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depravitycentral · 10 months

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Haikyuu Dick Headcannons Pt. 3

Ft. the Seijoh men (Tooru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Issei Matsukawa, Takahiro Hanamaki, Kentarou Kyoutani, Yuutarou Kindaichi, Akira Kunimi)

Tw: implied yandere, implications of stalking, lots of talk about cum, masturbation, oral, praise, a sprinkle of degradation, PSA Oikawa cries during sex, very slight misogyny in Kunimi's, fem reader, MDNI

Tooru’s cock is, just like the rest of him, pretty. It’s pale, slender, rigidly straight with a perfectly shaped bulbous tip that always makes this lewd schmuck noise when he pulls out of you. As he gets closer to coming his tip gets a little pink, but it’s nothing compared to the flush sitting high on his cheeks, or the rosy red of his lips. He’s got a single vein that runs along his underside, so it doesn’t marr the smooth appearance but still gives you that extra bit of stimulation when he’s fucking you. It’s just an overall outstanding cock, and he knows it, too - he’s confident in his body in general, but this is particularly true in the context of his penis. He takes good care of himself, shaving and making sure to use expensive oils and lotions to minimize any ingrown hairs or razor burns. He even uses a special genital cologne, just to make sure he smells good too. (The scent is one he thinks you’d like - he’d brought you to a perfumery one time as a joke because he thought seeing you scrunch your nose at some of the smellier ones was entertaining, but he’d been keeping note of which ones you’d found agreeable when he shoved them at you.) He’s not terribly sensitive - particularly when you’re sucking him off, because while it feels amazing to have your lips wrapped around him, he’s gotten enough head through his life that he’s just jaded and too used to it to find it especially pleasurable. But being inside you? That’s a different story - he hasn’t actually fucked that many women, and as a result the moment he slips inside you for the first time he’s gasping, his eyes blowing wide and this strangled, vulnerable little noise coming from his throat. He still takes a while to come, but he’ll gasp and murmur praise in your ear the entire time he’s thrusting into you, because you just feel so good and warm and tight.

He’s a shooter, and it makes this perfect, porn-worthy little arc as he throws his head back and moans your name. He doesn’t produce much in terms of volume, but it’s pretty runny, so it’ll often feel like there’s more there than there really is. His cum is very smooth; there’s no lumps or globs, and when he rubs it against your skin (because he likes seeing you covered in it, and he claims it’s good for your skin - rich in nutrients and makes you glow) it almost feels like a thin lotion. When he comes his whole body freezes up, every muscle going taut and tensing up as the pleasure overwhelms him. He’s still for a moment, but after the first initial wave he’s suddenly moving like a madman, his hips bobbing and thrusting wildly and unpredictably, desperate to get any last bit of pleasure they possibly can. He’s always clutching onto you, too, like he needs to ground himself or else he’ll get carried away by the pleasure. (This often leads to finger shaped bruises appearing on your hips and ass, sometimes even your breasts, and while he’s apologetic about it, he doesn’t feel bad.) He makes this high, airy sort of moan when he’s coming, and his eyes always shut tightly, his thin brows scrunching together and his mouth morphing into a sort of grimace. He looks like he’s in pain, but he’s not - it feels so, so very good, and he’s just trying to stop himself from moaning something stupid or crying. (He does cry sometimes, if the sex is particularly emotionally charged - the first time you tell him you love him gets him sobbing as he bends your knees up to your chin, plugging you full with his cock, and kissing you the whole time, whispering to you in a strained, broken moan I love you I love you I love you, fuck tell me you love me again-)

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re simply good for him, taking his cock and letting him do as he pleases with you. He likes when you’re receptive to his touches, and ideally you’d be spread out before him on the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist and your fingers alternating between running through his brown locks and scratching down his back when you’re getting close. He likes the way your cunt flutters around him, your walls rubbing him and massaging his length in a way that makes him breathless, and sometimes his arms even go a bit weak and he nearly falls down on top of you because you just feel too damn good. He likes when you thrust your hips in time with his, trying to get him in deeper and feel him to a much fuller extent. It makes him feel wanted, like he’s doing a good job of pleasuring you, and if you moan? Tooru’s gone, burying his face into your neck and moving from the languid, sensual pace he’d been fucking you at to a more purposeful, calculated one, aiming for that spot he knows you love with every snap of his hips. He especially likes it when you come on his cock - the way you clench down on him makes him light headed, and sometimes - when your orgasm is powerful enough - you squeeze him hard enough to force him out of your cunt, his cock still swollen and throbbing, your slick coating him while he watches you fall apart below him. He likes the way you spasm around him, and more often than not it lulls him into his own orgasm, spurting cum into you and gasping your name with his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple. He just really, really likes when you willingly pull him closer and encourage him to fuck you deeper; it’s a surefire way to get him breathless and crying out your name.

He’s solidly five and a half inches, with dark hairs framing his base and naval. It’s the perfect shape, with a slight curve upwards that hits you just right when he’s got you spread out on your back, bulbous tip ramming into that spot over and over again. It’s incredibly easy to arouse him - his cock’s got a mind of its own, and often there’s blood rushing south from the slightest things, like you licking your lips (he can’t not imagine how they’d look around his length) or mindlessly playing with your fingers (they’d look so small against him, running along his chest and gripping around his cock; he bets you couldn’t even touch your fingers when you grip him). He gets hard embarrassingly quickly, and stays hard, even if he desperately tries to get rid of it. This causes quite a few awkward moments when he’s around you, and he tries to wear baggier pants whenever there’s a chance you might be present - just because every encounter with you more often than not leads to him popping a boner at least twice. He’s moderately sensitive, and particularly likes when you give his tip and base attention at the same time. He likes when you suckle at the head and lap your tongue up and down his slit, all while your fingers massage and grope at the juncture between his shaft and his pelvis. It makes him shudder, eyebrows drawing together, and gets his hips bucking forward slightly. Especially if you rub at the spot right above where his balls and shaft meet - it makes him actually growl.

His cum is thick and pretty bitter, landing on your tongue and leaving a residue like thick oil. The taste is hard to get out of your mouth, unfortunately, and when you tell Hajime this he’ll immediately feel guilty for how much he likes to finish down your throat. After that, every time you suck him off he’ll come on your face - he justifies it as being less invasive of your wishes, and because it seems to actually be good for your skin. (One time you’d had a nasty pimple, and after a spurt of his cum landed on it, the next morning it disappeared.) It’s okay, though, because his favorite place to come is actually on you, specifically on your pussy. He likes pulling out at the last minute and finishing himself off, watching as cum dribbles onto your pretty lips, making an absolute mess out of you and leaving you all sticky and warm. He’ll run his fingers through it sometimes, staring with this look of awe, intensely enough that you’ll get embarrassed. His ultimate, though, is when your spread your lips for him, exposing your quivering, swollen little hole, and he comes all over that - it’s dirty, taboo, and it makes his possessive urges towards you calm down a bit because now you’re marked as his, and anyone else can see the globs of his cum that are pressed up right against your most sensitive, intