. Between your bodies, his cock twitches when he realizes you’re just staring at him, and the little noise that he lets out when he breaks away from you is addictive. High and sweet, so unlike your Kei that you feel enamored with it, wanting him to make that sound again.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He breathes, pants against your lips, brow furrowed in an expression tinged with shame and excitement as he tries to avert his eyes.

“But you’re so pretty, Kei.” You murmur, voice cracked and whispery, the first words you’ve managed to choke out in what feels like hours. It’s sweet praise, and you find yourself tangling your fingers into his hair to pull on it the way you now know he likes, a twist and a tug until his head snaps back and his whole body shudders above you. His eyes blow wide, and Bo is the only one who gets to watch the way his pupils bloom and contract wildly.

“F-fuck!” He gasps, hips canting back to meet Bokuto’s thrusts, his cock throbbing weakly as it bobs in the air just above your stomach. Pearly fluid beads at the tip, dribbling down the thick shaft with every dry thrust of his hips into nothing, swaying every time Bo’s hips slap against his ass. You can’t look away, even when he tries to cover your eyes with a shaky hand, it’s easily knocked to the side by Kuroo, who has shuffled forward to kneel beside the two of you. He and Bo share a look, mischief lurking in twin pools of honey, before his attention is on you.

He presses a kiss to Kei’s shoulder, though his eyes are on you when he asks– “How about we help him with that, baby? Wanna?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, fingers lacing with yours before bringing your hand up to meet hot, slick flesh. Kei is like a brand against your palm, twitching at your touch and dripping with the pre that’s steadily dribbled out of him ever since he first got to put his hands on you.

“Kuroo–you– fuck !” Kei groans when Kuroo tightens his grip, forcing the clench of your fingers to wrap around him snugly, so tight that he has to rely on Bo’s hard, punched out thrusts to force his cock into your fist.

“There we go.” Akaashi’s voice is closer than you expect, you hadn’t even felt the mattress shifting beneath him as he moved. “Doesn’t that feel better, Kei?”

He kneels at your side on the floor, eye-level and watching aptly as your thighs begin to twitch, with you attempting to rub them together to alleviate the ache building deep in your belly. He doesn’t miss the way you begin to rock against nothing, though the whole of your attention is on the man hovering over you, the way his face screws up tight, the sweat dripping down his neck.

You pull him down by his hair so you can follow a droplet of sweat with your tongue as it rolls down the column of his throat, squeezing his cock a little tighter and rubbing your thumb against the drooling slit as you taste the salt of his skin, tracing its path back up the arch of his throat to his jaw. He gasps, his hips stuttering, and then Bokuto lets out a breathy laugh and starts fucking him harder.

“What’s got you all tight like that, Tsukki?” He teases, setting a bruising pace that doesn’t seem to affect him nearly as much as it should. He’s flushed, sweaty, but his eyes are bright and he shows no signs of fatigue, no signs of slowing down. Still, he claws at Kei’s waist with mounting desperation, moaning freely and loudly as he pulls even harder on his hips, dragging him back onto his cock a little rougher each time.

You’ve always thought Bokuto was attractive, but you’ve never seen him quite like this. Primal, in a sense, lost to his passions and swept up in them without a thought to repercussions or the aftermath. He uses Kei almost like a toy, a bruising grip on his hips, thoughtlessly shoving the blonde’s legs further apart with his knees to finetune the position however he wants. Dominant in a way that isn’t aggressive, he handles control like a well-worn tool that fits perfectly in his hand.

And he is controlling, even blissed out and near incoherent, you can tell that much. If he thinks Kei is getting too greedy, he slows down, until his gentle thrusts aren’t even enough to force Kei’s cock through your fist, waiting until his voice begins to pitch high with tangible desperation to go faster. If either of them start to get close, he stops completely, tracing the graceful arch of his spine with kisses to distract them both from the way Bo throbs, hot and thick inside of him. He controls how much pleasure Kei receives, and while there’s not a single person in your room that could be considered weak, Bokuto is physically the most capable. There’s no fighting back against him when there’s something he wants.

“K–Kou fuck, slow do–wn!!” Kei hisses, jaw clenched so tight that he looks like he’s in pain. His arms brace against the sides of your head, fisting the sheets and pulling as if that will give him any amount of leverage, but with Kuroo using your hand to stroke his cock, and with Bo drilling into his prostate, he’s overwhelmed and outnumbered.

And Kuroo is all too happy to quicken the pace as well, forcing you to stroke Kei on the same beat that Bo fucks into him, speeding up and slowing down at his whim while steadfastly ignoring the way it makes him cry.

The two of them working in sync should be setting off warning bells, nothing good ever comes from their cooperation, but all you can focus on is how pretty Kei looks when he’s like this, when his whole body is quivering from the onslaught of pleasure attacking him on all sides.

“Close!” He grits out, helpless but to continue fucking the tight squeeze of your fist, his chest heaving at the overwhelming stimulation, breath catching in his lungs and coming up ragged, torn. Part of you feels vindicated, in a way, watching the tears that bead along his lashes, the high flush that bleeds all the way down to his chest, the way it’s clearly both too much for him and not enough.

His head dips, forehead bumping against yours as his body is rocked to the rhythm of Bokuto’s thrusts. “Please. ” He whispers, as softly as possible, for only you to hear. Then he tips his chin up, lips seeking yours, and you let him kiss you to muffle any pretty noises that try to slip free.

Kei is silent when he finally cums, more of his weight pressing down on you when he can no longer support himself, thrusting weakly into your hand with Kuroo keeping the pace, forcing him to take it faster than he wants. It’s when the sensitivity hits that he starts to make noise, whining into your mouth and trying to shy away from your hand, then hissing when that only pushes him back onto Bo’s cock. There’s nowhere for him to run, forced to take everything that he’s given even when it becomes too much.

His whole body shakes with the force of it, broad and hot and pinning you down into the mattress as he ruts forward uncontrollably, aided by the force of the hard thrusts fucking him open that threaten to render him just as boneless as you, just as pliant.

His cum is liquid fire as it paints your stomach, hot and dripping down your ribs to seep into your sheets. He licks into your mouth, and you can taste yourself on him when he does, when he sucks at the very tip of your tongue before you feel the teasing bite of teeth. You whine, back arching, and he lets out a hoarse chuckle as though he isn’t bent over you, still filled thick with Bokuto, as if he isn’t on the verge of tears himself from all of the pleasure.

He throbs in your hand, softening against your palm even though he continues to rut against it, though whether or not it’s of his own initiative or Bokuto’s, you can’t really tell.

Cold fingertips brush over your stomach, catching you off guard and alerting you to the fact that Akaashi is now leaning with his elbows pressed into the mattress, closer, heavy-lidded and flushed to the chest while watching the four of you. You swallow hard at the sight of him, the predatory glint in his eyes, the way he seems to smirk beneath the shadow cast over the lower half of his face. “Miss me? You look like you’re having fun, love.” He coos, fingers dipping into the pooling cum on your belly, smearing the thick liquid around and then guiding some of it up to your lips. You part for him thoughtlessly, mindlessly obedient as he presses down on your tongue. The taste of salt and something a little bitter fills your mouth, but it’s not unpleasant, and the look on Kei’s face while he watches you swallow it almost makes you wish you could take a picture.

“Good girl.” Akaashi hums, and something in you swells at the praise. He does it again, though this time he’s kissing you before you can swallow, licking into your mouth where the cum has pooled and mixed with your saliva. It should be gross, it probably is gross, but then he’s smiling down at you and petting your hair and you’ve completely lost most of your inhibitions anyway, what’s one more?

Kei’s head falls against your shoulder, letting out a hoarse cry and fucking his hips forward to rut his cock against your palm. You realize, a tad late, that Kuroo hasn’t let up, using you to continue stroking even after Kei had finished. Previously softened and spent, he’s thickened out to fill the grip of your fist once more, throbbing like he’s already on the edge.

“Come on, Tsukki.” Kuroo croons, voice dripping with something both saccharine and mocking. “Our pretty girl gave us three of those, you can give us one more, right?”

Sparks light up in your abdomen, muscles tightening, your thighs instinctively trying to rub together even though they’re parted wide around the blonde atop of you, and Akaashi gives a small, dark grin when he sees the shock of want in your eyes. You’re blind to it, drawn in helplessly by the way Kei squirms and writhes over you, resting his forehead against your shoulder with his upper body pinning you down, the only thing keeping him up being the unrelenting grip Bokuto has on his hips.

“Fuck her, Kei.”

Bokuto and Kuroo stop in sync, causing Kei to choke out a sob of relief that he muffles against your neck. You flex your fingers sluggishly, sore from being squeezed so tightly for so long. Three pairs of eyes are locked onto Akaashi, a silent question hanging in the air while you distract yourself with trying to regain feeling in your static-laden arms. He smiles, tips his head towards you as if that would help them see what he has.

A fruitless gesture, Akaashi is better at reading your body language than anyone.

When that doesn’t clarify anything for them, Akaashi elaborates with a small, fondly exasperated sigh. “She wants Kei to fuck her.”

It clicks, and Kuroo’s answering smile is almost evil. “Oh does she?” He squeezes your hand tightly, something hard glinting in his eyes when Kei gasps out a strangled moan. “She wants him to fuck her while his cock is all raw like that? What a mean girl we have.”

The flush from Kei’s face seems to pale, though he throbs lewdly against your hand despite the panic. “I can’t, not yet, I’m still too sensitive.” He protests, but he bites his lip, chews on it while his eyes dip down to the sticky folds of your cunt, looking like there isn’t a single thing in the world he wants more than to bury himself to the hilt inside of you.

Bokuto practically purrs, a low and sensual noise as he rolls his hips, the promise of even more pleasure driving him to keep fucking into the writhing body pinned beneath him. “I think it’s a great idea.” He grins, crooked, eyes half-lidded but far from glassy. “Don’t you wanna feel good, Tsukki? Wanna feel our princess all wrapped around you?”

Before Kei can answer, Kuroo cuts in smoothly, voice like hot velvet and chocolate. “If you don’t want to be the first to fuck her, I’ll gladly take your place.”

If you were at all coherent, you might be able to feel the temperature drop, the tension spiking to dangerous levels, the way Kei’s eyes narrow to slits and Kuroo grins like a cheshire cat.

You blink up at them when Akaashi tilts your face up, owl-eyed and dazed, struggling to break through the thick fog to process what they’re talking about. You’re too far gone, though, slipping deeper into a heavy, fuzzy space, blanketed with something warm and plush that is doubly reinforced by your high.

“She’s never been in this deep before.” Kuroo muses, rubbing a thumb over your cheek and marveling at the instinctive way you turn to glance at him, your mouth parting when the digit grazes over your bottom lip. He coos, soft, and dips down to take advantage by kissing you.

Akaashi’s voice turns from silken to sour. “I tried to warn her that taking three was too much, but she never listens to me.”

Bo grins, bright and sunny, but the words that fall from his lips are anything but. “If she didn’t, we wouldn’t be able to do this though! So it’s like, making the best of a bad situation, right?”

Chuckling softly, Kuroo guides your hand to bring the slick head of Kei’s cock to the messy, dripping heat of your cunt, tapping it against your clit and groaning when it comes away with thick strings of your arousal still attached. Kei hisses between clenched teeth and claws at the bed, pulling at the sheets until they’re longer tucked neatly beneath your mattress, forced to endure as Kuroo plays with the slick drooling from your pussy and his cock.

Tap, tap, tap. Over and over, with Akaashi watching intently to see how far away Kei’s cock can get before the glistening strands of fluid snap. Toying with you, toying with Kei, though you’re too far gone to realize it, focusing instead on the myriad of expressions flashing over his face.

Annoyance is prevalent, but far overshadowed by lust, embarrassment, his eyes darting back and forth between your face and the fuckery going on between your legs. He likes looking at it, you can tell, but it gets him worked up too quickly so he can’t let himself stare for long.

The first press of the blunt head sinking into you is easy, made so by the copious amounts of arousal and spit that have long since cooled. Kei lets out a loud, relieved moan as Kuroo guides him into you, hands balled into fists with his brows drawn low, the space between his knees widening as he uses them to shove yours further apart.

It’s slow at first , but then Bokuto readjusts his grip on Kei’s hips, bends down to leave a trail of kisses along his spine, and then he snaps forward in a single thrust that ends with both of you being filled to the brim, all the way to the hilt in one fluid stroke.

Your eyes roll back, a hard shudder wracking your body as you scrabble for something to cling to with a scream catching in your throat. Akaashi meets you, clasping your hands with his and bringing them back to pin against the mattress above your head, forcing your back into a gentle arch.

“Kou!” You wail, teary eyes glaring up him before your lashes flutter when Kei begins to grind into you, circling his hips to try and fuck you as well as he can while being pinned between two bodies.

He’s no better off, broad shoulders trembling as he bows over you, trying in vain to muffle his voice by kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin of your throat, though it only makes him sound even needier, the way he mewls and whines while sucking a burgundy mark over your rapid pulse.

Bokuto laughs, breathless, and leans back on his heels so he can watch the two of you squirm. “Yeah, baby?” He asks, all sweet spun sugar and puffy clouds. “Whaddya want? More? You want more?”

You try to shake your head, the room spinning dangerously when you do, but you’re wholly ignored. Bokuto fucks into Kei faster, harder, pinning him down against you and leaving you both with little more to do than just lay there and take it.

It feels so good , though. It’s more of a grind, because Bo won’t let Kei pull back far enough to actually thrust into you, and you can feel the first flickers of a budding orgasm race up your spine even though you’d thought yourself incapable of cumming again.

Kei isn’t doing nearly as well. He’s clinging to you, moaning into the hollow of your throat while trying to roll his hips, his cock aching for more friction than either of you are giving him. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, the blush staining his skin a mottled red bordering on scarlet. When he looks at you, it’s with an expression nearly as lost as your own, glassy and distant, though he doesn’t have the comforting haze of a high to cradle him. It’s all agonizing pleasure, the hard pound of Bo’s cock digging into his prostate, the wet, clingy grip of your pussy wrapped around him, and even though he’s this sore he feels like he might die if he doesn’t cum inside of you.

You tip your head back, your lashes fluttering as you try to blink through the haze to find who you’re looking for and Kuroo is there to meet you, checking in while Akaashi coos and kisses all over Kei.

“You okay?” He asks, nosing into your jaw and kissing you there. “What do you need, baby? Water?”

You dip your chin to try and catch his mouth, and his laughter is muffled when you succeed. His fingers thread gently into the hair at the nape of your neck, using it to guide you into the kiss, the only thing keeping you steady while Bokuto indirectly jostles your body with the force of his thrusts. It feels like you’re made of air. Incorporeal, barely a concept despite the burning pleasure pulsing between your thighs, the only thing to keep you even semi-coherent. The pleasure is the only thing that’s tangible, and they show no signs of letting up any time soon.

Akaashi and Kuroo trade places, or rather, they change who they’re being sweet on. Kuroo cups Kei’s face gently, thumbs swiping over teary cheeks and kissing him soundly, though instead of letting him stifle his pretty voice like you were, Kuroo licks into his mouth to keep it open, each needy whine and gasp plainly audible even over the harsh slap of skin on skin.

Cool lips ghost along your sweaty temple, shocking and grounding you with the abrupt change in temperature, the fingers pressing your wrists into the mattress are massaging your hands gently, keeping you from slipping too far into some off-strung abyss.

When you tilt your head back in an open invitation to ask wordlessly for a kiss, Akaashi lowers himself to you easily, parting your lips with a flick of his tongue and then drinking in the soft noises you make when Kei’s cock is grinded into you. Greedy, he tightens his hold on your wrists and pins them down a little harder, even though in your current state there’s no real hope of you resisting. It’s the feeling that he’s addicted to, holding you down, knowing intrinsically that you’re completely at his mercy, he revels in it.

But when he kisses you, there’s none of that. He keeps it contained in his hands, his eyes, the heavy throb of his cock as it strains against the material of his boxers, but you can’t feel any of it. His lips on yours are silken, a caress, you’d be tempted to think it loving if you could think at all.

It’s nice, pleasant, but then Kuroo is taking advantage of your faintly arched back by shoving a pillow beneath your hips to prop you up a little more. The change in angle is staggering, and Kei swears out loud when you start to clench up around him, the head of his cock practically glued to that gummy spot on your inner walls, and each hard thrust from Bokuto makes you keen.

“There it is.” Kuroo purrs, leaning back into your space to cup Akaashi’s jaw, sharing a kiss that is much sweeter than they gave either of you.

“Holy fuck I think I’m gonna cum.” Bokuto rasps, groaning softly and pressing his forehead into Kei’s back, his pace stuttering as he tries staving off his orgasm. “So good, so good. ”

His head falls back, throat bobbing obscenely around a hard swallow, bangs falling in his face from where the gel keeping his hair spiked had begun to dissolve. He looks disheveled, flushed all the way down to his chest, but still he’s the only one who’s eyes remain crystal clear. Bo is entirely alert, even while utterly wrecking Kei, and you by proxy, he’s in complete control of himself.

Which is why he slows to a stop, not to edge himself, but to grab Kei by the hips and yank him backwards, forcing him to support his own weight with his elbows bracketing you in, then pushing forward, again and again, back and forth to force Kei into fucking the two of you instead. Every time he’s pulled back, the slick, greedy pull of your pussy tries to suck him back in, and when he’s shoved forward to the hilt inside of you, Bo unconsciously seeks him out, thrusting forward and disrupting the rhythm, and then it repeats.

Bokuto’s focus is on you while he does it, almost silently insisting that you watch as he manhandles Kei into moving how he wants, wanting to show you how easily he strings the taller figure along to his whims, making a show of how he has as little to say in this as you do. Maybe even less, though you have no way of knowing the lengths they would go to in order to please you.

Kei makes a strange, wobbly noise at the sudden increase in friction, all too quickly feeling overwhelmed and sensitive, the loud slap of his ass as it smacks into Bo’s thighs rings between your ears, hard and fast and faster faster faster–

Kei screams when he cums this time, and it feels so hot inside you that you think you’ve been branded. He fumbles at your jaw with his hands, fingers curling around your chin to try and hold you in place while he kisses you, messy and open mouthed, panting and choking back strangled sobs when Bokuto still doesn’t let up, forcing him to ride it out. You try to reach for him, feeling like you’re in a game that’s running three frames a second, slow and squirming against Akaashi’s grip.

“‘Kaashi.” You whine, blinking with glassy eyes up at him, trying to convey that you want him to let you go so you can touch Kei.

He hums thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side in a show of consideration that you’re sure is fake, false contemplation that drags it out. Kei whines at the loss, mouthing at your jaw in a bid for your attention, though it’s messy and uncoordinated.

“Say please.” Akaashi tells you, stroking his thumb over the pulse fluttering in your wrist, a wave of shivers sending gooseflesh rising along your arms. Kei’s lips move to your neck, sucking, nipping, lost as he tries fruitlessly to muffle his wanton voice against your sweat-slicked skin.

“Please.”

Akaashi releases you, and you immediately reach up towards Kei and curve your hands against the hard cut of his jaw, molding them to the shape of his face while you kiss him. He blinks at you, bleary-eyed, then whimpers into your mouth when you tighten around him.

“Too much.” He croaks, forced to keep fucking you, raw and sensitive and Bo just won’t let up.

Akaashi pulls him in for a kiss next, and when Kei moans into his mouth he echoes the sound softly, a push and pull as he’s moved around however the other wants him.

“Baby.” Bokuto calls for you quietly, voice breaking on the last syllable, and when you look up at him his face is flushed dark and his eyes are pleading. Desperate, and he can no longer stand the slow pace of Kei rocking back onto his cock, he needs more.

You lift your head, meeting him half-way for a kiss that he nearly growls into, bent over Kei’s back and pushing him down with a hand at the base of his spine. You’re pressed harder into the mattress as Kei is pinned against you fully, no longer able to support any of his weight with Bokuto fucking into him with rapidly rising fervor, the slap of his hips leaving the sensitive skin of his ass a bright, vivid red. Your lips are almost numb, aching from the plethora of harsh kisses you’ve been given, and this one is no different, his mouth burns against yours, bruising the soft swell of your lips until he has to rip himself away with a loud, high-pitched whine. His hips stutter, slowing, trying desperately to reign himself in but the sight of you and Kei so thoroughly blissed and fucked out is too much.

Despite Bo clearly being on the brink, you’re the next one to cum. It’s unexpected and quick, a shock of pleasure that has your legs clamping inwards, trying to snap shut as you arch your back and scream . For a moment, you have a stark flash of clarity, bright and hot as a horribly sharp orgasm cuts its way through you. Kei makes a harsh noise when you squeeze around him, tight and sucking him in even though he’s already as far as he can get.

It’s dragged out even longer for the both of you when Bokuto finally cums with you, hips bucking hard and deep as he pounds relentlessly into Kei, bruising handprints coloring low on his waist that are going to linger for days as a reminder. You reach for him, mindless, whimpering at the way Kei’s pelvis grinds against your clit with every hard thrust he’s forced to take. The tips of your fingers meet stubble, then they curve beneath the cut of Bo’s jaw, curling to try and coax him into coming closer. He does, falling over Kei’s back and wrapping around him, chin on his shoulder as he ducks down to kiss you. It’s hot, and you feel like three weighted blankets have been thrown overtop of you, but then his whole body goes slack and he slumps over to the side to take some of the weight with him.

Kuroo catches him before he can fall, keeping the large spiker from collapsing on top of the two of you, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead and kissing him there. He lowers him slowly, so that he’s laid out across the mattress and can catch his breath, chest heaving but with a satisfied, almost smug smile on his face when he catches your eye.

Kei is heavy, completely slack, hips still rocking gently into you even though Bo is no longer there to make him keep going. His face is buried in your neck, murmuring some sort of incoherence that you can’t make out with his voice muffled against your skin.

Akaashi takes pity on you and lifts the large middle blocker to roll him onto his back and off of you, cool hands tilting his face up and checking him over, and you’re finally left to your own devices to breathe for a moment. It’s bliss.

Everything is sore, cum dribbling out of your abused cunt, still twitching with little contractions that pulse through your core. You have to be covered in bruises, and you’d be dreading looking at your legs to find the remnants of Kuroo’s attack earlier in the living room if you could wrench yourself out of whatever hazy headspace you’ve been left in.

You breathe slowly, drifting, thick tendrils of exhaustion creeping in now that you’re no longer being moved. It’s easy, almost, to fall asleep, to give in to the edibles deep in your system that have been trying to pull you under for hours now. Briefly, for a few precious minutes, it works, but it doesn’t last for long.

Someone new settles between your sticky thighs, and you lift your head to see Kuroo grinning down at you, cheeks flushed crimson and his hair pushed back out of his face.

“Hi, sweet thing.” He coos, and you shiver when the blunt head of his cock slides against your clit, a sharp lance of pain cutting up your spine.

“Kuroo,” You whine, feeling like your mouth is too dry, too slow, the shapes of words oddly fitted on your tongue. “N’more.”

There’s more you want to say, or you think there is, but no matter how you try to force the words out, nothing comes.

He kisses you, soft, but he doesn’t stop grinding against your sore cunt, well-loved and still dripping with Kei’s cum. “You’re not gonna leave Keiji and me unsatisfied, right?” He murmurs against your lips, unable to hide a sly smile when you let out a shaky, shuddering breath. It’s not consent, he knows, but he’ll take you realizing that you don’t have a choice over more resistance. Your subspace had made you pliant, he wants to send you back there, but disturbing you from your little nap brought you to the forefront of your mind, even hazy as it is.

Akaashi kisses you next, briefly, having moved from his spot on the bed to retrieve a condom from the nightstand. After rolling it on, he situates himself behind Kuroo, pushing down until he’s chest-to-chest with you. You have to crane your head back a little to look up at him, and he smiles down at you, honey eyes already glassy when Akaashi slowly begins to open him up, deft fingers stretching him out patiently.

Part of you is relieved that you won’t be taking both of them at the same time.

Another part of you, a small sliver curated by the murky events you’ve endured throughout the night, wishes that you were.

Unfortunately for you, Akaashi is perceptive, and he catches the second of conflicted emotion that flashes across your face. He smiles, kisses Kuroo on the shoulder once, and then pulls away.

The latter is confused, almost whining at the loss before he catches himself. “Keiji?”

“Help me lift her.” Is all he says, moving around back onto the bed. Kei slides out of the way, slow and a little sluggish, but he also helps with sitting you up so Akaashi can slide beneath you on his knees. The change in position has your vision tilting, black dots swimming around even when you try to blink them away. You’re draped over Akaashi’s lap and slumped against his chest, and Kuroo is settled between your thighs, your legs wrapped tight around his waist with his hands squeezing you by the hips to keep you held up against his abdomen instead of resting on Akaashi’s thighs.

Your head lolls, tired body boneless, and you whimper when the tip of Kuroo’s cock begins to slide into you. It’s a slight stretch, your silken walls pulsing hot around him, fluttering like the wings of a frantic butterfly. He groans low in his chest and ducks down to rest his forehead against your sternum, breathing heavily and trying to keep from bullying the rest of it into you all at once.

Bokuto passes a bottle of unscented lube to Akaashi, waiting with a cheeky smile until he’s given a kiss before relinquishing his hold on it.

You’re a little slow to catch on, clutching at Kuroo’s back and digging your nails in just below his shoulder blades. He throbs within you, hips pushing forward in time with his strained exhale as he breathes against you. “Baby…” He warns, cracking.

Akaashi warms some of the lube between his hands while Kei gets a little more water in you, cupping your cheek and tipping the glass against your lips until it's empty. You feel like a doll, or a marionette with snipped strings, moved around and passed back and forth until you can barely keep track of who is doing what.

Kuroo takes another slow, heavy breath, and something in the air changes, charges, a small thrill of electricity creeping up the back of your throat with your nerves buzzing wildly.

When he pushes into you the rest of the way, it’s wet and loud, the squelch of his cock displacing the lube and cum against your walls making you cringe. He circles his hips slowly, fucking into you with little half-thrusts that make you squirm, still far too sensitive to really endure any friction.

Behind you, Bokuto is fisting Akaashi’s cock with a wild grin on his face, his arm curved solidly around the dip of his waist to keep him upright. “Gotta get you nice and ready, yeah?” He pants, gold eyes bright with something a little frantic.

Akaashi makes a low, wanting noise, his hips bucking erratically beneath you and his hands squeezing at your waist, as though wanting to bring you back against his cock even though he can’t. Tsukishima drizzles more lube onto him, cold and thick and it makes the quick glide of Bo’s hand even smoother. He speeds up to take advantage of that.

Part of you wishes you could see it. He sounds wrecked, voice breathy in a way you’ve never heard, quiet moans that only reach you because you’re so close.

Thankfully, intentionally or not, Bo is almost always in sync with you. “Look at that pretty face, ” He breathes, thick with arousal. “You look so good, ‘Kaashi. So pretty, just like our pretty girl.” A pause, heavy pants and moans plucked from Akaashi’s lips, then– “What’s wrong? My hand not enough for you?” He’s teasing, voice light and playful, Bo doesn’t have it in him to be genuinely degrading. “You wanna be inside her that bad? You’re not usually this impatient, don’t you wanna savor it? Look how Tetsu fucks her, you wanna do it like that?” It drops then, his voice, something low and carnal. “Or do you wanna fuck her harder ?”

You and Akaashi shudder at the same time, swept up in the rough cadence that lingers on your skin. You’ve never heard him talk like that before, though it seems to be working wonders on the man behind you.

Kuroo catches you in a firm kiss, stealing the brunt of your focus and fucking deeper into you to keep it. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, the heat of his cock like a firm, dull pressure that rubs against you in ways that make you whine. He smiles against your lips, pecks you a few times before lifting you up until just the tip of him is inside, though you unconsciously try to pull him back in.

“Fuckin’ greedy pussy.” He teases, but his jaw is gritted and his knuckles bleed white as he has to shove down the need to thrust back into you, to give into the needy way you try to suck him in.

This time when he begins to press forward, Akaashi is there with him, guided too eagerly by Bo’s hands. It’s slow, and he waits until Kuroo is half sheathed within you to start the stretch. The amount of lube almost feels gross, but it makes the sting bearable, and they’re both gentle with you, taking long breaks with Kuroo kissing you as a distraction and Akaashi palming your breasts, fingers gently rolling your nipples so he can feel the way your cunt flutters around him in response.

Kei kisses you next, and when he parts your lips something sweet like chocolate melts across your tongue. His fingers curl against the nape of your neck so he can tilt his head and then press his lips more firmly against yours, and he licks into you again to fill your mouth with the taste of a strawberry truffle. You lean into it eagerly, chasing the sweetness with little thought to how your body is being gently picked apart by expert hands.

The burst of sugar brightens you up, clears away some of the sleep that had been layering overtop of you and drawing you in. You cup his face and pull him a little closer, suckling gently on the tip of his tongue until all of the chocolate is gone. He groans when you do, kissing you harder for a short beat before he’s pulling away.

You try to complain, a whine creeping up your throat that is quickly cut off when Akaashi gives a short, sharp thrust into you, knocking the words from your lips and making you yelp.

Stretched to the limit, you feel overwhelmingly full with both Kuroo and Akaashi fully hilted within you. Your hips wriggle, an experiment to test how much it will hurt, and a pleasant sharpness pierces your abdomen when you try to move. Kuroo grabs at you with a strained noise, his cock throbbing when you tighten up around them both.

“Tsukki is already hard again.” Bo teases, but the playfulness of it is overshadowed by the raw desire you see on his face. He presses a hand to your abdomen, fingers stroking the sensitive skin of your belly before it drifts, reaching down between the press of yours and Kuroo’s bodies to gently circle your clit with his fingers, leaning over Akaashi’s back so he can still be close to you all. “You guys look so fucking good like this.”

Kei shoots Bokuto a sharp, frigid glare that is ignored, instinctively curling inwards on himself as if he feels the need to hide, ashamed of the way his cock bobs with every erratic twitch, angry and swollen as if he hadn’t already gotten off twice.

Listlessly, mindlessly, you reach out to wrap your trembling fingers around it, relishing in the gasp that catches in his throat. He grabs at your wrist, squeezing tight but not pulling away, knees slowly spreading apart to open himself up when you tilt your face to look at him. His face is flushed like a peach, brows drawn and his lips set in a thin line that barely hides how they tremble.

After a brief moment, his hand moves, drops to wrap around your fingers and tightening to force them into a fist so he can fuck himself into it. He trembles, overwhelmed but still needing more, and his eyes are glued to the stretch of your pussy as it struggles to accommodate the two men who are hilted inside of you as deep as they can go.

Bokuto mirrors him, taking your other hand and, after pressing a kiss to the back of it, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. They don’t make you move on your own, simply using your hands to please themselves while watching raptly as Kuroo and Akaashi take turns thrusting into you.

It’s awful, it’s messy, you feel utterly wrecked and debauched and your body sags heavy with the need to lay down and rest.

And yet, you find yourself turning towards Akaashi, pressing your nose into his cheek to catch his attention. He leans into you, humming softly while slowing the already painfully gentle roll of his hips. They’ve been going so slowly the entire time, carefully alternating their thrusts to avoid hurting you too much.

“More.” You breathe, arching your back and trying to twist your hips a little, messing up their rhythm and making Kuroo choke back a moan. “More, please, Keiji.”

His hips stutter when you say his name, fingers digging tight into your thighs and holding you in place. His cock throbs inside of you, twitches even harder when Kuroo doesn’t stop fucking into you, the slick glide of it making you both keen.

“More?” He echoes, equal parts amused, incredulous, and yearning. Gunmetal navy flits up to catch eyes of honey, the two sharing a look before Akaashi’s attention is back on you. “Are you sure, love?”

You nod, fingers flexing when they begin to ache, drawing deep, agonizing noises from both Bokuto and Kei. The latter tightens his hand to the point that the gripping press of your fist must be painful, but he fucks into it shamelessly, his voice pitching just a little higher as his back starts to curve, shoulders hunched as he leans forward and rests his head against Kuroo’s back.

Akaashi hums thoughtfully, resting his chin on your shoulder and pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear while watching the myriad of expressions that cross Kei and Kuroo’s faces. He kisses you once more, almost as a warning, before his voice comes out in a soft sigh. “Alright, love. We’ll give you more.”

He rolls his shoulders, adjusts his grip and braces himself a little better on his knees so he has more leverate to fuck you. Gentle, doting Akaashi, he lines the back of your neck with kisses peppering over your skin, letting Kuroo pull you forward until just the tip of his cock remains. Then, he yanks you back down hard enough that the resounding slap! startles you, Kei, and Bo from your daze, They watch, enraptured, as Akaashi fucks up into you, hard and deep thrusts that force you up against Kuroo, pressed into his chest while he pushes on your back to smooth it into an arch. You choke on a ragged scream, feeling like they’re almost in your throat, stretching you wide and leaving you empty in the short half seconds when they’ve withdrawn.

You’re not even holding yourself up anymore, limp as you have to rely on Kuroo and Akaashi gripping onto your waist, Bo and Kei still squeezing your fingers into a tight circle to fuck themselves into. It’s horribly lewd, and you barely feel like you have any support, but some part of you is aching for more of it, to be pushed even further.

The sugar was much needed in your system, even buzzing and sluggish as you are, the small burst of energy helps keep you from drifting into a semi-conscious state. It helps you move your hips, circling in a feeble attempt to do nothing more than take.

Akaashi presses his face between your shoulder blades, panting heavily and dotting your spine with tiny kisses, his voice heavy and broken on certain syllables. “That’s it, love.” He kisses you again, punctuating his words with a branding press of his lips. “You’re doing so well, you feel so good.”

The praise makes you lightheaded, your body trying to keep up with them, to move with them in the pursuit of something. You don’t think you can cum anymore, but it feels just good enough that you don’t want to stop. You’re disjointed, disconnected, your brain a solid ten paces behind your actions.

So when you lean to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the sticky tip of Kei’s cock, you don’t think much of it. But he moans, catches you by the back of your neck to keep you there, rubbing himself against your lips until you part them again and let him grind against the heat of your tongue.

“Oh, fuck.” He breathes, head falling back, his throat bobbing with a particularly dry swallow.

You suckle gently on the very tip of him, swirling your tongue against the slick head and humming when the taste of him coats the inside of your mouth, and he trembles against you, letting out a noise so close to a plea that it makes your thighs clench.��

“Feels good.” You try to say, slurred and raspy.

Kuroo makes an odd, breathy sort of laugh, bucking his hips into you once to disturb the languid pace you’re trying to set. “Does it?” He asks, tipping his face down to look at you, trying to catch you in a kiss despite the way Kei languidly grinds into your mouth. “How good, baby? How good are we making you feel?”

Kei reluctantly allows him to pull you off of his cock, panting and flushed, twitching in your grasp. For a moment, he has to slow down, his hips barely moving while he lets himself fall away from the edge. Wordlessly, Bo reels him in for a kiss, and you’re once again surrounded on all sides, feeling almost suffocated as they wrap themselves around you, overlapping and intertwined.

You whine, whatever feeble reply you’d been ready to offer Kuroo drowned out by the firm press of his lips. Plush and warm, it’s surprisingly chaste considering the horribly debauched way you feel. He kisses you like he loves you, like it’s just a distant moment where he’s caught you around the waist and is pulling you in for a good morning kiss.

Not like he’s buried to the hilt inside of you alongside one of his best friends, like he hasn’t littered your body with fingerprint bruises and blooming burgundy hickeys.

Then his tongue pries your lips apart, delving inside, and he moans at the taste of salt that lingers from having Kei in your mouth. He kisses you harder, licking into you shamelessly, clinging to your legs so tightly that you’re sure he’s only leaving more bruises.

“Gonna–” You pant heavily, hips twitching, your eyes rolling back as every functioning muscle in your body tries to tense with anticipation, your toes curling and your fingers going slack, only held in place by the way Bo and Kei keep you fisted tight around them.

“Yeah?” Bokuto coos, reaching in to cup your cheek with his free hand and pull you towards him, kissing you once to taste both Kei and Kuroo on your tongue, and then meeting Kuroo half-way in another frenzied kiss. Against his lips, he asks– “Gonna what, baby? Tell us what you need.”

He’s getting needy himself, desperate to touch as many of you as possible at once, needing to be in contact with all of you. Bo likes to feel surrounded when he cums, likes having all of you nearby. His hips buck, cock throbbing against the tight squeeze of your fingers, but he slows whenever he gets too close, just like Kei is.

You hiss, tossing your head against his grip and turning towards Kuroo, panting heavy and trying to convey to him with your eyes what you’re trying to say.

He groans at the sight of you, letting out a small wisp of breath between his teeth before he’s fucking you a little faster, brow pinched and his breath coming out in rough, shallow pants. “Come on, pretty.” He grits out, biting back a noise close to a whimper. “Come on, come on.”

You choke on a whimper, mouthing at his jaw and trying to babble out a coherent sentence, slurred and sticky words catching on your tongue. “More.” You plead, wanting to move your hips faster but unable to muster the strength. “Please, Tetsurou, Keiji, please more.”

Akaashi ghosts his lips just below your ear, voice barely a whisper. “Call him daddy, love.” He murmurs, loving despite the brutal slap of his hips against your ass, hands gentle as they push and pull on your waist. “Trust me, he’ll give you more.”

You’re too far gone to even think twice about it, beyond embarrassment, beyond rational thinking. You lean forward, mouth to Kuroo’s ear, and beg for him once more. “Please, daddy? Pl–”

“Shit! Fuck– shit!” His hips snap into you, hard and erratic without any sense of rhythm, and one of his hands grabs your face, slips to curl around your throat, though he barely applies any pressure. “Again.”

It’s a demand, but he says it like a plea, voice ragged like he’s swallowed a mouthful of gravel. “Baby, say it again, call me daddy.”

You do, breathless and hoarse, and the way he throbs inside of you is unmistakable. He wrestles control of the pace from Keiji, the latter whom gives it up gladly in order to watch the way you unknowingly tear Kuroo apart.

“Daddy!” You gasp, clawing at his back, nails raking down sweat-slicked skin until streaks of crimson follow, dotted faintly with blood that smears beneath your hands. “Please, please, m’close, daddy please.”

His eyes roll back, mouth falling open as he ducks his head to suck impossibly dark marks into your skin, overlapping some of the hickeys Kei had left, uncaring that you’re overly raw and sensitive. “Again.” He rasps, watching with wild eyes as Akaashi’s mouth twists, brow pinched in an expression of agonizing need, the look of a man who’s on the edge and is trying everything to keep it together.

Despite how hard he tries to keep himself in check, Kuroo cums first. Akaashi tries to slow down to let him ride it out, but is quickly deterred when you push back onto him with a whine, so he matches Kuroo thrust for thrust despite the way both of you squirm and cry out at the overwhelming stimulation. Kuroo chokes back a ragged sob and drops his face to your neck, squeezing you and dragging you by the hips onto his cock once, twice, only able to manage a few more thrusts before he’s spilling into you with a hoarse call of your name.

It’s still so warm, hot and thick and even Akaashi moans against your back at the feeling, lips pressed tight to your sweaty skin to try and muffle the sound, but you can feel it vibrate through your spine.

A strangled, high-pitched sound builds in Kuroo’s throat when he feels you cumming next, the silken squeeze of your cunt ripping a sharp gasp from his chest as it flutters around his sensitive cock. He sounds like he’s in pain when he moans against the sensitive skin of your throat, but he adjusts his hold on your waist and then helps Akaashi fuck you through it anyway.

You’re sure that if they try to make you cum again, you’ll die, it’s too much and you’re not even confident you’ll survive this one.

They cradle you as you fall apart, your consciousness splintering into fragments, your physical form completely dead weight as you flicker out of existence, like a shadow at the corner of your vision. It’s almost like you’re sleeping, numb to the way hands flitter over you and lift you to change your position. You’re moved easily, changed to their whims, malleable as you drift along the line of unconsciousness.

A cool drip of water on your forehead brings you back, a finely textured cloth gently wiping down your face.

“There we go.” Kuroo murmurs, kissing the tip of your nose and putting the rag aside. “Are you coming back to us now?”

Your throat feels too dry for you to say anything in reply, slowly pulling yourself from the sticky grasp of whatever blackout had clung to you, blinking away the haze and trying to stretch out.

But they’re still holding you, you’re still full to the brim, Kei keeps your slack hand pressed tight around his cock while he fucks into it, though Bokuto has released you in favor of sidling up to Kuroo and kissing him. You can’t move, but with the way your body screams in protest after even a brief attempt, you think it might be better for you that way.

You can’t even find it in you to protest when, after Kuroo pulls out, Bo takes his place. He hooks an arm around your middle, taking on most of your weight easily and pressing the swollen head of his cock into you. Akaashi’s fingers find your clit, gentle and swirling around it to avoid stimulating you too much directly. It’s nice enough, and you find yourself rocking into it as much as Bokuto’s tight hold will allow.

The stretch is a little more intense this time, but you’re mostly numb to it, the only feeling you get is the hard jolt of pleasure when one of them hits your sweet spot.

Bo is surprisingly gentle considering usually he’s the one getting too excited, breaking you down to pieces and ruining you simply because he’s overzealous at the best of times. Thick arms hold you up with ease, giving Akaashi a little more freedom to move as well, to quicken his pace and to touch you like he wants. Hands skimming up your sides, cupping your breasts, free to explore the length of your body without having to support your weight at the same time.

It’s a slow build, distant and barely noticeable, but you eventually begin to squirm when another orgasm creeps close. Impossibly, you make a strangled noise of want and roll your hips, even as part of you screams that one more is too much, it’ll definitely kill you, you can’t take anymore.

“There’s no way.” Kuroo breathes, ragged and breathless, but he leans in to watch the way you begin to twitch, the way your lashes flutter as you blink away the welling of tears blurring your vision. “Again?”

Your voice is essentially shot, little more than a dry rasp as you try to protest, try to ask for some form of relief, but you can’t quite get the words out.

Akaashi lets out a soft, rough noise against your back, pressing down hard on your clit as his hips begin to stutter. Your voice pitches high, sharp, and he groans in something close to an apology.

“I know, love.” He whispers, sounding almost regretful as he locks both of his arms around your waist, holding you tight when his pace starts to pick up. “I know, I’m sorry I– I can’t help it. ”

It’s too much when he cums, the way he fucks into you well past the point of overstimulation. Bokuto slows down, but he doesn’t stop fully, pushing both of you beyond your limit, and Akaashi sobs into your back at how sensitive he begins to feel.

Too hot, and the sounds that spill from between your legs when they continue to shove their cocks into the wet, abused clench of your pussy make you want to cover your ears and drown it all out. You have no control over the way your muscles contract around them, tight and squeezing, and then slack, relaxed, allowing them to carve out a space inside of you even as a small, precious piece of you tries to fight it still.

Akaashi buries his face into your neck, his voice raw and hoarse when he breathes your name, then Bo’s, a whisper of how good you feel sending a shiver of sweetness up your spine.

Then he’s choking back another sob, still thrusting into you even though he’s overstimulated, the hands roaming your body shaking as they squeeze and pet you, his skin faintly glimmering with sweat, and you’re sure if you could see his face then it would be the most unkempt version of Akaashi you’ve ever seen.

But he doesn’t pull out, and Bo continues to fuck you both through it.

You almost feel like you’re going to pass out again, your vision blacking out in brief flickers that leave you dazed. Enduring it is easier this way, but Kei will tap your cheeks occasionally, to gauge your attention and see if you can focus it enough to respond.

Your eyes snap to meet his every time, pupils blown wide in a clear indication that you’re still at least partially aware.

Finally, Akaashi slips out, gasping, heaving for breath as he falls back on the bed, chest stuttering and his hips still thrusting weakly into the air, like his body instinctively searches for more pleasure even though he’s well past his limit.

Then it’s just Bokuto, holding you tight over his lap and fucking himself into you, face tucked into your neck with his hands cradling your back. Your hand is still wrapped tightly around Kei’s cock, but he’s thrusting into it slowly now, dragging it out, and you swallow around nothing when he begins to move you, lifting you gently so he can slip into the space previously occupied by Akaashi.

“Kei…” You try to plead, but Kuroo shushes you softly, and it’s only then you notice that he’d moved away from you. The bed dips beneath his weight as he crawls back to your side, helping hold you up so Kei can settle.

“Just a little more, baby.” He murmurs, kissing you on the crown of your head. “So good, you’re doing so good, we’re almost done.”

“Can’t–” You gasp, the sensitive walls of your quivering cunt clenching down when Kei slowly pushes his way inside. Bokuto groans softly at the feeling, thrusting a few times to rut against him while inside of you, and it’s enough to knock the words out of your mouth.

“Can’t take anymore!” You wail, your nails dragging sharply over Bo’s shoulders, clinging because you feel so dangerously close to the brink of passing out that it makes your breath start to shallow out. They hold you steady, with Kei immediately crowding against your back and bending down to press his face into your neck, wrapping as much of himself around you as he can as though to keep you grounded.

Bo slows down, though neither of them pull out of you. Akaashi crawls close to gather you into his arms, supporting the bulk of your weight as Bo releases you to allow him the embrace, though he does keep one hand resting against your hip.

“You’re doing so well, my love.” Akaashi murmurs into your hair, husky and breathless. “You’re so beautiful, you always take us so well, always so good for us.”

You choke back a sob, shaking in his arms as he cradles you, lithe fingers stroking down your spine and his lips pressing gentle kisses to your temple. You can still feel Bo and Kei inside of you, filling you, twitching against one another with muscles straining against the urge to keep fucking you.

But they don’t.

Kuroo gets you more water, colder water, and feeds you a few more truffles, brushing the hair from your face and wiping you down with a warm rag. It feels nice, the cloth is soft against your buzzing skin, and isn’t aggravating despite the way your entire body feels like it’s raw and oversensitive.

When you can breathe again, they take turns kissing you. Slow, languid, velvet against your mouth while they each lick at the sweetness still lingering on your lips.

Kei gives you more chocolate with his turn, the truffle half-melted on his tongue, a hand cradling the back of your head to keep you pressed against him. His cock twitches inside you when you lick into his mouth with a needy whine, and his grip on your waist tightens, but he still doesn’t move despite how he clearly wants to.

Kuroo steals you next, fingers curling over the nape of your neck and dragging you in to seal his mouth over yours. He licks the rest of Kei’s molten truffle from your tongue shamelessly, swallowing your noise of protest and tilting your head back so he can kiss you just a little harder. It’s bruising, the roughest one he’s given you all night, and it leaves you a little dazed and swaying when he finally lets you go.

In contrast, Bokuto is achingly gentle when his lips meet yours, his large hand curving around the side of your neck with his thumb gliding along your cheek. His mouth is a little cold, like he’d just taken a sip of water, and you lean into it, a soft sigh that spills out when he traces the plush of your bottom lip with his tongue.

You’re lost in it, so you don’t notice when he starts to move, slowly rolling his hips in tiny circles that are barely noticeable. Kei squeezes you, makes a warning noise that you barely register, and then Bo is moving a little faster, a little deeper.

You whine in protest, wanting nothing more than to curl up and sleep until you can’t feel the ache in your bones anymore, but Akaashi turns you by your cheek to claim his kiss before you can complain.

“Just a little more, pretty.” Kuroo murmurs, pulling Kei into a kiss of his own, and you can feel the way his cock twitches lewdly inside you as a result. They don’t give you the chance to even try getting away, the slow back and forth rocking, pushing and pulling you from Kei to Bokuto. Their hands are light as they skim along your body, lips ghosting along your neck and your shoulders, leaving half-formed bruises that will darken even more by morning.

You catch the flicker of pink as Kuroo’s tongue delves into Kei’s mouth, watching as the blonde’s brow furrows and his hips stutter into you, cock throbbing hard as he unconsciously picks up the pace.

Akaashi finally gives you a moment to breathe, moving down to leave his own mark just above your collarbones, and you barely feel as he sucks the bruise deep into your skin, enough to make sure it will ache long after he’s done.

Bo nudges against your jaw with a soft whine, breaths hard and fast as he tries to clear his throat enough to speak. “Baby.” He rasps, wobbly. “Baby, I’m gonna cum, can I stay inside you? Please? Please baby I wanna cum in you, feels so fucking good.”

He groans then, hips hilting faster now, bruising and hard enough that Kei gives up entirely on moving and simply remains buried inside of you, the two of you forced to take what he gives.

Kuroo snorts, reaching out and fisting a hand in Bo’s hair, pulling his head back with a grin. “What, you’re asking permission now?” He teases, rolling his hips into the hard muscle of the spiker’s thigh. “Cute, Kou. Gonna ask her to cuddle next?”

“Maybe.” He quips back, breathless but grinning, unperturbed by the taunt. “Have fun sleeping on the couch while I’m in here, all curled up and cozy.”

Kei squeezes your hips, his chest pressed to your back as he leans over you, sweaty and trembling. Your head tilts, baring your throat for the gentle press of his lips, the faint bite of teeth when they scrape over your skin. The bickering is drowned out by the heavy pants skimming over your ear, the soft whimpers that wouldn’t be audible if you were just a few inches away. His arms tighten around you, fully wrapped around your waist to crush you against his chest, and you know that he’s getting close too.

“Gentle.” You try to say, try to remind them, but the word comes out odd, more of a drawn out syllable that ends on a hiccup when Bokuto fucks you harder.

Too much.

When he cums, he yanks both you and Kei as close as possible, thick arms wrapped around you to hold you against him while he bullies his cock into you relentlessly, your body limp in his grasp and slumped over his chest. The change in angle makes you sob, a gritty noise that feels like sand caught at the back of your tongue, and he makes a tortured sound as if to echo you, tucking his face into your hair as if that will muffle how he moans and gasps while emptying himself into your abused cunt.

Then Kei is leaning back, propped up against Kuroo’s chest with the latter’s arms draped over his shoulders. You go with him, gravity keeping you in place as Bo helps move you on your back, and then it’s just Kei inside of you.

Gentle fingers find your clit, but it doesn’t feel good anymore, it just burns. You try to push them away, but your hands won’t listen, twitching listlessly where they’d fallen at your sides.

“I’m sorry.” Kei breathes, shaking as Kuroo encourages him to move faster, pushing his hips forward to keep him fucking into you. “Feels so good, I can’t–” His voice cracks, pitches high, and then he’s curling forward into you, gasping into your neck and grabbing at your hips to yank you back onto his twitching cock.

Weakly, impossibly, you try to crawl away, try to pull off of him, but it feels like you’re beneath those weighted blankets again, the air heavy enough to pin you down while Kei uses you to finish himself off. Thick, liquid heat spills into you once more, stuffed too full, feeling it drip out of you onto the sheets, smeared along your inner thighs and your stomach, wet and sticky and cooling rapidly in the chilly air of your apartment. Kei holds you to him, arms wrapped fully around your waist to hold you while he rides it out, with Kuroo stroking the hair from his face and smoothing a hand over your hip to help you both on the way down from your spiral.

The sound is awful as he pulls out, and yet you can’t even find the presence of mind to be embarrassed, you’re sure that you’re only seconds away from slipping into a coma anyway so it hardly matters now.

Akaashi holds you close, murmuring into your ear as he gathers you in his arms and lifts you off the bed. Apologies, mostly, because you whine with pain when he moves you, and more so when he starts to walk with you.

Bokuto leaves the room, and Kuroo joins Akaashi in checking you over, fingertips skimming over your sensitive skin, tracing the outlines of bite marks and bruises. They fuss over you, no longer offering sugary kisses and sweet praise, they examine you with a fine tuned familiarity built up over years of aftercare, knowing when to offer sweetness and when to give you the essentials instead.

Kei, after taking a minute or so to recover, begins changing your sheets while they’re busy with you, though he’s quicker to get dressed than any of you are. He’s come back to himself, a little, now more aware and no longer immersed in his own subspace, but his eyes still soften when they catch yours from across the room, the stoic facade melting.

“Hey, pretty girl. Still with us?” Kuroo cups your cheek gently, patting it until your eyes move to focus on him instead.

You hum, a vaguely affirmative sort of sound, and Akaashi sighs with tepid relief, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

When Bo comes back into the room, you’re transferred into his arms despite your delirious protests. He carries you into the bathroom and sets you gently on the sink, cupping the back of your head to lean it against the mirror, then he rocks back on his heels to look at you.

You can only imagine how you look now, in the light, completely bare. You’d expect him to look disgusted, almost, finally seeing how thoroughly wrecked you’ve become.

Instead, he sighs, hands on your hips as he dips down to kiss you reverently, murmuring into the space between your lips in a meltingly sweet whisper. “We’re so damn lucky, y’know.”

He takes a few moments to just kiss you, soft little pushes of his lips against yours, moving like warm satin when you tip your face from one side to the other, guided by his hand. “So pretty like this, baby. So fucking pretty.”

You bask in his praise for a moment, preening as he kisses you between each little compliment, but then Kei steps through the door into the bathroom and brushes past you, though he does stop long enough to give you both a kiss at Bo’s insistence.

Rough hands slip beneath your thighs, and you only have a second to even think about bracing before Bokuto hoists you up and jostles you to make sure you’re sturdy in his arms. The abruptness of it makes you whimper, though, sore muscles protesting the careless movement. He winces, brushing his nose against yours in a quiet apology.

“Be careful, Koutarou.” Kei sighs, setting down a cold water bottle on the sink and opening the cabinet that has all of your soaps. “Let me do it, go find a brush for her hair.”

Bo pouts, squeezing you gently and pressing his cheek against your forehead, you can almost picture the dramatic expression he must be making. “No way, bathtime is the best part. You go get her brush, it’s in the nightstand on Kuroo’s side of the bed.”

Idly, you wonder what the fuck Kuroo was doing using your brush, but the thought is a fleeting one.

You lift your head, trying to turn to see where Kei is standing, but you quickly feel the heat of him at your back as he comes to stand behind you. His arms loop around your middle, though Bo still carries most of your weight. You melt against him, his lips at your shoulder and his hands rubbing soothing circles into some of your sore muscles, you can’t help yourself.

“Then be more careful, she’s already sore. We don’t need you making it worse, you brute.” He mutters the last part under his breath, muffling the insult by pressing a kiss to the space just below your ear.

Bokuto bristles, a deep-set frown etched into his face. “What was that? Weren’t calling me a brute when I was balls deep in–”

Akaashi’s calm, cool voice cuts through the rising volume of the argument. “The bath is getting cold.”

Frigid silence, both men tensing sharply even though Akaashi physically does not pose much of a threat. Kei ducks his head, slipping out of the bathroom with a muttered apology, and Bokuto quietly carries you to the hot tub of water beckoning you from the corner. It burns, at first, stinging your skin and making you squirm with discomfort as he lowers you into it, but it fades quickly and then, when you’re fully submerged with your head lolling against the rim, you think you might be dangerously close to passing out like this. He crouches down beside you, knees knocking against porcelain in his efforts to be as near to you as possible while you soak.

It smells a little like tea tree, but softer, and the water has a green tint, something mixed in that has your skin tingling pleasantly. It’s opaque, murky with what you suspect to be a mixture of milk and honey. You already feel a little more supple to the touch, and you make a low, pleased hum as you sink into it with a drawn out exhale.

Kei reenters the bathroom quietly, stopping briefly to accept the comforting kiss Akaashi offers before coming to join Bo, though he sits on the edge of the tub beside you instead of staying on the floor. He pulls your hair out from beneath your head and cups handfuls of water to pour over your scalp, careful to make sure it doesn’t get in your eyes, and he passes your brush to Bo in a silent peace offering.

It’s accepted with a wide, beaming smile, practiced hands separating your damp hair to begin brushing it out, painstakingly slow. This is the most gentle Bokuto is with you, when he’s handling your hair or your body after a sore scene. Despite his tendency to be almost exceedingly overzealous, he treats you like you’re made of something even finer than gold afterwards.

“She wanted pizza after this, right?” Kuroo calls from down the hall, though his voice gradually grows louder as he moves closer to the bathroom. “I thought she wrote her order down for us, but I can’t find the sticky note.”

“She asked for fried chicken instead, and Kei put the note on top of the fridge because she kept trying to change things and he didn’t want her messing the order up.” Akaashi tips his face unconsciously as Kuroo stops by the door for a quick kiss, leaning into it with a soft sigh that Kuroo echoes with a smile.

Before leaving, he stops when he sees you sprawled in the tub, a quick, inquisitive glance scanning you over.

“I turned on the heating pad, so it’ll be warm by the time she’s ready for bed.” He leans against Akaashi with a soft smile, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him steady. While you and Kei are clearly the more fucked out of the bunch, nobody came out of it completely unscathed. “Fucking hell, look at her legs. Was that all me?”

Bo laughs, almost a bark of a sound, and your brow pinches once at the sharpness of it. “Who else? You’re the only one who gets that crazy with your teeth!” He sets your brush aside, picking up one of your shampoo bottles next and inspecting the label.

Deeming it acceptable, he squirts some of the floral scented peach soap into Kei’s waiting hand.

Kei kisses your forehead in apology, even though you’re both used to Kuroo and Bo’s loud banter by now. His fingers scrub your lathered soap into your scalp, gentle circles that would make you purr if you were a little more coherent. Still, you push your head into his hands in encouragement, undeterred and shameless even when he clicks his tongue at your impatience.

Kuroo comes a little closer, crouching down by the side of the tub and reaching out for your hand, kissing the back of it sweetly. “You coming out of it, pretty?” He asks, lips still lightly pressed against your knuckles.

You hum, and that’s enough of an answer for them.

“She’s answering us, at least.” Bo retakes his spot once Kuroo leaves to go order your dinner, a new bottle in hand as he’s lathering himself practically up to the elbows with some of your body wash. “That means she’ll probably be awake soon.”

Kei scoffs a little, rinsing out your hair with warm water. “She’s already awake.”

“You know what I mean!”

Akaashi presses a hand to his forehead and tries to wave off the looming headache creeping in, eyes half-narrowed as he debates on kicking the two of them out of the bathroom.��

Unfortunately, he knows Bo wouldn’t be willing to leave. Kei could be persuaded, but he’d be incredibly grumpy for the rest of the night. Kuroo is usually the only reasonable one, but even then it’s a 50/50 chance of whether or not he’ll just choose to be difficult.

Warm hands lathered thick with soap press down on your neck, rubbing gently over your pulse before sliding down your shoulders. It’s more of a massage than a means to clean you, but it feels nice, and Bo is careful whenever his fingers glide over bruises or sore spots. He kneads out some of the tension in your shoulders, the juncture where they meet your neck, slippery fingers ghosting down between your breasts in a touch that is far from sexual. It’s intimate, how he handles you, parting your thighs and rubbing wide circles on the insides to chase away the lingering ache from how far wide your legs had been spread for hours.

Kei scrunches some conditioner into your hair, the scent of peaches and rose water a subtle contrast to the sharpness of tea tree. Your head tilts back, lips parted as if to speak up and call for his attention, but no words come out. He pauses when he sees you trying to talk, brows dipping low with something akin to thinly veiled concern.

You try to gently clear your throat, but it feels like your vocal cords are made of gravel, and you’re still a little far in the back of your head. Slow flickers of clarity are coming back to you, but words are still out of your reach apparently.

He nods once in a show of understanding, cupping the back of your head to keep it from hitting the tub as he bends down to kiss you. Akaashi comes closer, snagging the bottle of water Kei had set down and unscrewing the cap so he can hold it out for you. Before you can attempt to reach for it with an arm that feels about a hundred pounds too heavy, he’s overlapping his hand with Kei’s at the nape of your neck and tipping the bottle against your lips so you can drink.

It’s deliciously cold, and flavored faintly with lemon, soothing the ache in your raw throat a little more with every swallow. The bright flavor of the citrus helps wake you up, and you’re able to hold your own head up to finish the bottle. Akaashi sets the empty plastic container aside, then presses a kiss to your cold lips with a soft smile.

Kei leaves to get a towel from the dryer while Bokuto rinses out your hair, knowing that Kuroo would have already thrown a few in for a cycle to keep them nice and warm for when you finished with your bath. Everyone moves in sync, in tandem with each other while you’re struggling to even remember how to function like a semi-human.

You begin to come back to yourself, slowly, though it still feels like everything is wrapped in thick, sticky layers of tar or molasses. You’re a little more aware by the time Akaashi helps you out of the tub, when Kei wraps you in a warm, soft towel that doesn’t irritate your skin.

Bokuto picks you up, mindful of before when he’d lifted you without preamble. He cradles you, pressing little kisses to your wet hair while carrying you into the living room where Kuroo is waiting leaned against the kitchen counter, phone in hand, wearing a pair of loose sweatpants that are definitely not his. A frown mars his face, kiss-swollen lips pursed like a pout, one that melts the moment he looks up to see you all filing into the open space.

“Hey, pretty.” He holds his arms out for you, ignoring Bo’s little whine as he gathers you to his chest, though the latter almost doesn’t let go until Akaashi hip checks him on the way into the kitchen. He buries his face in your wet hair, inhaling deep and then kissing you on the top of your head. “You look a little more here now , can you talk to us yet?”

You lick your lips, blinking through the lingering film of your high and the remnants of your subspace, but when you try to reach for a response, you find that your mouth still isn’t quite cooperating. Closer, but not there yet.

So you shake your head, which is at least enough to let them know that you’re cognizant.

Bokuto goes into the kitchen while Kuroo carries you to the couch, laying you down and tucking a pillow beneath your head. Kei drapes a blanket over you, Akaashi brings your bottle of water and sets it on the floor beside you, and then the three of them are settling down on the floor in a little half circle in front of you.

There’s a hand in your hair, just petting, fingertips that feather over the features of your face, the bruises on your legs poking out from beneath the cover, smoothing you over now that you’re laid out and they can look at you. You try to keep your eyes from falling shut, trying to clear away what little of the fog you can differentiate from your high. You’re gone for the rest of the night for sure, but if you can crawl out of your subspace then at least you can communicate with them.

They worry more on the nights where you fall asleep before fully coming out of it, and you can tell by the way they hover that they’re dangerously close to that line. Three sets of eyes are on you, almost unblinking, intense, taking in the damage that they’ve done to you throughout the night.

“Creepy.”

It slips out before you can even register it, a knee-jerk reaction that is too strong for even your recovering lungs to keep down. Hoarse, barely audible, little more than rasp and a pinch of your voice, but loud enough that they hear it.

Kuroo barks out an ugly, wheezing laugh that makes Kei grimace, his hand coming down sharply to slap against his knee as he cackles.

“I can’t believe that’s the first thing you say to us!” He’s grinning, bright and relieved , bracing his elbow against his knee so he can rest his mouth against his hand, obscuring the wide smile he can’t quite stifle. “I’m paying for your dinner, and this is the thanks I get?”

Akaashi looks significantly more displeased, unamused even when you stretch your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers to get his attention. It reminds him eerily of earlier, when you had been trying to get him to stop frowning at you for wanting to take three gummies at the start of the movie.

He takes your hand, curling your fingers into his palm and pressing a light kiss against your knuckles, then pressing them into his cheek with a soft, placated sigh. “You’re bad for my health.” He murmurs, completely serious despite it being a blatant lie.

“Foods almost here!” Bo calls from down the hallway, and Kei gets up with a drawn out, pained groan to wait by the door.

Before he can leave, you try to call for him, though your voice cracks on the single syllable of his name. He hears you still, and stops, crouching back down beside you and brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. His eyes are soft, molten gold that glimmers when he looks down at you. “Hm?”

“Kiss.”

His laughter is soft and sweet, and his hands are warm when he cups your face and brings you in for a kiss. It’s chaste and gentle, the faintest pressure against your lips, mindful of how swollen and sore they’ve become.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget how sweet Kei is, when he’s not trying to appear unaffected and distant from everything. He’s always softer when he thinks you won’t remember.

Akaashi crawls onto the couch with you, and you roll onto your back to accommodate him as he sprawls himself over you. Tucking his face into your neck, his hands slipping beneath your back, your legs parting around the width of him as he settles between them. Warm, his weight is a comfort that helps keep you grounded as you climb out of your own head. The blanket is forgotten on the floor, though you’re sure if you get cold later someone will throw it over you.

“I got extra biscuits–Bokuto you are not allowed to touch more than one box, got it?” Kuroo sets his phone aside and gets up when Kei comes back in with several boxes in his arms, and Bo is quick to join them. Akaashi stays cuddled up with you, rubbing your back, nuzzling into your neck and whispering into your skin about how good you are, how sweet, how much he loves you.

He always brings you back like this, talking you into coherence, wanting to make sure some of the first things you hear when you can process words again are praise and affirmations. While the others get the food set up, he’s slowly coaxing you back into full sentience.

It’s his favorite part, so they tend to let him be the one to do it most often, just like Bo gets to handle bath time.

When you look down at him, blinking slowly, and he sees the first real flicker of comprehension on your face, he smiles.

“Welcome back.” He murmurs, propping himself up on his elbows so he can lean over you, watching as awareness washes over you, crystal-clear, and then you’re smiling up at him.

“Thanks, Keiji.” You meet him half-way when he dips down to kiss you, tangling your fingers into the thick hair at the nape of his neck and tugging, pulling him closer until his weight is fully settled over you again. He sighs against you, like he’s finally able to relax, tension draining away the more kisses you give him. “Miss me that much?”

“Don’t push it.” He breathes, but he’s smiling against your lips and he makes no effort to hide it. “Do you think you can eat?”

“I could eat literally an entire bucket of chicken by myself.”

His body trembles with his silent laughter, and then he’s up, moving to help you off of the couch while you clutch at the folds of your towel to keep it from slipping.

Bokuto beams when he sees you walking on your own, immediately sweeping over with all the intensity of a storm as he picks you up. You yelp, locking your legs tight around his waist and then wincing when it sends a sharp stab of pain through your hips.

Kuroo thwacks him on the back, frowning. “Oi, frosty, you’re gonna be banned from hug privileges during aftercare if you can’t be careful.”

Kei chimes in. “That’s the second time tonight.”

“Snitch!” You gasp, snickering shamelessly when he shoots you a sharp glare, though the intensity of it is lessened by the way he instinctively seems to gravitate towards you, already moving from his spot against the counter to approach you and Bo. Waiting patiently, Bokuto holds you steady when Kei leans over to kiss you, pretty hands cupping your jaw to tilt your face how he wants.

“Bokuto…” Akaashi sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and stopping at the entryway into the kitchen, brow cocked and lips thinned with displeasure. “You know to be careful with her.”

Even though Bokuto is both taller and larger than Akaashi, he still seems to shrink beneath the force of that unamused, deadpan stare. Slowly, he puts you down, and Kei helps steady you when you’re on your own two feet again.

“I’m alright, guys.” You reach across the counter to pluck a biscuit from one of the boxes, though you find your body still doesn’t want to cooperate with you. Akaashi moves the box closer, and accepts the little kiss you press to his lips with a smile. “The worst of it will be tomorrow, you can rag on him a little if he’s still not careful then. Okay?”

Bo pouts, leaning into your back and pressing his cheek against yours, arms winding around your waist as he hunches over you. “I’m sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to hurt you.” He’s genuinely remorseful, regretful, even when he’s playing rough with you it’s clear he doesn’t like causing you pain.

You tilt your head to the side, kissing him loudly on his rosy cheek before returning to your biscuit. “It’s okay, I’m not the one you’re gonna have to deal with if you make it to three strikes though.” Your smile is cheeky, playful when you feel him tense behind you.

You, Kei, and Bo turn in sync to look at Kuroo, whose hip is propped against the counter, arms folded over his chest while he watches you three. When he sees you looking at him, his grin slants into a smirk, a crooked stretch across his face that you know means trouble.

“Who, me?” He purrs, pushing off of the counter and stalking towards you, slowly, one hand catching Bo by the chin to pull him along as he steps into your space. “You make it sound like I’m the executioner in this relationship.”

You lean into him when he ducks down towards you, the bridge of his nose ghosting over yours. He crowds you against the counter, savoring the warmth of your lips on his when he steals a kiss.

He presses as much of his body against you as he can, every hard edge met with a soft, plush curve, and he groans into your mouth even though surely he should be sated by now. His hands cup your jaw, thumb absentmindedly swiping away a lingering biscuit crumb from your cheek while he curves his body around yours, almost protectively, possessively.

You indulge him for as long as you can, but you’re starving.

“Has everyone gotten their fill?” You ask, though Kuroo doesn’t let you pull away far enough to speak properly, kissing you through your question despite how you try to squirm away. “I will literally die if I don’t eat–Tetsurou! Quit it!”

He laughs when you shove him away, sneaking one more kiss before you can properly fend him off and then sauntering back to his previous position to check his phone. It’s impossible to keep him from work for too long, but he’s taking the entire day off tomorrow so you’ll let him get away with it this time.

Akaashi passes you a plate, allowing you to pick through the spread on the countertop to get what you want first. Kuroo must have ordered more than you asked for, extra boxes of biscuits and all of the sides, even an extra bucket of chicken that you’re sure won’t last as long as he thinks it will. Not with you and Bokuto in the same apartment, especially not with weed in the picture.

They hover over you while you fill up your plate, never letting you move more than a few inches away from any one of them at a time, in case your legs give out or you can’t keep yourself up. You appreciate that they let you have your independence during this, sometimes the full coddling aftercare is nice, but usually it helps you come out of your subspace a little easier if you can do smaller things for yourself.

Still, the scene was rougher than you anticipated, and the three edibles were definitely more than you planned for. Your body is still trembling, legs weak and threatening to collapse beneath your weight at any second, so you try to use the counter for support to make it at least a little more bearable.

Akaashi rests a hand at the base of your spine when you begin to sway, and Kei catches you against his chest the moment your legs buckle. You groan quietly and let yourself slump into him, the warmth of his hands at the back of your head and between your shoulder blades a comfort. Akaashi comes closer, sandwiching you between the warmth of their bodies to keep you from falling.

“Do you need us to do it?” He asks, voice soft as he rests his chin on your shoulder. He won’t push, not if you really want to do it on your own, but you can tell he’s hoping you’ll say yes.

Or, you thought that was the case.

Cool fingers take you by the chin and guide you in for a chaste kiss, something simple and soothing that takes care not to irritate your sore mouth. You lean into it with a soft, breathy murmur, but before you can fully reciprocate your plate is being taken from your hands while Akaashi holds you in his arms, keeping you pressed tight against him while Kei carries your dinner over to the coffee table in front of the TV.

“What’s the point in asking if you aren’t gonna wait for an answer?” You huff, all false petulance and snark as you let him kiss you again, still greedy even though you thought he’d had enough of you throughout the night.

Silly of you to think that any one of them will ever have enough of you.

“A distraction.” He murmurs, completely without shame, between kisses.

“You’re insatiable, Keiji.” Kuroo teases, breezing by with a hand ghosting over your arm, fingers trailing from yours to Akaashi’s. “We’ll have time for this tomorrow, though. She does need to eat.”

It’s not often that Akaashi is the one who has to be, even if gently, reprimanded. His face burns with embarrassment, a rare and pleasant sight, and you find yourself grinning as you hold his cheeks in your hands to keep him from hiding it from you.

For once, Bokuto is the responsible one. He gently steers you both by the shoulders into the living room, where Kuroo has already set out a few cold water bottles and some freshly dried blankets that are warm, fluffy and inviting.

“Are we gonna finish the movie from earlier?” You ask, stopping at Kuroo’s side to give him a grateful kiss that he accepts with a lazy smile, a hand at your hip to keep you steady before he allows Bo to help you sit down.

You’re tucked in quickly, a blanket draped over your lap, a towel, then your plate of chicken. Bokuto beams at you, crouched down so he’s at eye-level while he runs the ridge of his knuckles up and down your cheek. His eyes are half-lidded, a pretty flush on his cheeks with a dopey little smile curling at his lips. Lost in it, he doesn’t notice that the others have already begun filling their plates when usually he’d be first in line. It’s almost embarrassing, the way they dote on you, but every gesture carries with it a sense of urgency, the need to take care of you, familiar and practically a well-oiled machine at this point.

He leans forward and brushes a kiss over your forehead, then lower to kiss your eyelids next, unable to hide his smile when your lashes flutter in surprise at the feeling. It’s the most meticulous you see him outside of the gym or the court, the careful way he maps out the features of your face with his lips, almost ritualistic in his need to do it after every scene.

You’ve all learned how to take care of each other, and sometimes they know what you need even before you do, so you let yourself melt into him and even reciprocate a few of his kisses when you can tilt your face in time to catch his lips with your own.

He loves when you do that, but he does reluctantly part from you when Kei touches his back in a wordless signal that it’s his turn to get his food.

“Do you want to finish it? We could try something else, you weren’t really paying attention earlier so we could just restart it and watch from the beginning.” Kuroo leans over your shoulder from behind the couch, straightening your blanket so the towel covers most of it while you’re eating in case you make a mess. Normally, if you did, they’d tease you.

But your arms feel like they’re made of jelly and, while your mind is a little more clear now that you aren’t in a subspace, the edible is still going strong. No more teasing tonight, not of that variety anyway. He presses a quick kiss to your temple as he withdraws, though he does pause to give Kei one as well when the latter tucks himself in at your side.

Kei, surprisingly, leans into it, letting his head fall back just in time to catch the kiss with his mouth instead of his cheek. There’s a soft, pleased murmur, and then Kuroo is cupping his jaw with a large hand and deepening the kiss. They melt into it, into each other, with Kuroo bowed low over the back of the couch just so he can reach and Kei craning his head back despite the awkward angle.

You soften, subdued and tired, and watch with something fluttery and buzzy blooming in your chest. Bokuto settles in on your other side, a bowl of everything thrown haphazardly together with a biscuit stuffed into his mouth. He smiles at you around it, or tries to, and the silly sight makes you feel warm, protected, it takes everything you have to keep eating and not just drift to sleep right there surrounded by the comfort of your loved ones.

Akaashi comes to sit on the other side of Kei, though he pauses in passing to give both you and Bo a sweet, slow kiss. Unhurried, he takes his time, his cold hands cupping your cheeks with his thumbs feathering over your cheekbones. There’s no lust behind it, nothing more than overwhelming affection that you can taste on your lips like sugar.

The move is rewound to play from the beginning, four bodies curled in together on one couch as your fifth takes his time picking through the spread to find what he wants to eat. Kuroo isn’t the biggest fan of junk food, but after all of the calories you burned even he isn’t going to argue that shitty takeout will hit the spot better than anything else.

Still, you can hear him grumbling to himself like an old man as he reluctantly fills his plate with greasy chicken and fried potatoes on the side, you’re already dreading the micromanaging of your meals tomorrow.

Always on the same wavelength, Bo nudges your side and ducks down to whisper, comically loud with a glitter of mischief in his eyes. “I bet Tetsu is gonna feed you nothin’ but green stuff tomorrow, wanna sneak out for some pizza during lunch?”

You can almost hear the sound of Kuroo’s neck snapping as he whips around to face you, but you’re both steadfastly stuffing your mouths with biscuits to avoid questions, eyes innocently locked into the TV screen as though Bokuto hadn’t spoken up at all. Kei nearly chokes on his laughter, the only indication that Kuroo hadn’t just been hearing things.

Even when it’s accidentally, he’s a snitch. Akaashi sighs, long and exasperated, but if you were to look at his face you’d find him smiling.

Kuroo finally joins you, settling once more on the ground between your legs so he can stay close without having to squeeze himself in whatever little space would be available with four of you crammed onto one couch.

With everyone settled and quiet, relaxed, you can focus on the movie and finishing your food. You have to eat slowly, your arms a little late to respond when you try to move, but it’s not impossible as long as you take care not to rush.

Everything is greasy, salty, and you’re definitely going into a food coma the moment you get into bed, but after the workout you just endured it feels like the best meal you’ve ever had. Kei shares his sides with you after you finish yours, even though Bokuto tries to insist that he eat all of it because he never seems to eat enough, and Kuroo gets up to refill your plate with your favorites before you can even ask.

You can’t help feeling incredibly lucky, right now. Listening to them banter, bicker, trying not to laugh as Kuroo complains about different aspects of the movie that he doesn’t like, then unable to hold the laughter back when Akaashi counters all of his points with a carefully controlled monotone. One of the quickest ways to piss Kuroo off.

You drift, comfortable, sore but sated and now with significantly more salt in your system. While good at the time, now you’re craving something disgustingly sweet.

“Do we still have any ice cream?” You ask, voice still a little hoarse, cracking both from disuse and overuse at the same time. Kei passes you your water bottle, the condensation chilling the tips of his fingers, and you gently brush your nose against his in lieu of making him endure a greasy kiss as thanks.

He returns the gesture gratefully.

“We got some of your favorites earlier when Keiji went to the grocery store.” Kuroo tilts his head back, resting it atop your thighs so he can look at you. “There’s a sale going on though, so if you want then tomorrow we’ll have Kou pick up more on his way home.”

Your lips purse, fingers itching to work their way into his hair and play with it, but not wanting to touch him before you’ve had the chance to wash your hands. His lips twitch, corners curling into half a grin before he stifles it

Bo perks up, bumping his shoulder into you gently and giving you a sweet smile. “I could stop by that cat cafe to get you a coffee too, they have those cute little cups that you and Tetsu like.”

You perk up, recalling the little latte he’d brought back after practice one day. “Can I have one of those cat shaped marshmallows in it? The pink ones.” You muster up the strongest puppy eyes you can manage, even knowing that there’s no way he would deny you, it’s more for dramatic effect and because Bo gets insane cute aggression, you like watching him agonize over fighting back the urge to squish you into his arms.

As expected, his brow furrows strongly, lips pressed thin as his fingers curl into fists. Though he looks angry, it melts away as he dips forward to kiss you on the mouth, loudly, completely unperturbed by the mess. “C’mon, I can do better than that. I’ll get you at least two.”

“And one of their white chocolate caramel cookies?” This time when you give him the puppy eyes, Bokuto breaks. He squeezes you by the cheeks and drags you in for a much louder kiss, smacking your lips together while cooing about how cute you are, refusing to let you pull away even when you’re cackling with raspy laughter and trying to pry his hands away from your face.

“Bokuto.” Akaashi’s voice is gentle, but still cool enough that you stop roughhousing. You’ll regret it tomorrow, sure, but as you and Bo sit and giggle beside each other, sharing smiles with his arm wrapping around your shoulders, you can’t find it in you to think it isn’t worth it. You love moments like these, the domesticity, knowing that in a few years there’s a chance you look back and reminisce on it all with your loved ones fondly.

Bo pulls you gently back against his chest, and you don’t protest when Akaashi gets up to take your plate into the kitchen, coming back just long enough to clean off your hands and give the four of you kisses before he’s returning to start washing the dishes. You can feel yourself drifting again, physical fatigue and the edibles both trying to drag you deep into slumber, worse now that you’re full and satiated on multiple levels. It’d be easier if you weren’t still in your wet towel, you’re sure you would have already fallen asleep by now if you were wearing something warm and dry.

Akaashi probably did that intentionally, wanting to keep you awake until they could get you into bed.

“Hey, pretty.” Kuroo twists around so he’s on his knees, warm hands resting against your thighs where he taps his fingertips to get your attention. The position makes your cheeks warm up, that grinning face peering up at you from between your legs, self assured and still somehow sweet. “This look familiar?” He teases, but his voice is soft, and his arms loop around your waist for leverage as he scoots a little closer.

You groan softly, planting your hand against his forehead to try and keep him at bay, but he’s undeterred. “Tetsurou I am so tired, please don’t do whatever it is you’re thinking of doing.”

He softens, melts, resting his head on your lap and squeezing you gently. “Just wanna hold you a little, that’s all.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to one of the many bruises littering your thighs. “Tsukki was greedy tonight, I barely got to see you.”

Kei scoffs, petulant, but you simply hum and run your fingers through Kuroo’s hair, brushing it out of his face and watching as he becomes molten against you, languid and content now that you’re aware and willfully touching him again.

He doesn’t like to show it, though he’s getting better at letting himself be vulnerable with you, but as much as he likes the more intense scenes you experiment with, they sometimes make him feel a little on edge afterwards. He likes when you want to touch him, and it often seems that your aftercare is as much for him as it is for you. Kuroo and Akaashi more than any of them need the reminder and reassurances that you love them after harcore play like this.

“Do you wanna go lay down? We can cuddle and get all cozy since Kei changed the sheets for us.” You tip forward to brush your lips over his forehead, but he lifts himself just in time to catch you in a proper kiss instead.

“Yeah.” He breathes, putting just enough distance between you that he can rest his forehead against yours. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Kei taps his fingertips over your knee, dappling the sensitive skin there until you turn your attention towards him, your brow cocked high and your lips pressed thin to hide your smile.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep on your own tonight?” He asks, palm flat over your thigh and warm against your cool skin. He toys with the edge of your towel and pushes it up, slowly, half a smirk playing with his lips when you shiver at his touch.

You shake your head, fingers buried thick in Kuroo’s hair, scratching until the man is groaning softly against your thighs and clinging to your waist, unperturbed even as you lean to rest your head on Kei’s shoulder. “No, I wanna sleep with you guys, don’t wanna wake up alone either.”

He tilts his face down to brush a kiss into your hair, murmuring softly in understanding. His other hand joins yours in petting Kuroo, slow as his nails circle over the nape of his neck.

“Nobody said it was my turn to be spoiled.” Kuroo tries for cheeky, all velvety confidence and snark, but it’s tempered by his softness and the lovey glow that surrounds him. His eyes are molten whiskey and his face is a little flushed, brows drawn tight together in a look of content adoration.

“But you were so good to me tonight, Tetsurou.” You murmur, dropping your hand to cup his cheek, feathering your thumb over his lips and biting back a silky sigh when they part at your touch. “Only feels right that I love on you a little after all that.”

He lets out an odd sort of chuckle, almost sheepish, blushing beautifully beneath your praise like he’s still somehow unaccustomed to it after all this time.

“Last one to bed has to straighten all the blankets!” Bokuto gives you approximately a single breath’s worth of time for processing before he’s zipping down the hallway, surprisingly nimble despite his size. Akaashi is still standing in the kitchen, drying towel in hand, with a single brow twitching in thinly veiled exasperation.

He softens when he catches sight of you, however, eyes lingering on Kuroo’s head on your lap and yours and Kei’s hands in his hair.

“Go to bed, loves.” He hums, crossing his arms low over his chest and leaning against the counter. “I’ll finish up here, it won’t take me too long.”

Kei shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your temple and ruffling Kuroo’s hair before standing up. “No, I’ll help. We should pack something for Koutarou’s lunch tomorrow anyway. He’ll forget.”

You watch as he joins Akaashi in the kitchen, a blissful smile toying at your lips as you bask in the warmth of your little family. Kuroo moves, then, getting to his feet with a tired groan that morphs into a hiss when his joints begin to pop and crack.

“Gettin’ old on us, Tetsurou?” You tease, giggling and pulling your legs out of his reach when he tries to playfully swat at them. His arms find their way home around the bend of your waist, lifting you against him until you’re standing fully upright and letting him support your weight.

“I was old twenty years ago.” He huffs, dropping down to hook one of his arms behind your knees, gently gathering you against his chest before taking you into the hallway.

Bokuto is already waiting for you in your bed, tucked beneath the covers and snuggled into Akaashi’s pillow. He brightens at the sight of you, arms stretched wide for you and Kuroo to fall into.

So you do, Kuroo’s weight heavy against your back as he presses you between his body and Bo’s, the two smothering you with kisses and wandering hands that soothe your aches and help you melt against them.

You almost whine when Kuroo presses his hand between your legs, fingers curling gently over your sex, but he doesn’t do more than that, just giving you a simple pressure to ease some of the pain. Bo’s hand glides along the plush of your thigh, the other curled up in the sliver of space between your bodies, where his fingers hook around yours.

“Gonna miss you guys tomorrow.” His voice is soft, uncharacteristically small.

Your eyes flutter open, mirth spilling into your gaze when you look up to see Bo pouting, worry shining clear as a sunray across his face.

Your chin lifts, and he’s quick to meet you half-way, lips softened and plush with some of Akaash’s balm. Against his mouth, you murmur– “We’ll miss you too, Kou, but you have a game soon and can’t afford to miss practice. Do you wanna video call during your lunch break so we can all eat together?”

He brightens, lips curving into a smile that you can feel against your own. Kuroo pushes against you gently, scooting just a bit closer, and then the mattress dips between another body’s weight. Kei, stopping at your bedside just long enough to check on you.

When a warm, tentative hand reaches across Kuroo to brush over your thigh, you hum into Bo’s mouth and lean into the touch so Kei knows it’s welcome. Grateful that you’re able to keep the AC on, you can already feel how your body begins to heat up, and it’s only going to get worse when the rest finally join you.

Kuroo’s lips brush against your shoulder. “Want me to put the sheets in the freezer for a minute, baby?”

You can’t help laughing a little, rolling back so you can look up at him with a wry smile. “I don’t know what weird link you have going on with my body temperature, but I’m fine, thank you.”

He huffs, affronted and offended even as he traces a path of kisses up the side of your neck, slow and lazy while he rubs his thumb over the edge of your towel. “I’m just a very attentive boyfriend, it’s not weird.”

“Speaking of attentive boyfriends.” Akaashi’s voice is dry, and Bo immediately sits up to greet him, responsive like a puppy. “Help her sit up so we can get that towel off, the sheets are getting wet.”

Bokuto is the one to lift you, holding you upright while Kuroo unwraps the wet towel from your body. Akaashi sits on the side of the bed and holds out one of his softer night shirts, one of the ones that are off limits from being stolen by greedy partners. It feels like heaven against your raw skin as he slips it over your head, mindful of how sore your arms are when you push them through the long sleeves. He moves to withdraw, already miles away as he runs through his nightly routine in his head, but you catch him by the arm and press a quick kiss to his hand before he’s out of reach.

“Thank you, Keiji.” You murmur, his wrist twisting so his palm kisses yours, fingers lacing together as he brings your hand to his lips to mirror your gesture, though his kiss lingers longer than yours did.

“Of course, love. Lay down, Kei and I will be in soon.” He pushes on your shoulders, gentle but insistent, and you’re boneless as Bo pulls you back against his chest. Laying down with you curled up in his arms and Kuroo wrapped around you from behind, Bokuto can’t help smiling, the sun in his eyes as he practically glows with warmth, whole in a way that he’d never known he hadn’t been until meeting you.

Now dressed and ready to go to sleep, Akaashi crawls beneath the covers and settles himself between your legs, his head on your stomach, one of his hands resting on Kuroo’s thigh while Bo’s fingers comb through his hair.

When you look around to try and catch a glimpse of Kei, you find him standing in the doorway, arms loosely crossed over his chest while he watches the four of you cuddle up, a softness on his face that melts like hot sugar when he meets your gaze, though he can’t quite muster the same angry scowl that he usually hides behind.

But he doesn’t linger long, placing a water bottle on the nightstand before crawling to the other side of the bed so he can slide in beside Bokuto, who immediately rolls onto his back so he can pull him against his chest with a happy little hum. His other arm comes around you, so you join Kei in cuddling into Bo’s sides with Kuroo wrapped around your back. Akaashi is nice and cool between your legs, a balm against the overwhelming heat encasing you on all sides.

A warm hand settles over yours, fingers curling to find home in the spaces between yours, and your eyes flutter open to find Kei watching you with a sleepy expression mirroring your own, cheek squished against Bo’s chest. You move your joint hands to rest over Bokuto’s heart, feeling the steady rhythm of it and how it quickens at your touch.

“I love you.” You murmur, towards no one in specific but directed at everyone.

They respond in kind, hands that squeeze you gently and rub soothing swirls into your aching muscles, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin to trace the outlines of bite marks and hickeys, lips ghost along your neck and your face, your arms, the skin of your stomach, everywhere they can reach. They whisper it back, quietly in the way they touch you, the way they treasure you in the afterglow.

However much pain you’re in tomorrow, it’s worth it for the moments like these, and the moments that will come after you wake up.

Kuroo will try to insist on carrying you everywhere, even to the bathroom, just to be obnoxious. It’s to hide the worry, the way he’ll tease you to see if you have the energy to even get riled up, push your buttons just to see if you have enough bite to snap. A nervous habit, he can’t help but prod you the more stressed out he is, like he has to gauge how you’re doing first before he himself can relax.

Never to the point of upsetting you, though. He’ll stop if it’s too much, he always does. He mothers you, makes you healthy meals to eat since he knows the others will be sneaking you junk, and you’re already dreading the spinach smoothie he’s probably going to set in front of you the moment you’re out of bed.

Akaashi will probably make a dessert for you. He knows you like to have brownies or cake with your ice cream, and he likes that you can lay on the couch cuddling with Kuroo or Kei while he bakes so he can still talk to you, so he can still see you. Your aftercare days are as much for Akaashi as they are for you, just a little more than the others.

It’s the one day where he’ll really allow himself to spoil you, to dote on you without worrying about being “too much.”

Kei will need to be on you at nearly all times, or at least touching some part of you. In a way, he and Akaashi are similar in the sense that they both feel they need an excuse to be “overly” affectionate, even if in different ways. ‘Kaashi is just nervous about being overbearing, always wary of crossing some unseen line or imaginary boundary that he’s imposed upon himself. Kei, however, just hasn’t gotten to a point yet where he can be openly vulnerable, not easily.

Having a day for aftercare, or even just a rest day, is the perfect excuse for him to be unabashedly affectionate. He’ll drag you down to the couch and wrap himself around you, long limbs tucked around your body with his face buried in your neck, all under the guise of comforting you as though he doesn’t need it just as much.

And then Bokuto will come home, sweaty from sprinting directly from the gym because waiting for a bus would take too long. He’ll drop his things in a trail from the front door to wherever you are, apologies on his lips for the complaining he knows he’s going to hear from the others, but then his hands will be on you and he’ll kiss you silly. Bo probably won’t let you go for the rest of the night, forced to share you with Kei who is just as stubborn when push comes to shove. Bokuto hates being away on these kinds of days, he’s only missed one other and it was just as miserable for him then as it will be tomorrow.

Like he knows, even in his sleep, that you’re thinking of him, Bo pulls you a little closer. He snuggles into you with a soft, sleepy breath that spills across your lips, leaves you feeling warm and dewy inside at how he responds to you even when dreaming. You kiss him once, gently, then tuck your face beneath his chin, close to where Kei is curled up. His head tilts, a silent request, and you kiss him too.

Sleep comes quickly, easily after everything you’ve been through. You’re tucked in on all sides with an overwhelming amount of body heat that is barely kept at bay by the AC. Exhausted, sore, your arms still abuzz with the remnants of your three-edible excursion, and you drift off content with the knowledge that this is likely going to be the best night of sleep you’ve ever had.

#read the warnings #THIS IS SO GOOD??#OH MY GOD #holding this gently in my hands #KUROO THE EXECUTIONER #i love Them #full of so many feelings (and men apparently)

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sugamii · 1 year

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TOUCH - 18+ MDNI

▸ warnings: handjobs, blowjobs, unprotected sex, pussy eating, squirting. ▸ RATED: 18+ MDNI

I would really love to write one about Dabi as well. I’m not sure though AHHHHHH.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated if you enjoyed.

touchstarved!Tomura who melts instantly under your touch whenever your fingers and lips brush against his skin.

touchstarved!Tomura who’s astonished and doesn’t know how to react whenever you compliment his features; for example that time you called his eyes “bloody red gems” as you where giving him a handjob. He swear he came on the spot at your compliment.

touchstarved!Tomura whose bloody red gems shine in the dark dim light of his room whenever you invite him to jerk himself off as you start removing your clothes.

touchstarved!Tomura that hates whenever he has to jerk off by himself because you told him, but he secretly loves it because he knows you get off by watching him touching himself and because…he’d do anything for you.

touchstarved!Tomura who begs you to let him cum and loses his mind whenever you tease him by saying “You really want to cum that badly, boss?” and goes insane whenever you call him like that, because in the bedroom roles are inverted. You are the boss.

touchstarved!Tomura who begs like a broken man and whines for your touch. And as soon as your hand replaces his own and starts jerking him off, he lets out a raspy moan.

touchstarved!Tomura who’s weak for you, for your touch. He wants to show you how badly he craves you but can’t form a proper sentence the moment your lips start giving kisses to his cock.

touchstarved!Tomura who hisses through his teeth when you start bobbing your head up and down his length. The sweet moans you make while sucking him off are enough to turn his brain into mush.

touchstarved!Tomura who incoherently starts moving his hips so that he can touch the back of your throat with his cock.

touchstarved!Tomura who lets out a high pitched whine as you start massaging his sensitive balls to make him orgasm.

touchstarved!Tomura whose brain games over once he can’t resist anymore and he cums down your pretty throat. Bonus points if some of his seed spills from your mouth because he loves filling you up to the brim.

touchstarved!Tomura who had enough of your teasing and decides to act like the boss he is, taking after his role. “Enough playing like a big girl, it’s my turn to make you fall apart under me.”

touchstarved!Tomura who drags your body on the sheets and grabs firmly your legs to place them over his shoulders, looking at you with a smug grin.

touchstarved!Tomura who starts eating out your pussy like a starved man's last meal, he doesn't pay attention or better, he doesn't care about his extremely loud slurping noises as he buries his face in your wet cunt.

touchstarved!Tomura who chuckles darkly at your moans and begs to keep going, feeling how good he's making you feel with his tongue as your juices drip down his chin.

touchstarved!Tomura who loses it once and for all as you grab onto his hair saying "Please boss, I need more. Need your cock deep inside of my pussy..."

touchstarved!Tomura who can't contain himself anymore and doesn't think twice about rolling you over with your ass up so that he can slip his dick leaking with precum into your already messy folds.

touchstarved!Tomura who let's out a deep growl as he buries his cock deep into your needy cunt, watching as you grab firmly onto the sheets as if you want to tear them apart from the pleasure.

touchstarved!Tomura who begins fucking you senseless into the mattress, gripping your hips and slamming his cock in your sliky folds.

touchstarved!Tomura who wants to ruin you and fuck you until you're both whimpering messes.

touchstarved!Tomura whose dick starts twitching as soon as he feels your pussy clenching on his dick, signalling that you're going to orgasm soon.

touchstarved!Tomura who lies on you, trapping you completely while kissing on your bare skin, touching you in the deepest part of your core.

touchstarved!Tomura who starts being a whiny mess with you while he feels your cunt creaming on his cock.

touchstarved!Tomura who chokes you a tiny bit from behind, forcing sweetly your head into the mattress.

touchstarved!Tomura who spills all of his seed deep inside of your needy pussy once you start gushing all over his cock. "Fuck, that’s so hot. I'm gonna fill you up so well!!"

touchstarved!Tomura who removes himself from you and rolls you on your back to check up on you, softly kissing all the way up to your tummy, biting gently on your nipples and finally enterlacing his lips with yours.

touchstarved!Tomura who can't get enough of you and your touch as you rest your head on his chest while you play with his hair.

touchstarved!Tomura who loves you unconditionally, you're his comfort person, his person and he'd do anything for you.

touchstarved!Tomura who loves feeling your fingers on his skin, the soft touches you give him makes him melt and feel loved.

touchstarved!Tomura whose eyes almost bawls out when you praise him and compliment him. You make him feel pretty and appreciated.

touchstarved!Tomura who's madly in love with you and uses any excuse to have you sitting on his lap or having his head resting on your chest.

touchstarved!Tomura the villain, the boss who can't help but crave your touch and your whole existence and who wants to spend the rest of his life with you, with your healing touch.

➥ tags: @shadowsandshapes , @mossy-opal , @kelin-is-writing

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sugamii · 1 year

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TO BUILD A HOME ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

synopsis: todoroki shouto is the ideal roommate. he is tidy, quiet, considerate, and one of your dearest friends. you almost wished he were a tactless slob. it would certainly make navigating your feelings for him easier.

tags: GN reader, friends to lovers, pro hero shouto, quirk support engineer reader, living together (and they were roommates!), mutual pining, fluff, alcohol, other character interactions, domesticity, jealous shouto, a little angst, minor oc, love confessions, making out + frottage

wc: 14K+

Shouto’s home strikes a dissonant note with you.

You’re a statuesque centrepiece in his living room, staring out his tall standing windows, paneled wall to wall and making for a beautiful view of the city. There’s a soft shine to it, iridescent from corner to corner. A privacy film to block any view into the apartment from the outside, you’re guessing.

Despite your closeness you’ve never had reason to visit until now. There’s far too much space for one man, you think. Jarringly, it’s as if you’ve stepped into a studio display. A picture perfect bachelor pad— but really, what bachelor pad needed three family sized bedrooms?

It feels awfully lonely.

Shouto heaves the last of your boxes onto the kitchen island with ease. The muscles in his arms flex under his loose shirt, fabric briefly tightening. Unfair, you think. He hasn’t even broken a sweat.

Back straightening, you watch Shouto roll back his shoulder and rub at the joint. The movement causes the hem to lift and flash a pale swath of skin, his shorts hung low on his hips. The weight in your arms is somehow heavier with his eyes turned onto you.

“You can set it down,” he says, his tone full of warm mirth. The disbelief must be written plain on your face. Your fingers tighten on the corners as he walks over. Tilting his head, the red strands that have been haphazardly pushed back into white slip over his forehead. You watch his gaze dart over the label scribbled onto the card that reads ‘toiletries’.

“I know. I’m just…” your jaw shifts and you swallow, a frown etched into your brow. “I don’t know. Got a little lost in my thoughts”.

“Feel free to change whatever you like,” his mouth curls into a small smile, scar wrinkling by his eye. You are taken by just how happy he looks to have you here. Shouto seemed the type to appreciate his own space. “I want you to be comfortable”.

“Whatever I like?” you echo teasingly, shucking the box up in your embrace and bumping his shoulder. “Famous last words. Maybe I’ll decide to renovate your other guest room into a mini workshop”.

Shouto exhales a quiet laugh. The air around him is displaced by an ephemeral wave of heat that seeps through your sweater; it cools back to room temperature as quick as it came.

“I wouldn’t oppose it,” he says, and your breath catches. Reaching to poke at the box, he adds, “Do you want me to help you unpack?”

You begin to shake your head. “No, no. I can do all that, don’t worry,” you demurred nervously.

“It wouldn’t be a problem”.

Memories of all the things you managed to salvage in the wreck flicker across your mind's eye. Mugs and plates, a few clothes, oil stained tools and various other inappropriate things you’d rather die than have him accidentally discover.

But he’s staring at you like a restless puppy. You relent, “Maybe you can put away the kitchen stuff then”.

After Shouto retreats you are left adrift to navigate the narrow corridors. The room he directs you to has the biggest guest bed and it shares a wall with his own room. You shuffle in, processing your surroundings. Your linens are freshly washed, tucked in tight at the corners, and they smell like him.

You lower another box on top of the bed and sit by the headboard. The mattress yields. Admittedly it is much more comfortable than your old bed used to be. Soft, you sink into a foamy embrace, smoothing a hand over the matching pillowcases, then reaching up to the shared accent wall.

Reality has hardly set in for you yet. It’s been four days since you lost your home, most of your earthly possessions along with it, and the life you had spent years building. The villain that managed to frisbee a car through your living room had been apprehended but not before destroying half the city block.

Shouto immediately volunteered his own place. You have been close friends for years now, having met during your second year at UA as a support course student. You’d worked with Yaomomo on redesigning her costume for your portfolio and managed to worm your way into their quaint friend group.

Your initial crush on him all that time ago burgeoned into something you’re too anxious to put a name to. When he first suggested you live with him while the city fixed everything you’d wanted to refuse. So far lack of proximity has been your only saving grace.

But you really had nowhere else suitable to stay. A hotel would be too costly in the long run. Your other friends are scattered across different prefectures and those who are in the city are too far from work.

Shouto practically sparkled when you agreed, plucked right out of a shoujo manga.

You remember this as your fingers curled into a loose fist and gave the wall a quiet knock. All the tension accumulated in your shoulders relaxes at the dull sound. “Atleast it isn’t thin,” you mused.

There’s a large closet adjacent to the bed, deep enough that you could crawl inside comfortably. Windows that stretch above your head and overlook the busy streets. You notice that same iridescent sheen, alongside a large blind connected to the control pad fixed by your doorway. They roll down as you fiddle and remind you of those old school projectors from the pre quirk era.

The walls are almost entirely bare. Your imagination drifts to the countless books and photo albums you managed to bring, envisioning them taking up the empty space. It makes you wonder what Shouto’s room looks like. You squash that thought.

When you rejoin him he stands with his back to you, blades shifting under the material as he plays with a small round object held between his fingers. Closing the distance you realise it is one of your stress balls.

His expression is entirely relaxed, bright with a little child-like satisfaction. He pulls at the flexible rubber, rolling it under his thumbs, flattening in between his palms. Your novelty mugs are lined up in the open cupboard right beside his own, entirely forgotten.

As not to startle him you call out gently, “Hey”.

Your voice stalls his movement. Shouto pivots and meets your eyes; they widen as you laugh, amused by his forced nonchalance. He clears his throat, “Hi. Are you happy with the room?”

Humming an affirmative, you sidle up next to him and poke at the ball. “It’s fine, thank you. Nicer than my old place”.

Redirecting his attention to the ball, he squeezes it so hard the foamy rubber protrudes through the gaps in his fingers and lets go, smiling as it retains its original shape. “I liked your old apartment,” he murmurs. “It suited you”.

“Because I’m a mess, you mean?” drawn back into Shouto’s orbit, you lean against his left side. He mirrors your weight until you are like two pillars braced against one another, standing uselessly in the middle of his obviously unused kitchen. Your heart aches recalling all those nights he spent at the agency doing unnecessary overtime. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to come back here.

“No,” Shouto huffs lightly, passing the ball hand to hand. He doesn’t elaborate. Instead he bumps you with his hip, “Come with me. I’ll give you a tour so you know where everything is”.

You are guided back to the genkan; it’s gorgeous, modernised with a calligraphy feature wall that breaks up the light colours. There is a narrow door leading to a coat room and two white cabinets under a granite countertop housing a small decorative bowl painted in Deku’s colours. Inside are your keys and his, the chains entangled.

Very quickly you realise Shouto doesn’t even know where ‘everything’ is. He opens the cupboard doors hesitantly, in a way that suggests he had no idea what is in them. One filled by his shoes and slippers, the other left empty.

The coat closet holds a few jackets you only ever see him wear in winter. He pinches the waterproof puffy sleeve between finger and thumb with a curious sound. Quietly, “I forgot that I had this”.

“You wore it once and Bakugo said you looked like an ugly toasted marshmallow”.

“That’s right,” a smirk pulls at his lips, mouth thin to restrain his laughter. You dip your chin to hide how infectious it is. “He hated it. Maybe I should take it with me tomorrow and wear it around the agency”.

“Please don’t. He’s coming to see me later in the day and I need him in a good mood”.

Shouto glances at you from the corner of his eye, sunlight reflecting through the blue iris. You would recognise that air of mischief anywhere. “I mean it, Shouto!”

“The day after, then”.

“As long as I’m not in the line of fire,” you snort, itching absentmindedly at your forearm where the skin feels tender. Probably bruising after carrying everything up. “Antagonising Pro Heroes should be listed as a hobby on your wiki page”.

You fall in line with his footsteps once more and keep pace until he stops by another door. There’s a laundry room and a separate toilet by the genkan, first door to the right. Upon opening the door the white toilet lid lifts.

You gasp and clutch his bicep, far too excitable to register how firm it is. “You never told me you have a happy toilet. What the hell, Shouto?”

Still nestled in his palm, you notice Shouto squeezes the stress ball until the foam is straining under the stretchy skin but you say nothing of it. He swallows and echoes your words, “A happy toilet?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it's happy to see you! Isn’t it cute?”

He turns with his cheek between his teeth, exhaling a warm puff of air through his nose. “Yeah,” Shouto rasps. “It’s cute”.

The entrance leads to a hallway, opening at the end to an open plan living area and kitchen. A black and white palette, dark stained wood flooring from room to room. You stand by and watch fondly as he opens every half empty drawer. The sectional couch is a welcome splash of colour— deep royal blue, huge, L shaped and plush, facing a 60 inch TV held up by a cabinet with a few books and photographs inside.

You toe at the fluffy grey rug laid out under the coffee table. His place is spectacular, sure, but it isn’t Shouto. While left unspoken it seemed you both knew that. There’s an abashed pinch to his expression that’s endearing, yet sad; you thought he might be embarrassed by how threadbare his home life appeared to be.

“You ever use that thing?” you ask, pointing to the TV. Predictably, Shouto shakes his head.

“Not very much. These days it feels like I only come here to sleep,” he leans over to pick up the remote from between the cushions and balances it on the arm of the couch. “Every few months Uraraka and Midoriya will visit to order food and watch movies with me. You can use it whenever you want”.

The bathroom is opposite your bedroom doors. He taps his own in passing but does not open it. You step into a bright, white tiled room with a double vanity sink and murmur in awe. Above are ceiling lights that give a soft glow, giving it a warm toned hue. Behind a glass door is a bowl shaped bathtub, big enough to fit two.

“Damn…” you whisper, running your fingers over the control pad connected to the tub. There’s a big bath cover propped by the wall. “A sauna button, too?”

“Not that I need it,” he muses, standing by the doorway, hands loosely interlocked as he observes you navigating his space. Intuitively, you get the sense that this is the beginning of a true paradigm shift. His offer had been the fork in the road and your agreement took you down a path soon to be irreversible.

You could survive seeing him at work or out with the mutual friends you shared. You’re not sure how you’ll weather the domesticity that comes with living together.

The reflection in the mirror shifts awkwardly and you grimace at how hard you’re trying to act like a normal human being. This is just Shouto: your good friend and longtime supporter. Just the man you might possibly be in love with.

“We should probably talk about ground rules and stuff,” you begin, hoping it’ll wipe that gentle look off his face before you say something stupid.

“Ground rules?” Shouto pushes off from the door frame with his back straight. He tilts his head, sight following you closely as you scoot past him back into the hallway.

“Like a chore rota and stuff. Rules so we can live in harmony or something. And you still need to let me know how much I’m paying you”.

“But I don’t want you to”.

You pause mid step and turn to stare at him in soft incredulity. “Why not? It’s only right I contribute”.

Steadfast, he holds your gaze and bluntly says, “I have a higher income than you. There’s no need for you to pay me rent”.

“Way to rub it in”.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you laugh at the rare wobble to his voice and knock your hands together as a sign of forgiveness. His eyes squint into a smile. “It just feels unfair for me to ask that of you”.

The hallway falls dim as clouds gather, casting shadows that make the private bubble you’re in seem that much smaller. “But I want to,” you reassured him. “Come on— forty percent?”

“Thirty”.

You hold out three fingers up on the right and five on the left. You try again, “Thirty five?”

“Thirty,” he doubles down, covering the entirety of your left hand with his own. You feel his thumb skim your inner wrist and your resolve breaks.

“…Fine”.

Shouto grins boyishly and you do not acknowledge the flutter in your stomach.

The first few days are cautious despite your desire to behave as normal. At night you found yourself acutely aware of Shouto’s presence behind the bedroom wall. Your senses latched onto every muted bump and creak; the quiet drew thoughts you so valiantly avoided the surface and you could do nothing besides parse through them.

It made sleeping difficult.

You’d wondered if Shouto was having the same issue but the drowsy gait and hair plastered to one side of his head only ever spoke of a good night's rest. He wears loose silk pyjama pants to bed, low on his hips and an inch or so longer at the leg so they always caught under his heel as he walked.

Seeing him relaxed and fumbling like a fawn before his morning tea felt as if a big star was fizzing in your chest. It’s strange, in a tentative way, not an uncomfortable one.

The dust settles and a chore rota is scribbled out on a white board and pinned to the refrigerator with a worn All Might magnet. Your hours are less hectic so you offered to do the weekly shopping. Shouto volunteers for the laundry— his sister set the machines up for him when he first moved and he hasn’t moved the dials since— and taking out the garbage. Together you build a precariously clumsy peace, a mimicry of home.

Things started to change.

A kaleidoscope can take on an entirely new pattern with just the subtle turn of the lense. Weeks lapse. You stopped asking for permission and he no longer sought reassurance that you were happy. Existing parallel to one another, your lives fit seamlessly, though not without effort.

You’ve never known him to be a tactile type of guy— back when you rushed to hug him at graduation he’d brandished his diploma like a weapon before noticing it was you. Now, Shouto playfully hip checks you in the kitchen, he sits closer than he needs to on the couch and texts you at random throughout the day. He brings you a treat if his route overlaps your commute, keeping it hot in his left hand. He even greets you by the door on the rare occasion he finishes a shift first.

Your heart is fatter than ever and you aren’t quite sure what to do with it or where to put it down. After the city has rebuilt your apartment block and deemed it safe you’ll be returning to a normal you don’t recognise anymore.

You’re finalising the upgrade for Dynamite’s summer gauntlets when your phone buzzes on your bench. The vibration carries it closer to the edge and you scoop it up before the inevitable fall, cursing at the oil smeared around the case. The screen lights up.

shouto : 1 minute ago

There’s an image attached with no explanation. You are met with the open skyline, dense clouds of every shape and size dotted across a blue canvas. Shouto’s arm is in the shot, finger pointed towards one cloud in particular.

You squint at it. Zoom in on your phone, tilt it to the side, flip it in the editor and outline it— and nothing rings a bell. It’s a white blob.

Another notification drops down at the top of your screen. You wipe your hand against your overalls and open it.

shouto : just now

ヾ(=^・ｪ・^)

Your nose wrinkles as you glance back to the photo. Granted, it does have two pointed edges that could be interpreted as cat ears if you squinted. Maybe. This isn’t new — he burned his toast three days ago and took a picture simply because it looked vaguely feline.

you : delivered

aren’t u supposed to be on patrol?

The message turns to ‘read’ quicker than expected. You panic and click off the conversation, setting the phone face up on your workbench and reading from your locked screen. Lately, despite living together and seeing one another every day, Shouto seems to have more to say to you than ever.

shouto : just now

Divine intervention. We should get a cat.

The use of ‘we’ pings around your head like a pinball. Ever since the initial dubitation smoothed out he's become much more flippant about things— treating your situation as though it were permanent.

An intern shuffles into the workshop with a thick binder. Not one of yours, you realise. One of Mei’s. They blink curiously as your phone buzzes again, loud where it clatters on the hard surface, and you bite down on your inner cheek, hard, keeping your feelings at bay.

When handed the papers you breathe in recognition. They’ve been coordinated into two groups, and you’d know that logo anywhere. “The costume applications for the upcoming UA students! I wondered why they hadn’t come in yet”.

“Yes, for 1A and 1B. Hatsume-san said these ended up on her desk,” they said, gesticulating nervously, “and that I— I should give them to you?”

“Well If not for you I’m sure these would’ve ended up buried under all her discarded prototypes,” you demurred, offering what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Thank you”.

Abruptly, your phone gives another violent jerk and disrupts the moment. The intern squeaks, rigidity returning to her posture, and scurries out with a rushed goodbye. You sink into your arms, forehead pressed to the cool metal. Surely you aren’t that scary.

Turning the screen, you read the texts and sigh fondly.

shouto : 4 minutes ago

An older cat would be nice.

shouto : just now

Should we order tonight?

My treat.

Your gaze lifts to find the time at the top of the screen. It blinks back at you, the hour changing. Not long until you can head out.

you : delivered

it isn’t a treat for me if it’s more cold soba. give me variety or give me death (งಠ_ಠ)ง

The cursor flickers. Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, hesitating on the final letter. Something so minor that feels bigger than it has any right to be.

“Stop being ridiculous,” you mutter, sending it before your mind can change.

you : read

be safe ok? I’ll see you at home.

When he doesn’t reply you figure he’s returned to his job, thus you return to yours.

Dynamite was once again trusting you with his gear. Bakugo had been extraordinarily protective over his initial design in highschool. Great bulbous things strapped to each wrist, grenade-like appearance, so big that his arms became pendulous and swung away from his body as he walked. The shoulder strain was immense.

You fought tooth and nail to get him to accept your adjustments. Now every summer you remodelled the gauntlets to be lighter and ventilated, and in winter you added in insulation and flexibility.

Respectively, the gauntlets still weigh a lot without additional stored nitroglycerin. You lift, bending at the knees and groaning as you lower them both down into a protective case, slotting into foam padding for protection. No doubt they’d end up rough on the first day but you still wanted them to arrive without a scratch.

Evening draws near. Closing the lid, it gives a satisfying click. You fiddle with the lock pad and calibrate it to open only for Bakugo’s thumb print before lugging the case to the built-in vault in your workshop, where it’ll be kept over the weekend.

Mei’s lab is directly opposite your own. Despite the dense soundproofing and reinforced steel concrete the jarring screech of a saw echoes throughout the hallway. You press your hand to the towering door, muscle fibres wracked by vibrations. Bidding her goodbye would be futile— she’s been working on a new patent for months now. The rest of the world fell away when she got like this.

Heading through to the main lobby, you greet those passing by with a nod, exchanging hurried words. It was always as though time didn’t exist here. People worked all hours, any hours. Flexibility was a point of pride for your company, and seeing someone eat breakfast after midnight wasn’t uncommon.

You preferred a regular schedule. Routine keeps you moderately sane. A cool breeze gusts through the sliding doors as you duck into the street; you hiss at the immediate change in temperature. Patting down your coat pockets you dig out your phone, sending a one-handed text to Shouto while you slip in your earbuds.

Cacophonous bustling of the streets now muffled, you scroll through a playlist and click at random. An upbeat melody carries you to the station, scooting through the throngs of people and tapping your card at the barriers.

You pick up the pace, scurrying onto the train right before the doors close. A stranger glares, looking over your dishevelled state with judgement. You find a narrow corner, left standing on the far end of the carriage, squashed up against the window to make room for other passengers.

Conscious about the volume. you turned down your music a tad and sank into the confines of your coat. Shouto’s apartment is miraculously closer than your old one, meaning the commute is much shorter, and your time spent in bed is much longer. Three stops pass and the sky begins to bruise. Purple hues blend gently into red, the sun a fiery hearth on the seam of the horizon that blinks abruptly between the passing buildings.

When you reach home Shouto still hasn’t texted back. You bend to arrange your shoes, coat hung beside his terrible winter puffer. The floor is cold under socked feet, pottering through to the living room in search of the TV remote.

You flinch as the newscaster's voice blurts out of the speakers. Shouto must have left it on the news channel this morning. Watching the scene unfold on the screen you feel your heart climb your throat.

Shouto is a hero— a number of your friends are. Villain fights are not only inevitable, they’re a requirement. The truth of it doesn’t make reality any easier to swallow. Uravity is a welcome sight. She’s fighting diligently alongside Shouto, up against multiple villains seemingly working in tandem to destroy the area.

You always thought villains were a good example of how versatile and powerful even the most innocuous quirks can be. Topspin can morph their limbs into a whirling top, and with years of training has gained the ability to form small tornados using momentum. Another you recognise is Cryo, a woman capable of making her body intangible similarly to Lemillion— though she is able to freeze you temporarily if she phases through your body.

There are others, too. Criminals you don’t recognise. It’s been a long time since a big group tried to organise in this manner. You worry at your lip, bracing against the back of the couch for support. What you find most concerning is they don’t seem to have a goal. Just mass destruction, plain and simple.

“Come on,” you think anxiously, nails digging into the cushion as you watch Shouto brace a falling building with his ice, creating an emergency slide for those left inside to escape. You’ve always marvelled at his parallel processing skills— Deku, too. Their thoughts must be running a million miles a second.

The cameras switch to highlight the other heroes and you realise you’ve been holding your breath. You exhale, physically deflating, feeling the weight of your phone in your pants pocket. Clean up would take a while once the battle is won; curry night is off the table.

That’s fine. You could forgive it as long as he came back in one piece.

Evening sinks into night. Shouto comes home after you’ve retired to your bed, though you aren’t asleep yet; you took to staring at the ceiling, waiting for a call from the hospital that you hoped wouldn’t come.

The distant sound of his boots hitting the floor has relief flooding through your system. You strain to listen as he makes his way through the apartment, deliberately quiet. You hear him head straight to the bathroom. The echo of running water muffles after the door closes with a soft click.

You check your phone once more, scanning over the recent updates and not finding much. You consider leaving him alone. Villain fights are hard on the body and the heart. Shouto likes space to process things before he speaks on them, and so you don't want to overstep.

That sentiment dissipates steadily. Five minute intervals that feel like hours. Shouto is in the bathroom for a long, long time. You are seated on the edge of your bed with the covers pulled back when he finally comes out.

Warm light streams beneath your doorway. Muscles clenched, you daren’t move an inch as a stretch of shadow moves across. Shouto stands outside your room and you stare, silently urging him to knock and give you an excuse.

After a beat, Shouto turns away. He flicks off the bathroom light and shuffles down the hallway, away from his own bedroom. Your feet tentatively touch the floor and you slide off the bed with hands held out, careful not to knock into any furniture on the way.

Goose pimples raise across your forearms. You’re in sleep shorts and a ratty old shirt on a cool spring night. No wind and no clouds, the moon hung high and bright. You have never seen the city so eerily still at this hour.

The air always retains the warmth of his body for a while, and you feel it lingering when you step into the hallway.

Voice kept to a whisper, you softly called for him, “Shouto?”

You find him sitting in the middle of the couch. The blinds are up, moonlight flooding in. Shouto is a solid silhouette outlined in white.

“Did something happen?”

The fight ended up dragging on for a while, so you’re in the dark. Details about casualties were steadily being released to news outlets as the heroes dug through the remaining rubble. You’ve yet to hear of any deaths, civilian or otherwise, which is a relief.

He lifts his head, “I’m fine. Sorry if I woke you”.

“You didn’t,” Shouto’s gaze follows as you shuffle towards him, footfalls loud on the hardwood floor. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

The silence is suffocating. Your vision adjusts to the darkness, stuck on the downturn of his mouth and pallid eyes. “We’re friends right? Friends share their burdens,” you try again, awkwardness leaking out with every syllable. “I’m here for you”.

He looks away. There’s a dark, disquieting bruise blooming on his jaw. Subconsciously, Shouto presses a finger onto the bruise and the blood beneath it recedes, paling and returning like the tide.

You don’t sit too close— worried proximity might be suffocating. The couch arm is firm under you, feet propped on the seat cushion. Shouto wets his lips, as if to alleviate the gravity of his words.

“A group of school children were in the theatre when it collapsed,” he rasps. His hand curls into a tight fist, sparks of fire diminishing between his knuckles. “They were young. No older than ten”.

“You blame yourself”.

Turning to you, light casts softly across half of his face, pooling in his left eye. “I was a second too late and now—” he stops, the words caught in his throat.

“Because of my mistakes those children are stuck with the traumatic memory of being trapped under all that rubble. I... I could hear them screaming”.

You gulp and slide down onto the couch, guided by the urge to touch him, “Hey. But you got them out safely, yeah? They’re okay, Shouto”.

His eyes crinkle a bit, if only a trick of your own, and you take it as permission to reach over. One by one you unfurl each finger, massaging your thumbs into his palm to smooth away the crescent marks.

“We got them out,” he amends quietly, taking a brief pause to find the right words. You spend it appreciating the nicks in his skin, scars and rough edges, proof of his tenacity.

Shouto closes his hand around your own, staring dolefully at the point where your bodies meet. You see it for what it is— a request for comfort — and your palms kiss as you realign your fingers, holding on tight.

“You know what I think?”

He hums, curiously peering up through his damp bangs.

“Those kids? They won’t just remember the bad stuff,” you smile, as tender as you feel, “I think they’ll remember how at ease they felt when Hero Shouto opened the way with his ice to save them. And now they know a hero will always come”.

The strain bleeds from his bones and his expression opens up in quiet wonderment. “Really?” he asks, his voice small, mouth finally curling. Your heart gives a squeeze.

“Really,” you affirm, knocking your knees together. Shouto’s smile widens, chin tucking to hide it. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No. Just bruised up,” he says. An idea clicks into place.

“Good. I’ve got something we can do to make you feel better,” you scramble to your feet, weight shifting as Shouto’s stare lingers on your bare legs. It feels as though the moon is casting a spotlight, and you resist the urge to pull your shorts down.

“What is it?”

“Mug cake!” you exclaim happily, bringing your hands together. Adding an afterthought, “and a movie, too. One you haven’t seen yet”.

Shouto tilts his head, amused, but stands with you all the same. You notice then that he's changed into a pair of sweatpants, cuffed at the ankles. The t-shirt he’s wearing has a Pinky logo branded across his chest in bubble font.

“Mug cake?” he repeats.

“Cake in a mug,” you ribbed, poking at him. You start toward the kitchen. “Come on, it’ll only take like five minutes, tops!”

“Do we have cake ingredients?” he muses, following close behind. You flick on the recessed light over the stove and root through the cupboards, trying to ignore the natural warmth of his body beside yours.

“We have everything,” you insist. “I would know. I do the shopping, remember?”

Hovering unnecessarily close by, Shouto leans back against the counter and observes you with fondness as you list off the ingredients under your breath. It shouldn’t be so magnetising— you can feel something in your chest being drawn in, as though you were two unlike poles meant to come together.

Meeting his gaze, you look away and try to tame your giddiness. “Quit staring and find me two big mugs”.

You breathe a little easier when he does as you ask. Two large ceramic mugs are placed on the counter— a hideously priced vintage All Might mug gifted by Midoriya, another with cat ears on the rim and a tail curled into the handle.

“Will these do?” he murmurs. You startle at the closeness of his voice, nearly dropping the teaspoon in your hand.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “Yep. Thank you”.

He nods, satisfied. “Tell me what else to do”.

You grab another teaspoon and hand it to him. The joy in his eyes gleams, so pleased at the opportunity to help. “First we need to put four teaspoons of flour and caster sugar in our mugs, then add two teaspoons of the cocoa powder. You follow?”

Shouto mirrors each action, always glancing back to your movements to check he was doing so correctly. It is unbearably endearing.

“Now we add an egg in each— one sec,” the fridge light bursts through the dimly lit kitchen, and you squint, grabbing two eggs from the tray. You give him an egg. “Now crack it into the mug and stir”.

You’ve ended up with the All Might mug. Using it is nerve wracking; all you can think of is how expensive it was, but the cat mug is Shouto’s clear favourite. Gently, you tap the egg on the counter. A hairline fracture forms on the shell. You push your thumbs in, prying it apart over the mix, letting the whites drizzle.

Shouto is… faring well enough. There’s clear viscous liquid all over his fingers, and his shell is broken in three, but the yolk made it in.

You laugh quietly at his sheepish expression as you pass him some tissue. He wipes his hands, leaning to observe while you add three teaspoons of milk and vegetable oil. “Where did you learn to make these?”

“During my apprenticeship,” you admit. Graduation hadn’t led to immediate incredible offers like it had for Shouto. You needed to get your foot in the door first, which meant working awful hours with shit pay and little recognition. “I was trying to save up back then, so I ate a lot of crap like this”.

“I’ve never tried it,” he says, repeating the steps as you had shown him. Your fingers brush with a pass of the milk. “I wasn’t allowed treats as a child so I guess I didn’t develop much of a sweet tooth”.

“That’s just like you,” you grin, tearing open the bag of chocolate chips and shaking them in his direction. “Always gotta drop depressing lore in the middle of a nice moment”.

The truth about the Todoroki family had been outed during your first year, right before the war. It’s a subject Shouto can joke about now that time has mostly healed over those wounds. Granted, his relationship with his father was cautious at best, and his older brother was locked away in a private facility for a good few decades, but things were better.

“Did you hear me?”

You blink, startled out of your reverie, “What?”

“I said I have plenty more material but you zoned out,” Shouto raised a brow, dipping into the bag of chocolate chips and sprinkling them over his cake mix, “Where did you go?”

“Ah…” you take his mug and set it beside yours inside the microwave, turning the dial to the two minute mark. “I was just thinking I kinda want to kick your dad’s ass”.

Your heart leaps. You will never be sick of Shouto’s laugh; it’s like hearing his soul. The sound is rich and warm over the loud hum, glass plate turning, mixture bubbling.

“Don’t worry about that,” the laughter tapers off into an affectionate murmur, body naturally leaning into you, “he’s been kicking himself for years now”.

“Good—!” the microwave pings, and your soul jumps out of your skin. “Jesus. Why is it always so much louder at night?”

The mugs are still hot. You press a kiss to your stinging fingertips and step aside; Shouto takes each cake out one at a time with this left hand wrapped around the mug. “Show off,” you pout.

A sweet aroma fills your senses. They’ve risen well. You lightly scratch the top with your spoon, pleased by the firmness. “We did pretty good,” you chirped.

“Smells good,” Shouto notes, cradling his mugcake to his chest as though something precious. “Are we watching a movie?”

“Yeah. Let’s pick while it’s still hot”.

You cast a fleeting look at the counter before you walk around the kitchen island, putting the minor mess to the back of your mind. Bouncing back onto the couch, you run your free hand down the cushions in search of the remote.

“Where’s the—” Shouto sits to your right and passes it to you. “Did you pull that out of thin air?”

“Yes. I have a third quirk called ‘remembering where I put things’,” he grins, dodging the half hearted swat you send his way.

“You’re a real comedian. Just for that I’m picking what I want to watch”.

Infuriatingly, Shouto looks happy about that, “You know what I’d like anyway”.

In the end you choose Ponyo because he had not yet watched it— a fact you deemed criminal. You watch his expressions soften at the vibrant scenery, idly pushing the tip of his spoon into the cake. He scoops out a piece and brings it to his lips.

You try not to beam when he visibly freezes, eyes widening with his spoon held in his mouth. Slowly, Shouto starts to chew. He makes a happy little hum. Three words crossed your mind, travelled down to your heart and diffused throughout your body. You feel them restless in the tips of your fingers. You don’t say them.

Only then do you let yourself eat yours. The spoon sinks into the sponge, a faint waft of heat bursting from the centre where the chocolate chips have melted. It’s just the right side of fluffy.

Comfortable silence hung over your heads, masked under the clinking of your spoons against the mugs.

After the soft thud of an empty mug meeting the table, breaking through the quiet, Shouto speaks.

“Bakugo mentioned you today,” he says. “Asked me to pass on a message”.

You hum to indicate that you’re listening. “He said ‘hurry the fuck up or kiss my sponsorship goodbye’, verbatim”.

“I’m not sure I like those words coming out of your mouth,” you laugh, shoulders shaking with it. Shouto tips his head back, lips twisted to hold laughter of his own. “What a bullshitter”.

Bakugo liked working with you too much to pull out. Even if he didn’t, the man was a hard nut to crack and refused to trust anyone else with his gear.

“Are you almost done? Working on his gauntlets, I mean”.

“They’re finished,” you responded, cheek resting on the heel of your hand. Shouto repositions his hips, turning his body to face you in your periphery while you watch Sousuke and Ponyo eat ramen. “Good and ready for the summer. Now he won’t level half the city when he sneezes”.

“Thank you for your hard work,” comes his mirthful reply. “Oh, and Uraraka says hello. She wants you to go to the get together tomorrow night”.

“You know I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, right?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose. A soft sound that has satisfaction singing through your veins. “I wasn’t planning on going so I forgot to mention it”.

You run your tongue along your molars. There’s still a lingering chocolate taste. “You aren’t going to go?” you ask, tone trended downwards, plainly implying your disappointment. It wouldn’t be so odd. While you’d befriended Momo and some of class B before ever meeting Shouto, you’re not sure you want to be there without him.

“I will go if you do,” he eyes the way your shoulders relax at that, attentive to a fault. “They can pick on you instead of me”.

You roll your eyes with exasperated affection and arms crossed over your middle. “Tomorrow?” mhm. “Is it at that place Denki likes?” mhm. “Thought it might be. Guess I can be your buffer for a few hours”.

“I’ll let them know,” Shouto murmurs. Colour dances across his skin, shadows moving with the picture on the screen. Ponyo dunks her head into the depths alongside Sosuke and the room is suddenly awash with vibrant blue, and you witness an unwelcome epiphany cross his mind.

Stated like a huffy accusation, he says, “You know, you’ve worked on most of my friends gear, but never mine”.

“You never asked,” you reminded him. “And you had connections in my industry already because of your… Endeavor. But I would’a jumped at the chance to get rid of that first costume you designed”.

Cheek pressed to the cushion, he smiles. “What, was the glacier too much?”

“It was so ugly Shouto,” you bemoan, leaning closer with your dramatic outburst. “The worst part was it covered up half of your pretty face. Now that’s just bad for branding”.

A soft intake of breath. Shouto’s lips part and you are caught in his awestruck stare. His voice deepens as he asks, “You think I’m… pretty?”

You swallow and muster up an easy grin, nudging his thigh with your foot. “Everyone thinks you’re pretty, you goof”.

His eyes lower, pensive for a moment, and then flicker back to the movie. Ponyo is sleepy, and the boat has shrunk, and Sousuke has big tears rolling down his cheeks.

You can’t help thinking it was the wrong thing to say.

Eventually the noise settles into static; the kind that makes the shadows seem a little darker, dense branches spreading across the ceilings and walls into a daunting canopy. You burrow into your hoodie, pulling the collar up over the bridge of your nose as Sosuke and Ponyo are reunited with his mother in a vast underwater paradise.

The earlier exchange weighs on you. Stealing a quick glance at Shouto, you feel your anxiety chip at the expression on his face. Somewhere there, beneath the scar tissue and laughter lines and eye bags, is a small boy watching in awe.

Neither of you speak until the film comes to an end. Your head bobs along to the final song, drawn into a bubble of nostalgia. Through the thick of it, you hear a whisper. Shouto says your name and there’s barely any strength behind it, uncharacteristically timid. Blinking away the haze, your eyes adjust. You can see an inviting, wide open embrace, his left arm now outstretched, the intention clear.

Shouto looks right back. Your vision has sharpened enough to make out the small smile on his face. You crawl across the couch cushions and curl under his arm, turning your cheek to watch the credits play out.

“You looked cold,” he belatedly adds. “Is this ok?”

You hum in agreement. Compared to his body heat, you’d say it had been freezing. Despite all the hard earned muscle over the years Shouto is pliable when he’s relaxed, doughy, and he yields when you begin to adjust your shared position.

Swallowed by warmth, you guide his arm down to cinch around your waist and nestle against his chest. You can feel his heart beating like a wing beneath your palm.

“Better?” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. A final shiver dances the length of your spine as the faint tremors dwindle and your bones thaw. Fatigue creeps up, making your eyelids heavy.

Quietly, “Better”. Then you mumble, “And I do think you’re pretty, Shouto”.

“Hm?”

“Was bein’ a bit of a coward earlier,” you continue, a sleepy drawl to your words. A yawn pulls at your jaw, nose flaring with it. You think you could sink right into him, like a hot bath. “Shouto’s pretty… all… all the time…”

Your weary eyes gave in to the rhythmic stroke of his hand, consciousness drifting away. Soft dreams undulate, drawing you in, pushing you out. There’s a familiar face. They turn into your palms when you cradle them. Your stomach clenches at the sudden weightlessness and you grasp at their shirt, worried you might float away.

When you wake up you are in your own bed again. It returns to you in fragments— Shouto’s arms around you, his rumbling laugh, the tangible intimacy that had hung over your heads. Realising he must have carried you to bed you turn over to groan into your pillow.

Eventually, what draws you out into the open is the smell. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pad out into the living room, searching for Shouto. Leggings, your mind whispers. He’s milling about the kitchen in his workout clothes; a little pair of shorts overtop and a green hoodie.

“Morning,” he says, placing a small plate onto a tray. You notice two bowls have already been prepared. “I made breakfast”.

The greeting dies in your throat when he looks up. A stream of dewy morning light illuminates the room, reflecting on the pale surfaces, creating an ethereal view. He combs his hair back with his fingers, tucking the longer strands behind his ears. Your gaze strays from the bruise on his jaw— now turning a sickly shade of green— to the food on his tray.

“Wow,” you mumble, feeling hunger twist in your stomach. “This actually looks edible. What’s the occasion?”

It’s a traditional breakfast. A bowl of rice, miso soup with some vegetables, a rolled egg and a plate of grilled fish. Shouto sets a pair of chopsticks down. “No special occasion. I just wanted to cook for you”.

“God. You are so…” you wave your hands at him, too overwhelmed by the sudden flush of tenderness.

He blinks, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “You just gestured to all of me”.

“I just woke up and there’s a prince using my shitty old rice cooker. Forgive me,” you remarked groggily. It feels as if your entire being is a soft spot that he won’t stop prodding at.

Gathering the tray in your grasp you avoid his stare and make way to the dining table, his quiet chuckle close behind. You sit, unnerved by his presence and fighting off dregs of sleep. The seat is cold under your thighs. “Thank you for the food,” you murmur.

Chopsticks tucked in the crook of your thumb and finger, you pick up a rolled omelette. The egg tastes sweeter than expected— mixed with more sugar than required, you think, but it’s good, and you finish in the next bite.

“Are you not leaving for work?”

Shouto hovers across from you; his hands rested on the back of another chair, and stood silently. “How is it?” he deflects.

Your teeth sink into a tofu cube, umami flavours bursting on your tongue. You hum your approval, making a show of it. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Shouto. Really”.

Over the years you’ve come to learn that Shouto reacts to praise in subtle ways, and often smiles without his mouth. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice and see it in his spirited stride. You watch as his shoulders straighten. He’s alight, peacocking his pride, and you’re not sure he realises it.

“There’s a secret ingredient”.

You pause mid chew, swallowing thickly. “If you say love I’m moving out”.

Shouto tempers his amusement with a shake of his head. Stray hair falls forward to frame his cheeks. The chair reclines back on two legs as he leans. “My mother told me that making a meal for someone is a simple way to show gratitude,” he continued. “Thank you for taking care of me last night”.

Heat simmers under your skin, all buzzing energy and jitters. The sincerity is disarming. Had this been a dream you would’ve kissed him.

Shoving another tofu cube in your mouth you chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “Don’t thank me for that,” your initial playfulness softened to reciprocate some of his vulnerability. “I know I’m not a hero but I’ll always be there for you in whatever way I can”.

Whatever his response is, you don’t hear it. Shouto murmurs inaudibly, eyes falling closed with a long exhale. Your only respite is the warmth in his gaze when he looks back at you. “I need to leave now if I don’t want to be late. But I’ll see you tonight?”

You hum an affirmative, nodding around the white rice pinched between your chopsticks. It falls apart gently on your tongue. Covering your mouth, you say, “I’ll be there”.

Shouto steps away with some finality, readjusting the hem of his shirt. The fabric hangs loose around his hips, emphasising how tight his shorts are. You mentally kick yourself.

“I’ll text you, then”.

The day passes frustratingly slowly after Shouto leaves. You technically could be sifting through the new student’s designs, but all you can think about is how charged the atmosphere had been this morning. Retiring back to your room to scream into a pillow or two, you eventually find yourself getting ready.

Shouto let you know he would be going straight from the agency. He had clothes in a locker here— casual, some jeans and a sweater, which at least allayed the fear of being underdressed.

You pull on one of your nicer jackets, holding the lapels close to your chest as you step out into the cold evening. Dark cumuli gather in sparse clumps across the darkening sky; as mercy has it, the wind is pushing them in the opposite direction.

The place isn’t far. You don’t frequent it very often but liked it well enough despite management being a bunch of rich guys playing dive-bar dress up. The low ceilings, vintage mismatched furniture and dim red lights created an intimate atmosphere.

People loved the idea of finding a hole in the wall that nobody else knew about. The catch was everybody knows, but not everybody can get in.

Flashing above the door in green neon lights is a sign grimly reading ‘The Love Shack’. The first thing you notice is the strong woodsy smell masking the faint scent of alcohol. There’s a floral tinge to it that you have trouble pinpointing.

You head inside and greet the bouncer standing by the entrance. He’s a big guy, standing around 6 feet 9, mutton chops swallowing a great deal of his face. Resting on his bald crown are a pair of comically small sunglasses.

Before he can ask for your name it is being hollered across the bar. A few heads turn and you dip your chin to shield from prying eyes. Uraraka is bounding over, Mina hot on her coattails. The pair topple into you with canorous laughter clear over the music.

“You’re here!” Uraraka effused, grabbing at your shoulders and shaking them. “I haven’t seen you in so long! Shouto has been keeping you all to himself”.

Mina slumps against you, echoing Ursraka’s words with a slurred whine. “Holy shit. Are you guys already tipsy?” unsteady on your feet you try to keep them upright.

“No,” Mina tittered, pink lips jutting into a pout. She pokes at your cheek. “You’re just too sober!”

You startle. Another hand, large and hot, splays at the small of your back. The bouncer grunts and encourages you in the direction which they came from. That appears to spur the girls on— you’re dragged to the far end of the bar, a wide booth nestled just around the corner, hidden from view.

You’re met with a chorus of cheers. Kirishima, Jirou and Shinsou beckon you forward. Bakugo is nursing a pint, offering you a wordless nod. Momo shakes her head as Denki attempts to climb out and greet you despite being trapped by the table, patting his back when the effort is fruitless.

“Alright, alright. I missed you too,” you grin, helplessly charmed by your friend's excitement. Uraraka ushers you into the booth. You scoot up beside Momo, the group packed in like sardines to make room.

Mina bends to press a wet kiss to your hairline. It leaves behind a sticky impression of her lips. “Let me go grab you a drink, babe!” she chirps, skipping off toward the bar and immediately draping her upper body over the black countertop to wave the bartender over.

The conversations resume, an easy atmosphere settling over your group. Though you aren’t entirely from their world they do well to involve you, asking for your thoughts, trying to make you laugh. Jirou blushes under the red lights when you bring up her latest album, sending you an appreciative grin. Mina returns holding an impressive amount of drinks, her fingers slipping dangerously on the condensation.

You are one strawberry daiquiri in. There’s a muted yet pleasant buzz under your skin, no doubt aided by the good company. Still, you cast an anxious glance around the room, curious about Shouto’s absence. A soft tap to the knee draws your attention.

Momo turns to whisper in your ear, “Shouto said he’ll be here on the hour,” answering that unspoken question. Your cheeks fill with an indignant breath, embarrassed by your own transparency.

“We aren’t attached at the hip, you know,” you rasp childishly. It’s a lie— you’ve lived with Shouto for only three weeks and you have already forgotten where he ends and you begin. Momo laughs, hiding it behind the back of her hand.

“Could’a had me fooled,” Bakugo interjects, scoffing behind his drink. The glass tips and he drains the last of it. “Your name is all I hear outta his mouth these days. Starting to think he doesn’t know any other words”.

You hold up an accusing finger, “Quit reading our lips, dickhead”.

The other bares his teeth, gums and all. He moves his hands in recognisable patterns at a deliberately slow pace, as if talking down to you. ‘Fuck you’ he signs.

“Oh!” Kirishima claps abruptly. You startle, almost knocking over your drink. He’s so big that it rocked the table. “Check this, Bakugo. I’ve been learning more signs, you gotta tell me if I’m doing ‘em right!”

“Fuck do I look like to you?”

“Like my handsome best bro,” is his smooth reply. Cheeks red as his hair, a cocksure grin flashing his sharp teeth; Bakugo softens, clicking his tongue in feigned annoyance, betrayed by the twitch by the corner of his mouth. You think Kirishima is like an overgrown stray that manipulated Bakugo into being his human.

Whatever he clumsily signs must have been obscene, because Bakugo roars with laughter.

“Who the hell taught you that, shitty hair?”

The hour comes and goes. Rings of water collect under the glasses. Shouto is five minutes late. You displace the group, accepting Uraraka’s loose lipped complaints as she is forced to scoot back out the booth. Pinching the fat of her pink cheek, she’s placated by the promise of another round on you.

“I’ll come with,” Shinsou offered with a lazy wave.

“Thanks,” waiting for him to get to his feet, you smile. You liked Shinsou well enough. Working as an underground hero meant you didn’t get to see him too often.

You approach the bar. The man working behind it has gossamer insectoid wings on his back, sprouting from two long slits in his fitted shirt. They glint in the light, colours refracting iridescent, reminding you somewhat of a church window.

He comes over as he catches your eye, wiping down the sticky surface. You’re honest enough to admit he’s handsome. Rugged with a baby face, hair falling over his forehead in loose curls. There’s an easy air about him, and when he flashes a crooked grin you feel the alcohol a little too thick in your veins.

Tattooed forearms brace against the bar and he leans into your magnetism, “What can I get ya?”

“They’ll have the same as last time,” you reply. “I think the tab should be under Kaminari’s name?”

He nods, eyes skimming over your form, “Won’t be long”.

You turn to find that Shinsou is staring, kissed by a reddish glow. His mouth downturns into a smirk. “I don’t think he even noticed I was here,” he drawls.

Defensiveness prickles over you. “Don’t think anyone has,” you lightly knock your arms together. “You’ve been quiet tonight”.

“Not my scene,” Shinsou sinks forward, propped up by his elbow, and rests his chin in the cradle of his hand. His heavy lidded eyes never stray. “But I can’t say no to free drinks”.

The barman works the taps in your periphery but you remain focused on Shinsou. There’s a new scar across his cheekbone, right where his persona mask ends. Another over his mouth, a thin line of rough tissue that cuts through his five o’clock shadow. The mass untameable hair on his head has been cut shorter, tapering around his neck.

“Leech”.

“Look who’s talking,” his smirk widens. You watch his gaze slide over your head and dread swirls in your stomach at the gleam in his eye. “I think your nepo baby boyfriend just got here”.

“Not my boyfriend,” you hiss under your breath. He holds his laughter between his teeth. “And don’t call him that!”

Shinsou laughs into his palm, low and rumbling. You hear the fond invocation of your name as the heat of another body appears at your back. Met with brilliant teal and stormy grey, Shouto greets you both apologetically.

Perking up self consciously, you say, “You made it!”

“Hi. Sorry, I got caught up and lost track of time”.

You’re happy to see him. He’s in fitted jeans and a dark button up shirt over an old black turtleneck. Heterochromatic eyes slide from your smiling face to Shinsou’s own disinterest, then drawn to the drinks that have steadily begun to accumulate on the bar counter.

“Ah, let me get you a drink—” you wave over the guy who served you, though it is hardly necessary when he’s already observing. He saunters over with a pint of lager, setting it beside Mina’s garish rainbow concoction.

“Everything alright?”

Squinting at the messy kanji on his name tag, you think you can make it out. Kei, it reads. “Would we be able to add another to the tab? Our friend just made it”.

For some reason Shouto crowds in closer, the cool press of his left side seeping through your shirt. Kei barely pays him any mind. “No problem,” a cold flush crawls across your back when he winks. “Anything for you. What’ll it be?”

“I’ll have a highball,” Shouto interjects. You frown at his sudden sharp demeanour, and lean your weight back in hopes of comforting him. The air warms up.

Kei’s enthusiasm fractures imperceptibly, “Alright. Let me get started on that for ya”. Shinsou snorted, his head dipped to his chest and shaking; you think you aren’t nearly drunk enough for whatever this is.

“Shit. You really are petty,” Shinsou speaks up after Kei departs to the other end of the bar. “I always thought Midoriya was exaggerating”.

“Petty?” you echo, squinting at your roommate with a soft pout. Shouto fixes his gaze to the bottles lined across the wall and looks as though he wants the earth to swallow him whole.

“Highballs are tedious to make,” Shinsou turns his back to the bar, leaning against it with his drink in hand. “You definitely chose that on purpose”.

“I didn’t,” Shouto monotoned. “I like whisky”.

“I’ve never seen you drink whisky,” your voice lilts into suspicion. Shouto narrows his eyes, pointedly avoiding yours. A terse beat passes, and you inhale with defeat. “Oh, whatever. Go say hi to the others while we bring the drinks”.

Shouto blanched. “I can help—”

“I’ve already got a big strong man here to help me,” Shinsou scoffed. There’s an umbrella resting on the lip and a purple straw in his mouth. You put a hand on Shouto’s bicep and squeeze, “You need to let Momo know you’re here before she sends out a search party”.

The contact visibly placates him. You watch after him as he makes his way to the booth. Slurred over the low music, he turns the short corner to be met with a cheer in much the same way you had.

“You two are ridiculous,” Shinsou murmurs, amused exasperation clear in his tone. Splitting the drinks into two groups to carry, you ignore his remark and the fondness swirling in your chest.

Kei appears and sets the highball down. A tall glass of liquid gold, three carved ice cubes fizzing at the bottom, a lemon garnish on the rim. “Thank you,” you tell him, pleased when he reciprocates your sheepish grin.

You let Shinsou take it— your hands are already full and slipping. The others have pulled Shouto into the booth and sandwiched him between Denki and Mina, whose distinct voices are overlapping as they try to get a word in.

Denki stops mid sentence as Shinsou slams the drinks onto the table. You do the same, albeit much more carefully. He lists them off one by one, sliding the glasses over to their persons. Shouto’s comes last.

“And in a surprising turn of events we have Todoroki with a japanese highball”.

Shouto accepts the drink with his right hand and a straight face, ignoring the harmonious ‘ooh’ that reverberates around the booth.

Bakugo points his pinky at him, “And since when do you drink whisky?”

Petulantly, Shouto mutters, “Since now”.

Ultimately deciding to pull up a chair, Shinsou sits at the head of the table while you are squeezed on the end beside Bakugo; he side glances, raising his brow in acknowledgement.

“Dude, now that we’re all here, let's have a toast!” Denki exclaims, literal sparks of joy bouncing from his crown. Everybody groans.

“I’ll hear your toast bro,” Kirishima lifts his pint, the wonderful enabler that he is. Shouto meets your gaze across the table and raises his own with a shrug.

“I, uh…” Denki shrinks under the pressure. “I dunno what I was gonna say”.

“To a quick death,” Shinsou proposed, halfheartedly holding his sake in the air.

“Hear hear,” muttered from beside you, Bakugo’s eyes fell closed. You snickered, alcohol weakening your inhibitions as you hook your chin over his shoulder. He allows it.

Momo voices her disapproval and tips her glass, “To good health”.

“To Chargebolt,” Jirou adds, a grin splitting her cheeks, laughter already bleeding into her words. “Seen him at his best, seen him at his worst, and still can’t tell the difference”.

“Oi!”

“To a livable minimum wage!” Uraraka hiccups. All the blood in her body seems to have rushed to her face; expression comically determined, betrayed by her spasming diaphragm. Everyone lifts a glass.

The night crawls on. Another round, then two. Kei refills your glass, never without a flirty comment. You feel thawed from the inside out, a silly smile fixed to your lips. Your cheeks hurt from laughing, from the too-forceful kisses given by Mina, the rough pinch of explosive fingers.

You might as well be engaged in a game of musical chairs; the only one refusing to surrender his spot is Bakugo. Jirou and Momo slink away somewhere private— ‘private’ being behind the vintage jukebox right by the bathrooms— and Kirishima scoots over to wrap you up in a side hug and pushes all the air from your lungs. Uraraka drapes herself across your front. Shinsou surrenders as Mina sits in his lap. Being with them is as innate as breathing.

Maybe you didn’t fight a war together but they still embraced you as their own. And Shouto watches with that terrible, awful, shoujo twinkle in his eyes; you flush hot whenever you catch him, inundated by the desire to reach across and kiss him.

Your pulse is quick and movements slowed. A pleasant buzz circulates around your body. After the third round Shouto begins insisting that you stay put. “Okay,” you conceded tipsily. “Tell Kei I said hi”.

Shouto leaves with a vaguely constipated frown.

Bakugo cackles and refuses to tell you what was so funny. Momo returns to the sight of you clinging to the stubborn hero’s arm, cursing his name. “What are we laughing at?” she muses. You notice a few things first: there’s a fresh bruise on her neck, a button on her dress undone, and a glass of water in her grasp.

Disheveled Momo is a rare treat. You’d tease her about it, if Bakugo did not immediately jump at the opportunity to tease you first. “Just gearhead and halfie being oblivious idiots,” he surmised. Another snort bursts from his nose. “‘Tell Kei I said hi’. Shit. Should’a seen his face”.

“Bakugo,” Momo chides, attempting to disguise her own amusement. “Go easy on them”.

He clicks his tongue, shaking you with a rough shrug of his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel and fuck already”.

Your mood tumbles, dampening as you sulk, “Shouto doesn’t want me like that”.

“Yeah, right. And vice prez didn’t just get fingered by the jukebox”.

“Bakugo!” Momo’s voice is stronger this time. She whips her head toward the other patrons and back, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. “I did not get… fingered,” she protested with a sharp whisper.

“What’s that?” you feign ignorance, drowsy and loose lipped. “Momo got fingered?!”

Making Bakugo laugh feels a little like winning the lottery; having him throw an arm around you as he does it leaves you dizzy with accomplishment. You curl into his side, shoulders shaking. You mouth an apology across the booth and Momo stretches to take your hand, stressing her forgiveness.

Shouto shatters the jovial atmosphere. He returns stiffly, his glare set in stone, and places a drink you did not order in front of you. After a quick sniff you realise that it’s water.

“Once you’ve drunk that we should head home,” he says. It’s posed as a suggestion but you hear the instruction. Not wanting to irritate him any further, you begin to sip.

Momo’s brow pinches with worry. “Is everything alright, Shouto?”

He breathes harshly through his nose, coming out in a puff of cold air. ”Yes, everything’s fine. I’m sorry to cut the night short, Momo,” his face softens. “It was good to see you”.

Astonishingly, Bakugo says nothing. His arm snakes from around your back. You finish the water with a big gulp, resurfacing for air. “Done,” you wipe the back of your hand across your lips.

Shouto steadies you while you awkwardly scoot around the booth. Momo gathers you both into a hug, her kind hand stroking the length of your spine. “Text us when you get home”.

“We will,” you promise, saluting as you’re gently pulled away. “See ya on Monday, great explosion murder god dynamite, sir!”

The others have dispersed amongst the small crowd. You mourn not being able to say goodbye to them all. Shouto cinches around your waist and guides you to the door. You can’t complain— instinctively sinking into the embrace, surrounded by his cologne— but you do wonder what the hurry is.

You waded through the mass of people until you both finally made your way out into the open air. The breeze encourages you closer to his front, cold and refreshing in your lungs. Already you feel as if some of your drunken enthusiasm is dissolving.

“Shouto?” his pace slows mercifully, coming to a stop underneath a streetlight. The bulb blinks in five second intervals, dousing him in sickly orange. “Are you mad?”

A warm hand hooks your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye only to avoid looking back. His lips part to speak, and when nothing comes they close. “I’m not mad,” he intoned quietly, thumb skimming over the line of your jaw. Your breath catches.

He seems so… guilty.

“I think you are,” you observe, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. You bring his hand down and intertwine it with yours. The alcohol must be making you brave. “But if you’re not ready you don’t need to tell me”.

Some colour returns to his skin. Shouto huffs a disbelieving laugh. “You’re so—” cutting off that train of thought, he tugs you forward and wraps you into a hug. The crook of his neck shields you from the cold, and for a few short moments all you can hear is your heart beating in your ears.

“…Have you ever felt like there are things you want to say but there’s something that always stops you from expressing them?”

You take note of how his grip tightens, warm nose squished into your cheek as if he thought you might run. Shouto is nervous— rather, he’s making himself vulnerable to you. “I have,” you murmur.

He bows his head to burrow into your shoulder, “Then, would you give me the chance to say them?”

What you hear is: will you be patient with me?

“Now?” you ask gently. The light overhead flickers again and your vision swims. You’re realising now that his impulsivity might simply be because he’s drunk. “Don’t you want to talk at home?”

Shouto shakes his head. “If I say it now you can change your mind and go back”.

That’s worrying. You chew nervously on your bottom lip, “…Okay”.

You expect him to let go but he doesn’t, though he does loosen his hold, as if giving you the chance to leave. Following a deep inhale, Shouto solemnly admits, “That guy at the bar. Kei. He asked me to give you his phone number”.

“He did?”

“Yes,” he says.

“So where is it?”

Dread and fatigue curdled in your stomach. You hear the moment Shouto swallows his caution. The atmosphere sours as he admits, “I burned it”.

You step back, leaving his arms limp at his sides. He looks betrayed. Like you’re testing the strength of a promise you don’t recall making. This was not a good time nor place to talk about this.

“My feet hurt,” his eyes widened in confusion. “I’m cold and I’m drunk and my feet hurt, Shouto. I want to go home”.

The request registers slowly. You watch his face fall, gathering a facsimile of a smile. “Okay. Then let’s go home”.

Your chest aches. You want to cry. You scramble for his hand and squeeze it tight, hating the despondent tone in his voice. “We’re too drunk. We’ll talk about this in the morning,” and that seems to lessen the rigidity in his bones.

From then on, the walk is done in heavy silence. Your thoughts are muddied and loud, emotions bouncing back and forth between resentment and uncertainty.

Underneath all of it is a seedling of hope that you daren’t nurture.

The atmosphere clings, following you all the way home, suffocating as you stand a metre apart in front of your respective bedrooms. You bid him goodnight, hand lingering on the handle. Anticipation sits like a stone in your chest.

You lie in bed waiting for him to knock.

He doesn’t.

Next time you open your eyes you wince at the throb behind them; it pings around the inside of your skull and you groan into your pillow.

There’s movement in the apartment. Shouto had always been an early riser. Cold relief washes over you at the confirmation that he was here. Last night filters through your mind. One scene after another you try to make sense of it all.

Kei had been genuinely flirting— you didn’t really think to take it seriously at the time. It was harmless fun, and you figured he was just the type that enjoyed teasing.

Shouto must’ve realised it early on. That was the reason he stepped in and kept you away from the bar. But that didn’t line up right with the reality you knew, because the only reasonable explanation for his behaviour would be that—

You shoot upright, kicking off your covers, and immediately feel it rebound. Thumbs pressed to your temples, you massage firm circles into your skin until the pain dulled.

Holy shit. Shouto was jealous.

A strange blanket of exhaustion settles back over you, as though your muscles have atrophied. You slide down the headboard and stare up at the marks on the ceiling, all sprawled out like dropped skeins of yarn. Suddenly your bedroom was a refuge from an inevitable relationship altering conversation.

Shouto had been jealous of a man vying for your affection. Your Shouto: gentle, placid, considerate, patient, funny, beautiful Shouto.

“Fuck,” you whisper into the emptiness. You can hear the coffee machine brewing in the distance. You’re torn between screaming into your hands and jumping on the bed.

You settle on getting up. Slowly. It’s clear you had been drunker than you thought; your pyjamas are on back to front. You tremble as you slip your arms through the sleeves and right the collar, padding over to the door.

Shouto wanted to talk last night and you stopped him. Guilt gnaws away at you. All that courage was shot down. Pretending to forget about it isn’t an option— you had to do this.

The plan to be stealthy is squandered by the hinge on your door. A harsh squeak reverberates through the apartment. You huff, lowering from your tip toes, and walk towards the kitchen.

Another body enters the hallway. Shouto turns on his heel and nearly drops his mug as you almost collide. Reflexes hammered into him, he catches it in one hand and manoeuvres you away from the hot splash with the other.

“Shit. Did it burn you?” he breathes, bringing your hand up to his mouth. A chilly puff of air blows over your skin and you shiver.

You clear your throat and try to find your voice. “I think you got it. Thank you, Shouto”.

The sound of his name pulls him out of his reverie. You try not to feel hurt when he drops your hand like hot coal. “Sorry,” casting a forlorn look at the half empty mug and the small coffee puddle at his feet. Lips pressed into a thin line, he says, “I was bringing you some coffee. Thought you might need it”.

Delicate tendrils of steam dance and dissipate into the air. You gently cup your hands around his and receive the mug, a small smile pulling at your mouth. His eyes are keen and searching as you take a drink.

“I definitely needed it,” you tell him between sips. The coffee paves a hot path down your throat to your stomach— the warmth spreads, seeking to fill the spaces between. All the earlier fear is washed away.

The time you spend observing one another feels like a short eternity. You watch hope visibly thread into his features, brighter; the way he always should be.

Softly, you ask, “Do you think we could talk about last night?”

“Yeah,” the word comes in a whisper. Head inclining, Shouto nods in one slow motion. Then, louder, “I should clean up, first. Where do you want to…?”

“Where?” you repeat. The thoughts in his head are written plainly across his forehead and you longed to rid him of them. Tilting and raising your brows suggestively, you tease, “Bedroom?”

Shouto gives an amused huff and the remnants of caution are blown away like seeds in a dandelion clock. His steps are lighter, a subtle bounce to them. Light filters into the living room and your spirit is buoyed by giddiness and wonder.

What had you been so afraid of?

You wait in the crook of the L shaped couch, legs curled beneath your body, facing the tall standing windows that overlook the city. Your headache has lessened into a quiet echo.

While he mops up the coffee you finish off the last drops in your cup. You take a moment to appreciate your surroundings. The emptiness you once felt in this room no longer exists. Blankets strewn across the cushions, small crochet coasters, pictures put into frames, books left face down to save the page, things out of place— it felt so lived in.

It felt like home.

You sit up when footfalls approach. Shouto is pretty in the late morning light, under eye shadows and all. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“Not much,” he confesses. His weight shifts before he finally decides on sitting beside you, turning to mirror your posture. “I thought I might’ve messed things up”.

You stretch to put your mug on the coffee table and his eyes follow attentively. “Shouto, you didn’t mess anything up,” he wrings his hands together in his lap, searching your face for dishonesty and finding none. “Though you probably shouldn’t have burned up that guy's number”.

“Probably,” he affirmed. The hair on his left side is pressed flat to his head. You count the creases on his cheek, stopping at the healing bruise on his jaw. The movement of his full mouth draws you back, “I am sorry for that. It was childish of me and I took away your choice”.

You hum, shuffling closer on your knees. Shouto’s expression is beautifully open, and you understand it, because your heart beat is thrumming just the same. “Next time, give me the number so I can ask you to burn it myself”.

Shouto’s fiddling halts. It’s a relief. You thought if he pulled at that hangnail any more he might unravel in front of you. A crease forms between his brows, “What?”

“I don’t want anyone else’s number. I…” losing some of your strength, you close your eyes for a second. Inhale deeply, continuing on an exhale, “Last night, you were jealous”.

It’s not a question. Shouto nods, his hand making an aborted reach for your own but thinking better of it.

You slide your palm against his. Your fingers fill the spaces between his knuckles. Shouto holds on tight and you ask, “…Why?”

A nail traces random shapes into his skin. You watch him watching your finger, mouth curled into a small, wobbly smile. He steels his resolve, an internal monologue you aren’t privy to. With spine tingling cadence, he says, “Because I’m in love with you”.

You’re not sure what you anticipated. There isn’t much that could prepare you for such a long awaited admission— for something you’d only daydreamed about hearing. The hunger in your heart rears its head, seeing his words as permission to want. To take.

Shouto carries on, incognisant to your plight. “I made peace with my feelings a long time ago. It’s not something I wanted you to worry about”.

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him. “Deciding things for me”.

“I don’t want you to make peace with them. I want you to share them. With me,” Your eyes meet as he peers up. There’s a stray kiss curl by his temple, white and soaking up the sun. He shudders when you twist it gently around your finger. “I love you too, dummy”.

Heat prickles at the back of your neck, feeling the shift in atmosphere. “Oh,” is his eloquent reply. A slow blooming grin pulls at his mouth as the reality sets in.

“Yeah. Oh”. Giddiness bubbles in your chest like water in a wellspring and you let go to cup his face. Shouto leans into the cradle your hands form, eyes fluttering closed as your thumb skims over the scar tissue. His ears are warm.

Guided by fleeting impulses you press a quick kiss to his left eyelid, and he sucks in a shaky breath. You move lower, nose bumping his cheek, to press another to the corner of his mouth.

“Is this okay?” you whisper, feeling like you were on the delicate precipice of something incredible. His mouth turns to chase yours, bicoloured eyes peeking beneath his lashes.

“Kiss me,” he murmurs, and it comes like a puff of steam. “On the mouth this time”.

Your lips tremble as you try not to laugh, aligning with his. You kiss him, petal soft and gentle, and feel it when he smiles. Tentative, derived from uncertainty and unfamiliarity.

Shouto’s cool fingers slide around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. Don’t go anywhere. You answer in kind— hands sliding down to his chest to guide him back into the cushions and feel his heart racing as you settle your knees either side of his hips. You barely part for air, and Shouto follows your lead.

“Again,” he mumbles.

The intensity grows. Shouto kisses like it’s his last. Strong arms wrap around your waist, wandering hands mapping out the topography of your body. Somewhere between, your tongue dips into the seam, biting his bottom lip and plucking a whine right from his mouth. Heat flutters low in your abdomen; hips squirm between your thighs, his chest pressed to your own.

“Shouto,” you groan, pushing harder, needing to be closer, threading into the soft hair at the back of his head. Fingers curl into the fat by your hips, they pull, rocking you into his lap. Invigorated, Shouto nips at your lips. Arousal spikes through you at the cool exhale— his tongue slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, wet and cold.

“Fuck, is that—” you pant, head falling back as he begins to leave a trail of hot kisses down your throat. “S’that your quirk?”

He hums an affirmative. The sound is resonant, deep in his chest and satisfied. Smug. You feel the impression of his smile against your jugular. Static fills your brain. Your thighs clench, rutting forward to relieve the ache between your legs, imagining all the things his mouth could do.

At some point you part to catch your breath. Your foreheads come together, sharing awed laughter. Shouto cheeks are pink and there’s a soft smile on his swollen, kiss-bitten lips. His hand moves to cup your jaw, rubbing small circles into the cheekbone.

“We should… slow down…” his chest heaves, eyes swallowed by his pupils. They fall to his lap, right where you’re pressed to his cock. You file away the lazy slur in his voice and wonder if that’s where all his blood went. “…I want to do this properly”.

Figures that he would have more willpower than you; though you get the sense if you pushed, he’d give, and every surface in the apartment would see you laid out. Gathering your thoughts is made much more difficult as he kneads at your thigh, heedless to your struggle.

“Okay baby,” you murmur, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his brow bone. His ears turn red and you’re alight, “You like that?”

Shouto tucks his grin against your shoulder. Like before, he locks both arms around your back and holds you close. You comb your fingers through his hair, overlapping white and red, a long tender moment passing.

“You love me,” he whispered apprehensively. Then again, thick with wonderment. “You love me”.

It’s unbelievable to him— and that’s unbelievable to you. Shouto is easy to love, moreso than anyone you have ever met. All clandestine glances, soft spoken words and inside jokes; a book of every witty little thing you’ve said, keeping your words close, giving importance to the things you enjoy; he’s gag gifts and thoughtfulness and open arms, the reason all your hot drinks never go cold, he’s the cream that never melts. He’s home.

You cradle him to your chest with no intention of letting go. The sun crawls higher, casting a warm blanket over your shoulders.

“I do,” you reply. “How could I not?”

#maybe it's bc it's shouto #maybe it's bc this was written so well #but im crying- just a little #he's so !!!!#he's so boyfriend #so babygirl if you will

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sugamii · 1 year

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Anything For You

Your boyfriend gets some wild advice from his closest friend and decides to bring it to fruition. Only it's incredibly embarrassing and not at all what you're into... Or so you thought...

Warnings: dom!bokuto, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, creampie, fem!bodied reader

Minors DNI.

All characters are 18+.

2100+ words.

Smut is below the cut as always.

A/N: I've never written for Bokuto before, so I'm a little nervous putting this out there. Please let me know if y'all like it!

“I want to watch.”

Your hands stop their ministrations in his hair, eyes peeling away from the movie you were watching together to glance down at the man between your legs, his eyes wide and curious. You must have had a funny look on your face at his statement because he turns around, kneeling before you and sliding his hands up your outer thighs, resting his cheek against your right knee.

“Watch me what?” you ask, genuinely confused and curious as to what the actual hell he was asking for. Watch you cook? He did that already. And you were already watching a movie together. What could he possibly want?

He inhales deeply, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I want to watch you,” he answers.

You feel yourself getting annoyed with how vague he is being. You narrow your eyes at him. “Why are you being so weird about telling me the answer? Just tell me what you want to watch me do.”

He sits back on his knees, hands leaving your body briefly before he’s grabbing your knees and shoving your legs apart. You yelp in surprise, heat rushing primarily to your core at his roughness, but a touch of pink dusts your cheeks.

“I want to watch you touch yourself,” he says softly. He peeks up at you through his eyelashes. “Can I?”

You stare at him blankly, cogs turning rapidly in your mind. Watch you? Touch? Yourself? He… wants that? But why? Where is this even coming from? Now that you think about it, him and Kuroo had gone to dinner the other night to catch up while they had the time. Were they talking about their girlfriends? Did this come up during dinner? Only Kuroo would tell your boyfriend how hot something like this was. And he would soak up every single word that bastard spewed at him. Kuroo and his girlfriend were notoriously kinky. You knew this because his girlfriend was a close friend of yours and you heard all about it every time the two of you got together.

Anyway, there was no possible way you were going to let him watch you touch yourself. No way in hell. How embarrassing…

Is what you thought…

So why…

Why are you sitting against the arm of the couch with your legs spread wide, your bare pussy on display for him? He sits across the couch from you, leaning back against his own armrest as he watches your fingers dance across your clit.

“Slowly, Y/N,” he says softly.

You lean your head back to stare at the ceiling, tears fogging your vision. You slow your fingers to a snail pace, groaning in frustration as your body starts to calm down from a steady build up. This bastard… He isn’t even touching himself! Even though he is clearly hard as a rock. You lift your head back up to glare at him, fingers stopping altogether.

“Don’t stop,” he snaps, making direct eye contact.

You bite your lips, a tear making its way down your face as your fingers begin circling your clit again. You moan as you make eye contact with him, fingers dipping down to collect the essence that was leaking out and rubbing it back into your swollen clit.

“One finger,” he says now. “Put one finger inside of you.”

You listen so well, he thinks, as he watches you slowly slide your middle finger into your hole. You whimper as your finger disappears completely inside you and your head falls back. He wants to fuck you so bad right now, but watching you obey his every command while you touch yourself is so hot, he wants to drag this out for as long as possible.

You stay still, walls fluttering around your finger as you try to dial your orgasm back.

“If you come without permission, don’t expect me to fuck you,” he had said when you started.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you attempt to calm yourself.

“Finger yourself,” he instructs you. His voice is firm.

You meet his gaze again, eyes pleading to just either let you come or to come fuck you already. Nevertheless, you slowly begin thrusting your finger into your pussy, moaning freely now as you feel your finger enter and leave your body. Every time you pull your finger out, you can feel your walls suck it right back in. As you pick up your pace, you begin to hear just how wet you are.

“Ko, please,” you beg, voice breathless.

“Slow down,” he says simply.

You whine as you still your finger inside of you, orgasm floating away from your grasp once again. You nearly cry as your body starts shaking.

“Please,” you beg again. “Ko, please come fuck me.” Your face is covered in your tears with more threatening to spill out.

He wishes he could take a picture of you just like this. Your finger buried knuckle deep inside your own pussy, your face wet with tears, it’s so sexy.

He smirks at you. “Add another finger,” he says, ignoring your pleas.

You nearly begin sobbing as you pull your finger out and shove your ring finger back in with it. Your brain is pure mush as you begin fucking yourself with two fingers now. You can’t think straight as squelching noises fill your ears. It feels so good, body shaking as your orgasm begins building up once again. You cry out, head falling back once again.

“Please, let me come,” you try again, words barely leaving your lips.

“No,” he replies sternly and like the good girl he knows you are, you pull your fingers free from your sex to stop yourself from coming.

You ball your hands up into fists, chest heaving as your orgasm gets further and further from your grasp.

“Y/N,” he calls out to you softly.

You lift your head up, nearly jumping out of your skin when you see how close he is to you. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears, breathing so heavy, that you didn’t hear him move closer to you.

He cups your face in his hands, thumb pulling at your chin to open your mouth as he leans in to devour you. His tongue dives quickly into your mouth, stroking against your own. You sob into him, fingers tangling into his hair to hold him against you. Not that it did any good, the beefy asshole. He pulls away from you easily.

“Fuck me, please,” you beg as he looms over you. Without thinking, you shove your hand into the waistband of his sweats, fingers wrapping firmly around his cock. He stiffens above you. “Kotaro, I’m begging you, please. Fuck me.”

He presses his forehead into yours as you slowly stroke his cock. “How bad do you want it?” he asks. He was really dragging this out.

“So bad,” you tell him. Your mouth was moving of its own accord. You were saying anything just to get his dick inside you. “Please.”

He pulls away to yank his shirt off and pull his dick out. He doesn’t even bother taking off his pants.

“Since my baby has been so good, I better give her what she wants,” he says simply before he fully sheathes himself inside you.

You gasp out in surprise as an orgasm rakes through your body just from him entering you. You cry out, hands wrapping around his wrists as more tears fall from your eyes. He grunts from above you, closing his eyes as he feels your pussy convulse around him.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He stays still until he’s sure you’re done coming, not wanting to overstimulate you so early. As you calm down, the smirk returns to his face and you know the teasing is about to come full force. You cover your face with your hands. “All that just from me shoving my dick into you? What do you have to say for yourself, angel?”

He grabs you by your waist and pulls your body down so your back is flush with the couch cushions. He pries your hands away from your face and pins them to the couch.

“Hmm?” he hums, kissing the underside of your jaw.

You don’t answer, opting to turn your face away from his gaze. In response, he pulls all the way out and slams himself back into you. You cry out as the head of his cock grazes your cervix.

“Too deep,” you gasp out.

“Answer me,” he demands as he begins thrusting his cock into you.

You moan out as he thrusts repeatedly into the spot that has you seeing stars, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the immense pleasure he was giving you. You aren’t sure what kind of answer he is looking for and you aren’t sure how you should even answer his question. Especially when he is fucking you so relentlessly like this.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, Y/N,” he groans. “Feels so good.”

You moan out in response, pussy involuntarily clenching around him at his words and he sucks in a breath at the feeling.

His hands find their way underneath your knees, pressing them into your chest. In this position, he reaches a new depth inside of you and you throw your head back in pleasure, mouth wide open in a silent scream as he continues to relentlessly fuck you.

“You take me so damn well,” he praises. “Your pussy keeps sucking me right back in.”

His thrusts turn sloppy, moans picking up as his orgasm quickly approaches.

“Look at you,” he grounds out. “So fucking sexy.”

“Come,” you squeak out in warning, hands pushing at his shoulders as pleasure overwhelms you.

“You gonna come again?” he asks. “Come for me. Open your eyes and look at me, I want to watch you come.”

You pry your eyes open to find his heated gaze. As your eyes meet, your orgasm washes over you again, body shaking as he continues to fuck you. His moans pick up before he follows with his own orgasm, spilling his seed right into you.

You both try to catch your breaths as he lets go of your legs. Your body feels like jell-o, you’re not even sure how you’re going to move from this very couch.

Kotaro leans down to kiss your forehead before pulling away from your body. You feel his come start to slip out of you and you hurriedly cover yourself with your hands to try to catch it before it hits your couch. That would be a hard stain to remove, and an embarrassing one for someone to see.

He comes back with a warm cloth and gently moves your hands out of the way to clean you up. You smile tiredly as he takes care of you, gently wiping your sex and taking the utmost care to thoroughly clean you.

Then he’s hoisting you up into his arms and carrying you to bed. He disappears to dispose of the rag before silently climbing in beside you and pulling you to his chest.

You sigh contentedly before he breaks the silence. “We should do that again,” he comments.

“What?!” you exclaim, sitting up to look at him. “Did you like it that much?! It was so embarrassing!”

He grins at you. “You seemed to be into it,” he says as he brushes your hair out of your face. “Am I wrong?”

You feel your face heat up and avert your gaze.

“That damn Kuroo,” you mutter as you lay back down and turn away from him.

“What about him?” Kotaro asks as his arms snake around your body.

You glare at the wall. “I know he told you about doing that with his girlfriend and that’s what gave you the idea.”

He’s silent behind you.

“Look at you, can’t even deny it,” you mumble.

“Well, he was damn right about it being the sexiest thing ever,” he admits with a shrug.

“How was that even remotely sexy?!”

He hums from behind you, lips pressing into the back of your neck. “You were so wet, I could hear it just from your fingers,” he murmurs into your ear. “And the look on your face? The way your eyes begged me to just fuck you, your little eyebrows furrowing in pleasure. Your body tense as you waited for my next command.” His hands begin fondling your breasts, fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. You begin panting. “The way your pussy glistened in the light. Fuck.” He presses his hips firmly into you and you can feel he’s hard again. “It was so hard not to touch myself.”

Your brain is reduced to mush once again, face hot as you ask him to fuck you again. He chuckles from behind you as he pulls himself from his sweats and enters you from behind in one thrust.

“Anything for you.”

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sugamii · 1 year

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Sickly Sweet | H. Sero

Entry 04 | The Virginity Chronicles

Summary: Being sick truly is an inconvenience, in almost every aspect of life. Especially so when you’re so close to graduation. But if your reward for getting well again is your boyfriend, Hanta, you suppose it might be worth falling ill more often…

(Or, alternatively; Hanta fucks for the first time)

Pairing: Hanta Sero x AFAB!reader

Warnings: swearing, sickness, smut, virginity loss, multiple orgasms, oral (f + m receiving), a lil bit of dry humping, face-sitting, cunniligus, vaginal sex, a little bit of overstimulation, a teensy bit of pain, soooo fluffy (I really went overboard with this one bc im such a simp this man), pussy drunk sero, whiny sero, characters aged up to 18 years!

Word Count: 15.6k

Note: So… I present to you more Sero. This actually originally stemmed from a conversation I had with a friend about how Sero would probably prefer oral to traditional sex and I could not get it out of my head. As a result, once again, ya boi just wants his face ridden. But I’m not complaining…

Additionally, I’d like to apologise in advance. I got real lazy with the editing bc this turned out way longer than I expected and I didn’t budget my time properly. I’ll probably go back in and edit properly some time in the future but I’m too lazy to do that now.

Series Masterlist + Series Taglist

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sugamii · 1 year

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Sweet (Like Honey) | K. Bakugou

Entry 02 | The Virginity Chronicles

Summary: When Katsuki finds out in the worst way possible that Deku is, in fact, not a virgin anymore, he takes matters into his own hands and decides to seek you out.

(Or, alternatively; Katsuki fucks for the first time)

Paring: Katsuki Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, virginity loss, fingering, dry humping, cunnilingus, creampie, multiple orgasms, no contraception mentioned, extremely unrealistic (seriously, this is not what losing your virginity is actually like), characters are aged up to 18

Note: So this was inspired by someone on my AO3, who wondered what Bakugou would be like when he lost his virginity. And this is what my brain had to say.

Series Masterlist + Series Taglist

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sugamii · 1 year

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Virgin Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, creampie, overstimulation || Header by me (edit of a manga panel) || biggest shoutout to @/crumbly-scrombly for co-writing this with me

Virgin Dabi

He will try his hardest, literally his absolute hardest to not cum immediately, but he will as soon as his thick spongy tip breaches the entrance of your tight cunt.

His fat cock will unmistakably twitch and throb, shooting thick creamy cum inside of you.

A shudder will run up his spine, a broken groan spilling from his parted gnarled lips as his eyes flutter shut.

And he'll breathe hard, letting out a choked, throaty "Oh fuck—"

If you move against him, slow and sensually, he will try his best to keep it down but literally cannot help himself — your name will be on his lips with every roll of your hips.

Will get all defensive when you start giggling "That good, huh?” and huff in annoyance, averting his gaze, a cute blush spreading across his cheeks.

He doesn’t have much feeling in the rest of his body so this new sensation of orgasmic bliss is literally out of this world for him.

After he cums, he'll stay inside you until he gets hard again, cause it's so comfy and soft in there.

He'll hold you in place and secretly enjoys the intimacy and closeness. Just don’t point that out, he doesn’t want his mask to slip too far (yet) - so he'll pretend to just want cockwarming.

His big cock won't be soft for long, it’ll grow rock hard in no time, especially if you keep praising, complimenting him. It's what fuels his ego - and his cock.

Then RIP, cause he's not gonna stop until you've cummed multiple times. Because in his mind he has to outdo any competition and make you feel the best any guy has ever made - he wants to be the only one in the world for you.

When his balls are drained, he literally passes out on top of you. He’s so blissed out and if you tell him how well he’s done you might be rewarded with the softest of smiles you've ever seen on his face.

Virgin Shigaraki

He's rough and doesn't care, because that man has no shame, and also no patience. He's got the “all or nothing” mindset – so you better prepare for a rough ride.

He also doesn’t really know how to be gentle? At least not at first, that man still has a lot to learn about love and sex and all that. He wants to make you feel good in the only way he knows how.

Just sheathes himself into you without warning and cums on the spot.

His fat cock will be twitching hard while shooting his load.

But you won't notice, too blissed out by the feeling of being impaled on him, struggling to hold back your own orgasm.

Won't admit he just came either, even though you feel his hot cum dripping down your ass.

He'll stay rock hard and start pumping his cock inside of you, cheeks bright red, ignoring the feeling of getting overstimulated because it means he gets a few more precious moments like this with you.

Eyes screwed shut, his head leans against yours, blissfully enjoying this sweet torture he’s putting himself through.

He'll have you screaming and moaning in no time while he assaults your tight cunt with his fat gamer cock.

His pleasure is first and foremost at this stage of the relationship. However, if you’re really begging and writing he’ll switch positions to make it a little easier on you. He wants to keep fucking you afterall, and it’s better if you want it too.

Won't stop until you've squirted on his cock at least a couple of times.

Because he secretly adores you so much, just doesn’t know how to appropriately show it yet.

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sugamii · 1 year

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Impulses

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader (uses she/her pronouns)

Summary: Sakusa was never one to be impulsive, but there was something about her that made him through caution into the wind.

RATING: PG

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warning(s): Maybe some slight angst? Reader gets treated on and then gets drunk. Some Rich Boy!Kiyoomi bc I love that concept.

Note: This is a COMMISION PIECE bought from @taelia15 on my ko-fi! This is VERY long overdue, and Taelia, you are SUCH an angel for being so patient with me. The last year has been really hard on me, and you have done so much for me. You have no idea how thankful I am for you. Thank you, thank you, thank you SO MUCH. Additionally, i would like to add that I no longer take commissions because I'm pretty sure it's like lowkey illegal, and I don't need a lawsuit on my hands lol.

Commission details: “would you kill me if i asked for a sakusa one? lol. i haven't seen a good proposal from him unless i'm blind”

Masterlist

Buy me a ko-fi

To say that Sakusa Kiyoomi is a private person is to make a massive understatement. It's how he's always been. As a child, he never had many friends. It's not like he couldn't make any friends - he just valued his time alone. He believes that if it hadn't been for Komori, he'd be alone for the rest of his life.

Once Kiyoomi reached high school, he opened up more. However, he'd only done this out of necessity, only when it was important - talking to the team, other players, his coach, etcetera.

Never a man of impulse, Kiyoomi never spoke without thinking. His every word, action, the way his mouth moved - he thought it all through.

He was also quite stubborn. He liked things a certain way. "If it's fine the way it is now, why change it?" he'd always argue. His seniors would describe him has static. Unchanged, never swayed from his ways. Everyone thought that it'd alwyas remain that way. He thought that too.

Then Kiyoomi went to university, and for the first few days, he reamed the same - static like everybody had called him... For the first few days.

Thursday afternoon - STATS 2200.

Kiyoomi was smart. Taking a lower level math class seemed boring to him, but the university required that he do so.

Quickly and quietly, he found a place to sit. He opened up his laptop, ready to take notes, when suddenly,

"Hi," a voice said meekly. "Uh - sorry, is the seat next to you taken?"

Always so cold, stoic, and unmoved. That was Sakusa Kiyoomi. Until now, that is, because with wide eyes and red cheeks, hidden behind his mask, he looked up at the person speaking. "No," he replied. "Go ahead." He was in absolute awe, and for once, his face had something to show for it.

His new classmate let out a chuckle, and Kiyoomi swore that his heart almost beat out of his chest. "My name is (Y/n); it's nice to meet you."

It took a second for Kiyoomi to free himself of the trance the girl had him in. "Sakusa Kiyoomi," he finally said. When she stuck out her hand to shake his, he seemed to draw back. However, it didn't phase her. Instead, she dropped her hand.

In the past, he'd been in this situation before, and everyone had always seemed to take offnse to his reaction. She was different though. He liked that.

The next Thursday, (Y/n) had gotten to class before Kiyoomi. She sat quietly, in a different seat - middle row. He had always been the type to sit in the back of the class, nearest to the door. That way, he was in and out as soon as possible.

But for the first time ever, without thinking, he had made his way down to the middle row, and he plopped himself down in the seat next to (Y/n). In his own mind, he was absolutely freaking out. He ended up in the seat before his brain could even understand his own actions. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Hey!" (Y/n) greeted. "Sorry I moved seats on you. I just can't see very well from the back row."

"Oh, it's... fine," Kiyoomi responded. "Um... How have your other classes been?" God, he was so awkward.

Every week, he sat next to her, and as time went on, he found that conversations had become easier and much more natural. For the first couple of weeks, things had been so tense and abrupt. Kiyoomi would blame himself for that one. He didn't usually go out of his way to initiate friendships, but then again, when was the last time someone had approached him like she did?

When (Y/n) had spoken to him for the first time, it was without intimidation or judgement. She didn't even care when he had frozen up when all she wanted was a handshake. Instead, she greeted him with an open mind and a smile. She was different, so why couldn't he be?

(Y/n) would consider Kiyoomi to be one of her good friends. he would reciprocate those feelings. IN the span of a couple of weeks, the two began to speak outside of class. Every once in a while, they'd find themselves meeting up in the student union, library, or even each other's dorm room to study. Outside of learning the class material, they would learn about each other.

(Y/n) learned about Kiyoomi, his passion for volleyball, and the pet chick he named "Tora" that he had as a child. He told her about the burial he had for her and how Komori cried his eyes out. She found herself laughing at the story.

Kiyoomi learned that (Y/n) had a lot of siblings and grew up as a middle child. He smiled at every word she spoke, especially when she told him about the time that she cried in her oldest brother's arms on the train ride home. She had called him to pick her up from a part where she had too much to drink.

He also learned that she had a boyfriend, some guy by the name Daisuke. They had been dating since their third year of high school after spending their entire childhood tiptoeing around each other. When she spoke of him, Kiyoomi swore he could see stars in her eyes. He didn't understand why, but he felt a tingling feelings in his ears as a pain spread throughout his chest. He ignored that feeling.

A few weeks later, Kiyoomi found himself confused when he sat along in the library. Usually, (Y/n) would arrive before he did, waiting quietly with two cups of coffee. He waited for a total of five minutes before his phone buzzed.

(Y/N) :) Hey. Sorry for texting you so late. I can't make it tonight. I'm not feeling well. I'll make it up to you next week. Promise.

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, but Kiyoomi had always been a thinker, not a feeler. It was rare for him to blindly listen to his gut, but he just couldn't shake this feeling.

And that's how he found himself packing up his books and laptop, stopping by a convenience store for a canned coffee, chocolate milk, and a slice of strawberry shortcake that he knew she loved. He remembered when she'd taken him there during last week's study session.

(Y/n), on the other hand, was sitting alone in her dorm room. She was grateful that her roommate had left for the weekend to visit their parents. Her eyes were red, puffy, and practically glued to her phone. The lump in her throat had been sitting there for an hour, and the only way to get rid of it was to let out another broken sob.

A knock at the door allowed her to glance elsewhere. She began to get up form her bed, but stopped for a moment. She wanted to be alone, so maybe she could just pretend she wasn't there. However, the knocks persisted.

"(Y/n), I know you're in there."

The girl sighed. "What do you want, Kiyoomi?"

Kiyoomi didn't know what to say. After a brief pause, he decided to just tell her the truth. "I got... worried." There was no response. "I brought you a treat. Will you open the door?" His ears were able to pick up on the sound of his friend shuffling around for a bit. Then, the doorknob began to turn. When the door opened, she stood there, looking down at the ground. Though he couldn't see her face, he knew that she was upset about something. "What's going on?"

(Y/n) shrugged and shook her head. "Nothing," she lied with a sniffle. "I just have a cold is all. You didn't need to come out here; you could get sick."

Kiyoomi just shook his head back and walked into the room. He set down the treats he'd bought. "You're lying," he accused her. "I'm not stupid, and neither are you. If you were really sick, you'd be much more concerned for my safety, and you wouldn't have let me in."

He was right. (Y/n) knew how Kiyoomi was about his health, and she had always respected that. "I just really don't want to see anyone right now, okay?"

"You've been crying," he stated. "What's going on?"

(Y/n) grew frustrated. None of her other friends seemed to care when had cancelled their plans for the week, so why couldn't he just let it go? "I just don't see why you care so much!" She exclaimed in an outburst of emotion. "We met only a month ago! It's not like we're best friends, so just get out of my dorm and leave me alone! Learn how to take no for an answer!"

Kiyoomi sighed. "And you're drunk," he told her. "Come on; I'll get you to bed, and we can talk about it in the morning, okay?"

"Fuck you," she mumbled under her breath.

He let the insult bounce right off of him. With a roll of his eyes, he scooped his friend up into his arms. "You don't really mean that," he sighed as he laid her down on her bed. "I'll put your cake in the fridge, and we'll go to that ramen place tomorrow when you wake up."

That's how (Y/n) found herself waking up around noon the next day with a killer headache. She let out a loud groan as she rubbed her forehead. When she finally hopped out of bed, she was surprised to see Kiyoomi sitting at her desk.

"I hope you don't mind that I stayed the night," he said. "I slept on the floor... I just wanted to make sure that you were be okay."

(Y/n) grunted as she struggled to keep her balance, due to both her sleepiness and her hangover. "Uh, yeah, um... Sorry, I just -"

"It's okay," he interrupted. "Get showered and dressed. We're going out for ramen, remember? I'll wait outside."

"Okay," is all she could muster together as her friend stepped out of the room. Her shower was quick and very, very, very hot. She spent her time washing away her tears, shame, embarrassment, and the stench of alcohol. Once she finished, she dressed herself in a hoodie and a pair of leggings. While the shower helped to make her feel refreshed, the hangover that occupied her body. This was clear as she threw on a pair of sunglasses and gathered her phone, keys, and wallet before meeting Kiyoomi in the hallway.

"You could have waited inside, you know," she said to him. "You looked like a pervert just standing out here." She was teasing him, of course.

Kiyoomi only rolled his eyes at the jab as he took his keys out of his pocket. "Let's go."

The walk to the dorm's lobby was quiet without either of them saying much. However, it wasn't uncomfortable. Silence between the two friends had never felt that way.

"I'm sorry for cancelling on you at the last minute," (Y/n) apologized after a moment of silence. "I should have said something earlier."

Kiyoomi shook his head, dismissing her. "It doesn't matter," he told her before reassuring, "I'm just glad that you're okay. I was worried about you."

For whatever reason, his words made her blush. "I see."

Finally, the two reached one of the student parking lots where Kiyoomi's car resided. It was a two-door vehicle, black and sleek. (Y/n) always forgot that he came from money. Meanwhile, she'd been studying on a long list of scholarships. She was just glad that he wasn't a snob like many of her other classmates.

Just like the walk, the driver was quiet, save for the music playing through the speakers of the car. It wasn't until the two had gotten seated at the restaurant that the conversation started.

"Are you alright?" Kiyoomi asked. Though he was usually so monotone, (Y/n) could tell that there was genuine concern behind his question.

"Other than the hangover," she began, "I'm fine. It'll go away after we get some food." Her voice was low and raspy as a result of the crying she did the night before.

"You don't..." Kiyoomi paused for a moment, trying to not let his frustration get the better of him. The last thing she needed was for him to become frustrated. "You don't need to hide from me; you're not okay. I saw what you were like last night." He was never one to pry like this, but he couldn't help, nor could he explain the care that he had for (Y/n). He was always so comfortable around her. Everyone had always treated him so coldly, never understanding his demeanor. To her, he was just Kiyoomi.

For a second, (Y/n) could feel her bottom lip begin to wobble, and she was convinced that had she not run herself dry of tears, a few would have fallen from her eyes. "Daisuke," she stuttered. It came out in a broken whisper. She took a moment, swallowing hard before being able to speak again. "One of his friends posted a video of him with another girl... I think he was at some party - they kissed."

This was the first time that she had said it out loud. Hell, it was the first time she had talked about it at all. "He was my best friend too... I guess I just thought that he and I would be together for the rest of our lives... Everyone in our families would say it all the time."

There was a disgruntled noise. It came from Kiyoomi. "What an asshole," he muttered. When he saw the pout on (Y/n)'s face, he regained his composure. "Sorry. Insulting him will do no good. How are you feeling?"

"Like absolute shit," (Y/n) answered truthfully. "I just don't understand what I did to deserve this. We grew up together... Don't I deserve a little bit of respect?"

Before he knew was he was doing, Kiyoomi reached out and grabbed her hand. "Listen to me - you did nothing wrong. he's an asshole who threw away not only his girlfriend, but the girl who had been by his side since he was a kid," he told her. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to reach into her mind. "He decided that one night with a random person was worth losing the smartest and the most kind person that I have ever known."

By the end of Kiyoomi's speech, (Y/n) felt her face growing red and hot. She was unsure of how she wasn't tearing up at that very moment. The only thing she could do was squeeze his hand and reply with a quiet "thank you."

He gave her a small, subtle smile. "I'm only being honest."

"Well, I like that you're always honest with me," she admitted. "I like when you smile at me too."

Now, it was Kiyoomi's turn to blush.

They spent a lot of time together from that point forward. (Y/n) enjoyed his presence. He was just there for her. They didn't have to be doing anything in particular. Some days, they'd just sit in her bed, never speaking. Again, the silence never felt uncomfortable. Whenever she was with her other friends, they'd always push her buttons, asking for details and updates on the situation with Daisuke.

Kiyoomi never asked. It's not that he didn't care. In fact, he began to think that he cared too much. Every time he thought about it, he wanted to find the bastard and give him a mouthful of his fist.

But he knew that the last thing (Y/n) wanted was to be pestered about the boy who broke her heart, and well, starting a fist fight would just cause issues. He decided to just be there for her, and she appreciated it.

"Kiyoomi," she said to him one day. They'd been sitting next to each other on her bed. Some movie was playing on her small T.V., but neither of them were paying much attention to it.

Instead, Kiyoomi's focus was on the way her head rested against his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Thank you... for everything," she spoke softly. "For taking care of me and being here. I haven't said thank you until now."

He carefully shrugged, not wanting to bump her head around. "It's the least I could do. You've been the first real friend I've made outside of the volleyball team. I'm not exactly the most approachable person."

(Y/n) hummed. "Well, people are judgmental assholes... Not you though. You saw me sad and piss drunk, yet you're still here."

The statement made him chuckle. "You're an exception to that rule too. I like you."

She playfully shoved him with her side. "Woah there, Kiyo! You have to be careful with the way you speak," she teased. "You're gonna make me fall for you even more."

Had Kiyoomi been a dog, his ears would have shot straight up in interest. "'More?'"

"Mhm..."

Silence. Tense silence for the first time ever.

Kiyoomi didn't say anything. Instead, he shifted his body, forcing (Y/n) to move her head away from its resting place. He looked at her intensely. His large land reached up to grab her chin. He tilted her head up to press a kiss to her lips, his impulses taking over once again.

The kiss was sweet and quiet. Thought it was relatively short, (Y/n) swore it lasted forever. She could herself being lifted off of the earth and into space. She came back to reality when he pulled away.

Their noses were still touching, and she could feel his lips brush against her own as he confessed to her. "I'm starting to fall for you too." It was a whisper, so quiet that she could barely make it out, as if he was terrified to speak.

(Y/n) only smiled as she looked at him with a lovesick gaze. "Good. I'm glad we've got that settled then." She pressed a short kiss to his lips once more and turned her face back to the T.V. screen. "Stay the night. My roommate's gone for the weekend."

"Again?" Kiyoomi chuckled.

"What? Are you complaining?"

Now it was his turn to playfully nudge her. "No. Shut up."

He did decided to stay that night... In (Y/n)'s tiny dorm room, in her tiny bed, with her wrapped up in his large frame.

It had been a surprise to all of Kiyoomi's friends and family when they'd first met (Y/n). She'd just been so different from him. When they had asked how the couple had gotten together, Kiyoomi's answer only surprised them more.

"It just kinda happened."

He didn't know what it was about (Y/n) that allowed him to just live. Whenever he was around her, it was like nothing else in the world mattered. it was so easy to give into every impulse when he was around her, even now...

The final spike from the Jackals had just been delivered to the opposing team. Everything seemed to still for just a moment until the referee blew his whistle, signifying a point scored. They had won the final set for the international championship.

Thought the arena was occupied by thousands of fans, all screaming in joy, along with his rowdy teammates, Kiyoomi was focused on one person only. She stood in the VIP section, cheering with the rest of the crowd. As their eyes met, and he saw hers filled with nothing but pride, he tuned everyone out.

There it was again - that feeling in his chest that made him feel like his heart was going to explode. it was a feeling of excitement and freedom. It made him want to take a break from the stillness he'd known all his life and just run - and that's exactly what he did.

His body moved before his mind could tell him otherwise. It was like he was being run by an engine. His feet made their way towards her, pushing past the team and all the cameras that surrounded him. It was as if he was fighting against the sea's strongest currents, but finally, he'd made it to her.

Before (Y/n) could say anything, he scooped her up into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. He could feel her smile against his lips, causing him to reciprocate. Once he pulled away, he realized he'd caught everybody's attention. However, he couldn't find it in himself to care. He only cared about the woman that resided in his grasp.

(Y/n) looked up at him. "Are you okay?" She asked. After being answered with a nod, she followed up with, "What's going through your head?"

For a moment, he didn't answer. He only stared at her with the same intensity that he always did. Then, he suddenly blurted out,

"Marry me."

She smiled. She nodded, and they kissed again. The team was cheering, patting Kiyoomi on the back, and the cameras were trying to get a shot at every angle that they possibly could, but the couple didn't seem to care.

Once again, Kiyoomi had given into his impulses. When it came to (Y/n), he didn't have to think twice about his actions.

Notes: Again, @taelia15, thank you SO MUCH for your patience. I absolutely did not deserve it, yet you gave it to me anyways. I really hope you enjoyed this piece. You mean the absolute world to me, and I hope that I will be able to end my hiatus here soon.

REBLOGS, likes, shares, and feedback are always super appreciated!

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sugamii · 1 year

Note

i fink tomura is the most desperate kind of fuck <3 i think he humps your cunt ‘til his dick is flushed red & sore <3 he makes the little hero cum herself dumb on his mouth ‘n then dumps a load on your asscheek <3

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — smut, mdni 18+, overstimulation, cumplay, oral sex, multiple orgasms, fem!reader.

:(( ooweee shiggy is so nasty — he’ll keep cumming on you even after you’re all done and spent. slapping his lengthy cock against your swollen folds, groaning n whining at how you twitch under his tip while he spreads that thick whiteness all over your raw and ravaged pussy.

tomura teases himself too, gently plunging into your slick heat, just the tip though, and shallowly fucking you until his hips hurt from rutting into your puffy mound as it clamps down on him :( he’s made a mess of the pretty hero but he won’t admit how much you absolutely wreck him. make him a shaky mess of limbs on top of you, too weak to even fold your legs into your shoulders as he pushes his wet, sloppy cock deeper and deeper.

poor baby, even the slightest squelch from your cunt has his dick leaky all over again, spewing more of his thick hot seed against your insides— tomura fucking it deeper into you as it froths around the base of his cock and leaks down his heavy balls. but then he’s gotta taste you, shakily making his way between your thighs to suckle on that cute little clit, lick your pussy till she’s squirting about the place and forcing his cum to ooze out of your quivering hole </3

tomura’s so greedy :( licking it up before the mix can slide between your ass cheeks— humping the sheets to your sweet moans, he doesn’t care if it hurts to orgasm again, he just wants to soil the little hero and claim you with a load all over your pretty body.

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sugamii · 1 year

Text

— LIPGLOSS. + tobio kageyama.

↳ warnings: your fiancé doing your makeup is his love language, fluff, happy ending and cute tobio!!

at the start of your relationship, kageyama was shy.

he was quiet by nature, always fighting with his mind and his heart on what to say— mostly staying quiet when they couldn’t quite work together the way he wanted ( which often resulted in a rather serious expression - you’d now call it his emotional constipation expression ). when you first started dating, he’d stand awkwardly and tall in your living room while you’d rushed around to stuff your cute little purse with things you might need to top up your makeup— keys, wallet, phone, blush, lipstick, lipgloss.

the setter was usually poor at remembering things, but for some reason had your travel sized makeup routine down pact— reminding you if you’d ever forgotten to pack something before you left for your date, if you had picked up the right shade or wrong compact. tobio would watch with sweet and eager eyes, notice when your mascara bled or your lipstick smudged and would tenderly wipe it away with softly spoken compliments to melt your heart.

‘that colour makes your eyes sparkle.’

‘i like that thing that you do…with your gloss…it makes me wanna kiss you.’

it’s not until you move in with him, that you catch kageyama’s intense stare as you lean into the mirror he has hanging in the entryway of his apartment— he stands behind you, dressed an hour ahead of you before your afternoon date, his big eyes on your own through the reflection while you glide the lipgloss applicator over the swell of your lower lip.

“do you want to help, tobi?” you ask him, turning around to lean back against the sideboard, holding out the tube of gloss to your boyfriend.

all he does is nod, standing just a bit taller than you as you pass him the product and let him fix the makeup on your lips— your chest swelling with love at how gentle tobio makes the action.

that brings you to today, together three years and engaged for two, sitting in front of your vanity scattered with perfumes from dior and jewellery from tiffany as gifts your fiancé had gotten you over the years. kageyama stands in the doorway, near brooding as you tap cream blush into your cheeks, fixing the cuffs on his fancy shirt for the reunion dinner kurasuno and a few others plan to have at a nice restaurant tonight.

you can feel his pout from across the room, the rumble in his chest as you reach for your favourite liner and lipstick combo before the athlete clears his throat, grumbling like a petulant child. “that’s s’pposed to be my job,” tobio crosses the room before you can even look up, using three short strides to stand behind you— grasping at your favourite white-gold necklace with the blue crystal pendant. “you’re not supposed to do it without me.” his lips graze over your shoulder as he holds the piece to your neck— stormy eyes darting up to your face in the mirror in search of your approval. when you nod, a gentle smile on your lips, he undoes the clasp with ease and fixes the jewellery around your neck— helping you slide your engagement ring back on next.

“how could i forget?” you chuckle quietly when tobio spins the chair to your vanity around to face him, his arms caging you against the plush velvet while your manicured fingers move to fix his tie. “what were you thinking, tobi?”

your eyes meet his, so loving and adoring while he grabs a nude lipstick and a darker liner. “these, they’re your favourites.” kageyama hums, thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up to face him. “can i touch your lips?” it’s the way he asks you, even though he’s done this thousands of times over the years— the gesture makes you melt, always. you feel respected with tobio, like he sees you as an equal and treats you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever encountered in his life.

“of course,”

a thumb, slightly calloused glides over the swell of your bottom lip— before you feel him carefully apply a layer of spf lip balm, taking care of you in every way. kageyama, a perfectionist, takes his time lining your lips, ensuring that the dips at your Cupid’s bow are symmetrical and brushes away anything that falls out of line before he switches over to your lipstick.

“is this matte?” he asks, pulling off the cap and screwing the nude colour up a touch. he drags the silken formula over your lips, smiling at how the colour compliments you all the while fighting the urge to kiss you. “rub y’lips together for me baby. there, that’s it.”

you do as your fiancé asks, smoothing the lipstick over both of your lips before you answer him. “yeah, why?”

kageyama pouts. “‘cause i wanted to be the one to fix your lipstick if it smudged.” he confesses, sitting back from you to admire his work— at least that’s what you think…but he’s looking at you, his greatest gift, the person he loves most in the world, the person who wants him above all else. you, and something so domestic as this, has tobio kageyama’s stomach in knots, his heart a mess and his mind running miles an hour.

he loves you in all ways, roughly, passionately and tenderly— it’ll always be this way.

“you better kiss me during dinner then, in front of all your friends.”

tobio takes your chin between his fingers again, stealing a smooch and humming in content when your lipstick stays perfectly in place. “don’t threaten me with a good time, angel.” he coos to you, taking the tube of clear gloss from your dresser— in the same brand as all those years ago, and paints it over the colour, brushing a thumb gently over the corners of your mouth, gathering what doesn’t lie perfectly in place on his finger tip. “all done.”

you spare a glance in the mirror, happy with his work and turn around to wrap your arms around his neck— fingers tangled in your fiancé’s dark baby hair. “i feel pretty.” you tell him, stars in your eyes and shining on your lips.

“you’re so pretty.” kageyama says back, like it’s his truth. like it’s fact. he holds a finger up to your lips and you taking it into your mouth, letting him drag it back so you don’t get any lipstick on your teeth— licking the tip of it fondly. “behave yourself.”

you laugh, dazed and in love at just how delicately kageyama treats you— knowing you won’t be able to keep off of him all night.

“i love you,”

“i love you even more,” tobio kisses your nose, avoiding all of his hard work to still give you affection. “so bad it makes me want to kiss you.”

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sugamii · 1 year

Text

nsfw, mdni. 🤷‍♀️ more succession/vigilante au. natsuo eats you out and gives u some dirty talk LOL but there is a cw for spit (of course there is i wrote this!!)

Shoving through the Friday evening train crowd, you sigh and make yourself as small as possible hoping you’ll be able to board next. The closer you get to the platform, the more you feel as if you’re being watched and the feeling makes you shiver as you step onto the train and stand in the tiniest space you can find. It’s uncomfortable but it’s better than standing in the cold.

Digging your phone out of your pocket, you smile at the sight of your sisters bickering in your group chat. Scrolling through your apps, you roll your eyes when Touya’s name sits at the top of your trending topics and you lock the device and shove it back in your pocket. Closing your eyes, you rest them a moment and wait for the overhead voice to announce your stop. When you arrive you maintain your polite demeanor but walk off holding your bag close to your body, the sun low enough in the sky the streetlights are coming on.

Stepping quickly and awarely, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched as you turn and look several times. The gaze doesn’t feel unfriendly but it does make you feel uncomfortable as you get closer to your building and you spot a flash of white from the corner of your eye and you shout.

“Are you serious?”

Sneaking out from behind the benches and buildings he has been using to hide himself, Natsuo holds his hands up innocently. You want to stomp and make him leave but a giggle rises inside of you at the sight of him in full vigilante outfit.

“All that just to follow me home? Most men don’t even dress up.” He sighs and grabs your bicep, pulling you into a shadowy area of the sidewalk. Peeling a half mask off of his mouth, you catch the faintest hint of a remorseful smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to just ask you when I could do this and be less overt.”

Shaking your head, you groan and hike your bag onto your shoulder. “Keep the mask off. I live right there,” you point to a building only a few steps away and he stuffs the mask in his pocket.

“I can’t believe you.”

“In my defense I just wanted to make sure you got home alright and I know how cute you find Permafrost.”

You roll your eyes dramatically and look away from him to hide your flaming cheeks. He looks so good in his costume - cargo pants paired with a sleeveless tank top and boots. It’s so simple, you think, but makes it look good. Far less flashy than his dad and brother.

“Permafrost is pretty cute.” You’re pushing your luck to see how far you can get and Natsuo watches with intensity as you unlock your apartment, opening the door with the side of your foot. “No one to announce being home to but here it is.”

It’s exactly what Natsuo expected he’d see. Small, cozy, a bit cluttered. Very similar to your desk at work and there are photos lining every inch of your wall, you and your sisters grinning side by side. He glances over the picture as you take off your shoes and head toward the kitchen, flipping on lights as you go.

“Man, they copied your face,” he says with a half smile and he sees you shaking your head from the open space between your kitchen and living room. “I know someone else I could say that to. Be careful.”

Glancing at the picture one more time, he steals a look at your big smile and feels something flutter in his chest.

“Friday is my takeout night, by the way.”

You grab his attention and he hums in response as he heads toward the living room and he slumps down on the couch. He watches as you pull tea from the fridge and pour two glasses, bringing one to him.

“Your reward for keeping me safe.”

Gratefully, he nods and takes a sip. You laugh at the over the top way he smacks his lips together and you slink down next to him, folding your legs underneath you.

“Can I ask you something?”

The ice in Natsuo’s glass clinks together as he sets the tea on the table in front of him. You follow his lead and nod, folding your hands in your lap.

“Did you and Touya….” He trails off and you fight the urge to get defensive. Twice in one day you’ve been accused of fucking the most difficult man you’ve ever met and as offended as you are, you tread carefully. You like Natsuo. You’re attracted to Natsuo, the more correct way to describe your feelings, and there’s no way to get around it when he’s sitting in your shitty apartment lighting and he still makes the breath in your chest stick.

“No. I wouldn’t lie to you, Natsuo.”

Despite what anyone may think, he does believe you. You’ve been his ally since this entire situation began and trust is the least he owes you. Which is why his trust in your words emboldens him to scoot closer to where you’re sitting, his knees touching yours.

“Thank you,” he starts and you smile as his big hand finds a place above your knee. “For everything you've done so far.”

Shifting closer to him, you lean in his direction slightly and pretend you’re surprised when he immediately captures your lips with his own. A gasp leaves you and his hands cup your face.

“You okay?”

A nod is your response and he takes it as permission to continue, kisses deepening as your mouth begins to part wider and wider and your sweet little moans of encouragement spur him on.

He places small kisses on the corner of your mouth before turning his attention to your jaw, nipping at the supple flesh. The sensation is overwhelming, his cold hands gripping your overheated face while his warm tongue licks sloppy kisses into your neck.

“Natsuo,” you reach for him and wrap your hand around the back of his. He stops for a moment, head leaning against your still covered chest and your heart threatens to swell and burst at the heated look in his eyes. “What are we doing?”

He sighs, trying to remove his hands from your face but your grip tightens and keeps him in place. “I didn’t say I don’t want to,” your tone is low and a bit raspy and Natsuo feels his neglected cock jerk in his boxers at the sound. “But what are we doing?”

Holding onto him so he can’t push you away, your eyes meet. His freckled cheeks are dusted with a slight flush and you feel powerful knowing you’re the one flustering him.

“I want to thank you for your kindness by eating you out until you cry.”

He laughs at the way your eyes widen and he lifts his head until your lips brush again, your mouth open as his tongue rubs against yours and another moan is all you can manage.

Unpacking how you feel about Natsuo makes your brow furrow as he continues to kiss you. You think he’s so effortlessly charming. He’s silly, he’s compassionate, he’s different from everyone else he’s around. He notices you retreating, his hands slide from your face to your waist and he pulls you closer.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs against your lips and you kiss him back and match his pace. He breathes against your lips and you feel him lifting the edge of your skirt, prompting you to untuck your legs and spread them so he can get on his belly across the couch between them.

Your skirt inches higher and higher with every shift of his wrists and he smirks watching more of you come into view. Your pretty stockings, your panties he sees beneath them, he kisses the side of your ankle and watches you squirm.

“Look at you.” Natsuo praises you breathlessly as you assist him in removing your stockings, extending your legs and lifting your hips so he can hook them in his deft fingers and slide them down. Marveling at the soft, bare flesh in front of him, he kisses up your calf and heat pools in your belly as he keeps those storm cloud colored irises on you.

The kisses across your calf become as sloppy as the ones on your neck were, his tongue leaving wet spots behind. You groan at the sight, a sexy vigilante looking at you expectantly, and spread your legs wider as he comes closer to your core.

You’re dripping, the sticky fabric of your panties sticking to your cunt and you want to feel an ounce of shame for wanting Natsuo so badly but you don’t and can’t and won't. His cool breath lingers just above your clothed entrance and you arch your back, holding out your arms and threading your fingers in his hair.

“Don’t forget to yank a little,” he taunts from between your legs as his pink tongue leaves his mouth and licks a tiny strip over the wet spot on your panties. You squirm, eyes fluttering shut. “I like that.”

Noting his sentiment, you tighten your grip and pull his face closer to your needy pussy and a wicked smirk crosses his lips as he slips a finger inside of your panties and pulls them to the side. You marvel at the sheer size of the digit and it only sends your mind spiraling curiously about the size of other things until he brings you back by his side by spitting between your already sopping folds.

The feeling of the wet substance makes you groan and tuck your lower lip between your teeth, Natsuo’s gray eyes locked on your face. This is too perfect for him to willingly miss a single moment as he begins to sloppily kiss and slurp at your pussy.

“F-fuck,” you breathe as his tongue dances over your sensitive clit more times than you could possibly count and you feel yourself getting closer to the edge listening to the way he moans after every slurp and taste of you.

“So good, never wanna stop,” he taunts from your legs that are trapped in his iron grip. Your hips wiggle and grind against his face, you can even feel the slight stubble of his jaw graze against your delicate skin and the sensation is what spurs you to finish.

Natsuo’s lips smack around your overly sensitive clit and you use the grip on the back of his head to move him away from you, just enough to catch your breath. His chest heaves but before another breath leaves him, he’s crawling up your body and clutching your face to kiss you. The air leaves your lungs and your head swims and part of you wonders if this is the kind of kiss that your silly little novels are talking about.

“Now you can say Permafrost made you cum,” he mutters against your mouth but you shake your head and let your hands cup the back of his head.

“No,” you press your lips against his before releasing them with an exaggerated smack. “Natsuo did.”

He shoves his face into your cleavage to avoid you noticing the star stricken look in his eyes.

108 notes · View notes

sugamii · 1 year

Text

are there still beautiful things? || natsuo todoroki x reader

synopsis/content warnings: natsuo finds himself coming back to you in times of need. after all, you’ve been doing it for over a decade. (childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, domestic love, SMUT; heavy dirty talking, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint, natsuo is a bit posessive lol, yan!natsuo during dirty talk, idiots in love, not beta read we die like men)

wc: 3k

author's note: i wrote this as a gift for my dear friend @strawberrystepmom ! thank you so much for inspiring me, talking to me and being there for me. i wanted to show you that i really appreciated you :) <3 hope u like it

Natsuo has a habit.

Such a habit consists of knocking at your door, usually late at night – desperate, big eyes begging for help. He’s been doing it for years, ever since he was merely a lost kid. This time, his head is down and he won’t seem to fully look into your eyes.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” Todoroki breaks the silence, shaky voice leaving his chest with force.

Truth be told, you knew he’d show up at your small apartment as soon as the news broke, as soon as you saw the scarred man on the television proclaiming to be one of the Todorokis.

Touya.

You let him in – of course you do. There’s nothing in the world that would stop you from letting Natsuo in your home, and in your heart.

“Is it true?”

Your question seems to cut the tension in the air, as a knife ripping the thickness apart. Context isn’t needed: the white haired boy – man – is still staring at the coffee mug you handed him moments earlier. You’re past the point of asking how he likes his coffee, black and no sugar, thank you very much.

“No. Yes.” He finally looks up at you, dark gray eyes looking for an answer. “I… I have no idea.”

There’s silence once more - only this time, it isn’t thick with tension. It’s still heavy, with a hint of sadness. There’s only so much to be said about a dead brother coming back to life, and becoming evil. Still, you’ve known Natsuo long enough to know what he’s thinking.

“Touya was dead.”

You uncross your arms, taking your mug from the coffee table in front you. The coffee was running cold already.

Natsuo is still staring at you. You can’t help but notice there’s a certain resemblance between him and his father – his nose and eyes belong to his mother, yes, but the rest? It 's all Enji.

You can’t imagine how he feels.

“Natsuo…” You whisper his name, placing a gentle palm over his hand. “I don’t know what to say.”

He nods, recognizing your truthness. He sighs – a tired one, and exhausted one.

“I don’t think there’s a lot to be said.” His confession lifts a weight from your chest, and you’re glad you didn’t close your fist around something so delicate. “Just… I don’t wanna go home.”

It’s your turn to nod, knowing exactly what he means.

The first time Natsuo showed up at your door, you were merely kids.

Your mother answered. immediately recognizing him as one of the Todorokis that lived down the street. Years later, she would tell you the truth: his household was hell on earth. But, again, it wouldn’t take the brightest mind to notice that.

You were both seven. Or he was eight, maybe. You don’t remember all the details.

However, you do remember the dynamic: he’d come knocking at your door whenever things got rough at home. Your mom would feed him, you’d play video games together, and he’d get a chance at a normal life – even if only for a few hours.

“Do you wanna play pirates?” You’d ask, a toothless grin plastered on your face.

Natsuo would smile – as big as he knew how to.

“Yeah.”

Needless to say, you didn’t have to show him the guest room. He knows his way around.

You lean against the door frame as he takes his jacket off, throwing it on the chair besides the bed. He doesn’t look out of place, strangely so. The 6’3 man doesn’t look uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, you’ve never seen him look so at home before.

“Want me to order take out?” He asks, fishing his phone out of his backpack.

“Only if you’re craving something. Was thinking we’d cook something simple.”

He frowns, gray eyebrows knitting together.

“If you think I’m staying at your place and let you cook for me, you’re out of your mind.”

“Technically,” You hold a finger up, getting closer to him. “It’s for us.”

He scoffs, mainly in amusement.

“Absolutely not. My mother would have my head at the sheer disrespect.”

You chuckle, although not missing the shadow that crosses his eyes at the mention of his mother.

“Fine. Whatever makes you happy.”

“How come I’ve known you for almost 15 years and you still suck at Mario Kart?” He asks, in pure disbelief at your 8th position.

“It’s hard!” You cry, failing at avoiding another green turtle shell an NPC threw in your direction. The pink car stumbles once again. Peach has always sucked, anyway.

Natsuo finishes the race in first place, as you see Yoshi celebrate on the top of the screen

“You suck.” He adds, chugging at his can of diet coke and giving you a smirk.

You have to actively avoid acknowledging the butterflies rebelling in your stomach.

“And you’re mean.”

There’s a hint of playfulness in your tone. He takes the controller from your hand, getting closer to you. He’s so big and warm… so inviting.

“Cry about it.”

Despite the mocking, he finishes the race for you.

The first person to defend you from monsters was Natsuo.

Well, not actual monsters – more like shitty 5th grade bullies.

The whole playground saw it. An older kid – although the same size as Natsuo – tried to steal one of your toys. The white haired boy puffed his chest, and displayed the meanest face he could. Much like his dad.

“Give it back!” You screamed at the older kid.

Natsuo, however, didn’t ask. no, he punched the kid. Right in the stomach.

You remember gasping in surprise, but gladly taking your toy back. No one’s ever messed with you again.

It’s only fair you do the same to him every now and then.

“It’s getting late.” You notice, turning the television off.

“Yeah.” Natsuo gets up from your worn out sofa, towering over you. “I’m heading to bed.”

“Need an extra blanket or something?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He walks towards the bedroom door, turning on his heels halfway there.

“Uh… thanks for letting me stay, by the way. Really means a lot.”

You smile at him. He smiles back.

“Anytime, Natsuo. Knock on my door if you need anything.”

He nods, excusing himself.

Unsurprisingly, Todoroki knocks on your bedroom door a little after one in the morning.

“Natsuo?” You whisper, sitting up in your bed, still hazy from sleep.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers from the half-opened door, an apologetic look on his face. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Come in.”

He does, gently closing the door after him.

You barely notice the routine established by you and Natsuo.

It’s been a few days since he first came to your place.He didn’t leave – and it’s now like you wanted him too. Having him around is nice. Better than nice. You don’t wanna name what you’re currently feeling.

“I’m home!” He announces loudly, and you almost jump from your spot at the table. Your eyes scan him up and down.

“Natsuo, what’s all this?” You ask, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

He lets the paper bags on top of the counter, sighing happily at the sight.

“Went grocery shopping after visiting my dad at the hospital.”

Your shock doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by him, although he doesn’t seem to be in the mood to acknowledge it. Your eyes drift back to the laptop in front of you.

“Nice.” It’s all you can come up with.

“Got you your favorite chocolate, by the way.”

It’s been two weeks, and Natsuo doesn’t stay in the guest room anymore.

No, he stays with you. His giant figure can’t possibly be comfortable in your not-so-large bed, but you don’t have the heart to inquire about that.

“G’night.” He mumbles, curling up beside you.

“Night, Natsuo.” You whisper back, your words getting softly lost in the darkness.

Natsuo smells like mint and something fiery. It’s fresh, it screams his name. His white locks gently frame his face, looking like a layer of now. His lips seem soft, plushy and pink.

Natsuo is sleeping right beside you when you finally name what’s going on with the two of you, although only for you to know.

It’s love.

Sleepingly, he wraps an arm around you. Despite such surprise, you nuzzle your face in his chest.

You both sleep the whole night, peacefully – for the first time in a while.

There’s only so much he can hide from Fuyumi, he thinks.

“Did you officially move out?” His sister shows up in his room – his actual room, at the Todoroki household – as he’s packing another bag. The white room seems empty, soulless.

Natsuo is taken by surprise. Of course, it didn’t seem like that to him.

“Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding all eye contact. Fuyumi’s eyes look for his, behind thick glasses. She leans against the doorframe.

“Are you staying at ____’s?”

He nods.

“Good. It’s good to at least know you’re safe.”

Natsuo blushes at his sister’s words, warmth blooming on his cheeks.

“Tell her I said hi.”

With that, Fuyumi leaves him alone.

At the dinner table – with food that isn’t take out, cooked by the both of you – Natsuo gets himself looking at you.

Your eyes glistening and your hands moving rapidly as you talk about your day.

His heart swells on his chest when you start speaking about something you love – something related to work, something he can’t quite understand.

Natsuo realizes he loves you and almost chokes on homemade soba.

That night, when you start your bedtime routine, Natsuo breaks the silence.

“I…” He starts to speak, and you look at him through his reflection in the bathroom mirror, applying nighttime moisturizer on your face, in gentle circles.

“Yeah?” You encourage him to actually start speaking, moving your hands like a fan in order to dry the products on your skin.

“I love you, _____.”

You turn around, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Natsuo…” you say his name, like a thousand times before, only this time it feels different.

“I do. Always have, I think. Ever since we were kids. I love you.” He completes, taking a strand of hair from your face. You look at him, incredulous. “I’m not asking for you to love me back, by the way. I just wanted to let you know that I do.”

He’s comfortable with just loving you.

The words seem to come back to you at such an insult.

“I’m in love with you too, idiot.”

He seems shocked at such revelation, and a stubborn smile starts to blossom on his lips. His eyes seem different now.

“You do?”

“Natsuo.” You whisper his name again. “I’ve loved you ever since you asked if I wanted to play pirates.”

He bites his lips, grabbing your waist gently.

“Yeah? What about all the boyfriends? All the other crushes?”

You figure what the hint in his irises mean.

Possessiveness.

Natsuo towers over you, and it makes your stomach do flips. You mumble something, and he brings you closer.

“Sorry, couldn’t hear that.”

“Was trying to distract myself. From you.”

He smirks, gray eyes becoming wolf like.

“Yeah, but I’m here now. And if you think I’m letting you go, you’re fucking insane.”

Your lips crash into his; desire traveling through your veins.Your tongues dance against each other, slowly and curious to taste each other. Your breath hitches in your throat as he bites your lower lip, sensually.

“Bedroom?” You whisper against his lips, in between pecs. He nods, smiling against your lips.

Natsuo’s shirt and your pajama bottoms get discarded somewhere from the bathroom to your bed.

Your nails gently scratch his abs, earning a reaction from him. His hips jerk against yours, and you bite back a moan. He looks at you adoringly, passionately. Your heart explodes in fireworks. All the movies and poems, books and songs about love make sense now.

“So pretty.” He mumbles against your neck, placing open mouthed kisses on your sensitive skin.

Natsuo takes his shirt off while your hands discover his body, reaching his gray sweatpants. The volume behind the soft fabric makes you smile, devilishly so.You gently grab his erection, playing with him a little, in order to discover more of his pretty sounds.

He groans, grinding his hips against you.

“You’re evil. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Whatever leverage you thought you had is gone once he takes his bottoms off, as his dick gloriously stands against his abdomen, with heavy balls hanging below it. Your mouth slightly falls agape at his thickness as he gently strokes his cock.

Natsuo finally removes your panties, slowly. He’s taking his sweet time with you, despite your constant squirming and whines.

“You know,” He whispers, husky voice sending a shot of desire right to your core. “when we graduated high school and you told me you lost your V card to some jackass, I tried my best not to go after the bastard. After all, it wasn’t my right to.”

His fingers ghost over your now exposed pussy, feeling your sticky wetness.

“And before that, you confessed to me how you’d use the showerhead to finish, cause your fingers couldn’t do it. They’re not thick or long enough. Can’t reach all the right places, right?”

You nod, eating his words up. Slowly, your hips start to move against his hand, but Natsuo seems to not be having any of that. He places a strong hand on your waist, holding you down. He doesn’t need words to make you obey him.

“I wonder if mine can?” He asks, pushing a single finger inside of your gummy walls. Whining, you throw your head back due to his unsatisfactory rhythm. He pushes the digit in and out, curving his finger a bit.

“What, baby?” He purrs, swallowing your moans with open-mouthed kisses. “What d’you want?”

A bubble of warmth starts to bloom on your lower abdomen, sending a white-hot feeling through your entire body. There’s sweat, there’s spit, there's desire. You feel like your body might combust at any given moment.

“More, please. Need more.” You manage to babble, eyes getting glossy over the neediness.

He obliges your wishes, shoving another finger into your needy cunt.

“Fuck baby, yo’ure so fucking sexy. ‘ve been dreaming about this for so long.” He confesses, shortly after sucking a love bite on your collarbone.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, feeling your pussy clench on his thick fingers. Right as you feel the tension start to explode inside of you, he removes his digits.

“Natsuo!” You cry, in a needy way. “C’mon, please.”

You’re not even sure what you’re asking for anymore. He smiles at you, sickeningly sweet. His white hair glues against his forehead, messy silver locks. Natsuo’s face is flushed with desire, a light shade of pink decorating his cheeks.

“Want my cock, baby? Huh? Want this as much as I do?” His clean fingers gently hold your jaw open, as he places the stained ones on your mouth. You suck on them, tasting yourself and making such dirty sounds that make him grunt.

“Yes, please. Want your cock inside me. Want you to fuck me, Natsuo” You beg, mumbling through his fingers. “Make me yours.”

The last words seem to fire a light inside of him, as he smiles at you wolfishly. Natsuo grabs his erection, teasing the tip on your wet entrance. You give him a fucked out smile, softly moaning at his actions.

“You’re such a tease, _____. I’ve been fantasizing about your sweet, tight pussy forever.” He groans, finally pushing his fat cock inside of you. It stretches you in the most delicious way, hitting spots you’ve never reached before — nor your or anyone else.

He grabs your legs, folding them against your chest, and you whine at the new found angle. It’s so deep, he’s so big. It’s overwhelming.

“Fuck, Natsuo! So good, so fucking good.”

He makes a strangled noise in return, picking up the rhythm. The slapping sound of his balls against you is filthy, and it only adds to the feeling. Natsuo – who’s usually very well composed and controlled, looks wild and predatory.

“Yeah, am I fucking you good baby? Am I fucking you dumb, so dumb you can’t even talk properly?”

You whine, only nodding in response. The bubble of warmth starts to grow on your abdomen again.

“Fuck, fuck.” He groans. “Are you on the pill?”

Rapidly, you nod, silently consenting what you know he’s actually asking for.

“Gonna feel you up so good, baby. Gonna make you mine.” He places a couple of digits against your puffy clit, rubbing them in circles, and you cry even louder.

“Cum for me, baby. Can feel you clenching down on me. Go ‘head, I got ya.”

You feel the Earth stutter on its axis as a white hot feeling explodes on your tummy, making your legs shake. Waves of fire travel through your entire body, as your vision slightly fades to black. You can feel Natsuo spill inside of you, with a groan of your name against your ear.

You stay like this, for a moment, lost in blissful silence. Hissing, he removes his now soft dick from inside of you, his cum spilling out. Slowly, your breathing comes back to normal and you sit up, finding your lover with a wet cloth on his hands.

Gently, in between soft kisses and praises of “you did so good for me” and “love you, love you so much”, he cleans you up, just enough so you won’t be too uncomfortable before summoning the energy to go shower with him.

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you too.”

Natsuo looks at you, adoringly, slowly taking in the fact that you’re his. The only thing he’s ever chosen in life, the only thing that actually belongs to him, he won’t have to share.

He smiles at the feeling.

“Mine.” He whispers, before kissing you one more time. “Now let’s take a shower, stinky.”

880 notes · View notes

sugamii · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄?

pairing: tenya iida x reader

word count: 2.0k

a/n: this was meant to be a lot shorter but it ended up being longer and took way more time than expected so hopefully this came out. i had a chubby reader in mind writing this. i've never wrote for iida before so i hope this turned out okay! anyway i won't spoil the plot or anything other than reader gets stuck. i wrote this late at night so i didn't reread and edit it thoroughly but hopefully it should be okay! if there's any mistakes i'm sorry ‧₊˚✩‧₊˚♡‧₊˚

warnings: dub con, power dynamic, pro-hero iida, unprotected sex, teasing, over stimulation, stuckage (i think thats the kink name <3 reader gets stuck), light impact (spanking), rough sex, 18+ mdni

Iida prides himself on his morals. Sure in the past he made a mistake involving stain but that was all in the past. However, he can't help but question his moral compass whenever he sees you, he wants to do things to you, things that he doesn't even want to admit to himself. It would be wrong though, he's your superior, you're a sidekick. The power dynamic is very clear, it would be wrong.

Whenever he sees you though it becomes so difficult for him to worry about the power dynamic when you look so pretty wearing your hero costume hugging your figure in all the right ways. It takes everything for him not to stare at you, especially when he's walking behind you and he can see your hips move as you walk and he swears he can see the outline of your underwear. Even at the new years party last year, your dress was shorter than Iida would typically deem appropriate but your plush thighs being more visible than he'd ever seen before made him keep quiet.

Iida loses all composure he has when you're patrolling together late one night, it was a quiet night and a uneventful patrol. Most of the time it was silent, Iida preferred not to talk much when patrolling just in case something happened, he liked to be alert and he took being a pro-hero very seriously. You never complained about the lack of talking it was always a comfortable silence walking beside him.

You heard a suspicious noise and decided to check it out, it turned out to be a cat but you wished you knew that before you tried to go between a gate. One second you were following the noise with Iida behind you, but as you heard it running away you began pursuing it, and whatever the noise was was on the other side. It was too tall and there was no way to climb up before the person or suspicious thing gets away. You wouldn't be doing your job correctly if you just left. The bars looked big enough to squeeze through, so you did, as soon as you did a cat emerged and realised this whole time a cat you were chasing a cat. You hear Iida behind you, he hadn't used his quirk, you realise that's because he realised there was no point. He knew it must of been a cat. he's just too good at his job.

You chuckle, as you look at the cat. "It was just a cat."

"Yes, i thought as much."

You chuckle again as you lean out the bar attempting to pull yourself out but failing. You try again harder this time, trying to wiggle out of the bars. This was incredibly embarrassing, at least for you. Iida noticed your predicament but stood on the spot as he watched you try and move. He couldn't help but look as you tried to get out, your ass shaking as a consequence and your whole body jerked side to side.

"This is so embarrassing, I can't get out. please help me out a bit Iida."

Before he even knew what he was doing he spoke, "what's in it for me?" He started berating himself for such an inappropriate question, maybe there's a way he can recover from this, he feels like a pervert. It was an immediate response without thinking and he doesn't know what will happen now, his reputation will surely be ruined.

Out of all the things he was preparing himself for he did not expect you to burst out laughing. 'Thank god, there's a way to recover this, it will just be a inappropriate joke. It's still bad but it's better than the alternative,' Iida thought to himself.

However he was even less prepared for the next thing that came out of your mouth, "I mean, you are right. It wouldn't be fair of me to not give you anything in return." He practically hears your grin.

Iida's mind was filling with so many thoughts, mainly- 'Fuck. This is bad. There's no way I can keep thinking like this but she was being so suggestive. maybe she was joking too? fuck, I want her so bad.' He looks over at you and sees you one more time. You're stuck there, you're not getting out anytime soon, he can do whatever he wants and you can't stop him, you look so hot. he makes up his mind as he sees you continue to try and wiggle from the bars, at least trying to get into a more comfortable position one that's not digging into your ribs.

He doesn't even say anything to you as he walks behind you and starts touching your ass, grabbing it, and making you gasp in surprise. You have a feeling he's not a talker during sex. His hands feel so warm on you, even through your hero costume. Iida surprised you again as he ripped off your hero costume, undoing the zip down the side, starting up at you neck and pulling all the way down, ripping it in the process. You shiver from the cold, only being covered by your underwear but Iida warms you up almost immediately by running his hands up and down your body. The logical part in Iida's mind tells him that this shouldn't be happening, especially in public where anyone could see but you looked so pretty and soft and felt so warm he couldn't stop himself at this point.

He kisses your back and kneads any part of your body that he can get his hands on you. Typically you'd feel self conscious from someone giving this much focused attention on your body but it's so hard to when Iida's treating you with such care, like kissing your stretch marks and tightly grabbing onto your hips. Iida's still mostly silent as he explores your body, leaving soft kisses in his wake. "Even softer than I imagined." He mumbles, he probably didn't even realise he said it out loud, either way it made your face heat up.

One of his hands makes their way down, grazing one of his fingers over your underwear, getting harder than he was already as he hears you moan at the action as you try to move closer to his touch, all in vain of course. He's decided this is his favourite thing ever, touching you but not enough to get you off, you want more but you won't get it, he has complete control over your pleasure. He focuses his whole attention on this idea, one of hands circling your nipples over your bra, and with his other hand he's still hasn't touched you skin to skin either. You start whining, you don't mean too but its all too much, you need him to touch you but he doesn't. You don't know how long this goes on for, it could be 5 minutes it could be half an hour all you know is you're getting louder, begging more, and getting more wet.

Iida finally decides to take pity on you and drags down your underwear, as soon as he makes direct contact with your clit you whimper at the stimulation. This whole time he's getting a serious kick out of controlling your pleasure. You're so wet, he knows that he could probably just fuck you without you getting hurt. He realises that he can do exactly that, it's not like you can stop him.

He discards his hero costume as quickly as possible, never regretting how finicky his costume is this much before.

You try your best to turn your head around trying to see what Iida looks like underneath all his clothes, you've always wondered, but you'll have to keep wondering as no mater how hard you try and turn your head it's not working and you can't see him. Because of that you didn't realise how big his dick was going to be but he suddenly plunged into you, hurting you with how big he is and the stretch being painful.

Iida gave you no time to recover and adjust to his size, he knows he's bigger than average, but right know he just has to be buried in your pussy and start moving. The air leaves your lungs as he thrusts into you quickly, hard and fast, the pace knocking the air out of your lungs. He grabs hold of your love handles, you know they'll bruise but you quite like that idea. Your body moves slightly pushing the bars, still stuck, but he see's your breasts bouncing between the bars, making him increase his pace to see your body move and jiggle more.

The stimulation he's been giving you all night is all to much, it's so much and it feels so good. You're chanting his name over and over again. He abruptly stops his thrusts making you try and move yourself back onto him, he pressed his hand down your back trapping you even more so you can't even try to wriggle out. "it's sir to you." You could definitely do that, he still doesn't move. He harshly spanking you he speaks in an authoritative tone, "do I make myself clear?"

"Uh-huh"

"Good girl."

You really hope he starts moving again because you think you're about to cry if he doesn't. Luckily for you he does, but unluckily that still doesn't stop you from crying, your eyes watery, tears falling down your face from Iida's touch. Your chants of 'Iida' turned into chants of 'sir' and now it's hiccups of 'sir' between your gasps and whimpers.

Its a surprise for both of you when you start asking Iida if you cum, you've never asked permission to cum before, you'd honestly never dream of it but it just feels so right with Iida. Iida wasn't expecting the request but he wasn't one to turn it down, he wanted to feel you clench around his cock. He takes one of his hands off your hips and reaches to your clit, "go on then, be good for me," just like that, as soon as he gives the slightest attention to your clit and give you permission you come undone, cumming around his cock so hard that your eyesight goes white for a second due to the pleasure with the most intense orgasm you think you've ever had. Iida fucks you through it, keeping his pace, groaning as he feels you clench up around him.

You start whining more and squirming due to the over stimulation. Everywhere is so sensitive. "I'm about to cum, you can give me another one right?" He asks in a ragged voice. You weren't really sure what he was referring to, all you could do was feel the extreme sensitivity and pleasure. "I'm taking that as a yes." He reaches down to your clit and starts to touch you again, it's so sensitive and it hurts.

"No, no, fuck Iida its too much." You near enough scream out. Iida ignores you and keeps going, however he doesn't have to long, as you soon cum for a second time just as intense as the last one with your body shaking, barely having any energy left.

Iida feels you around you tighten up one more time as he quickly pulls out and cums on your ass, watching his cum start to drip down your ass down to your soft thighs.

"Iida can you get me out now?" You ask but your voice seems quiet and he starts worrying. He gently helps you out and looks at you. You look so exhausted, you've got tear stains all down your face and you're completely naked. After seeing this his rational brain starts up again and he realises how fucked he is. He just ruined his hero career...

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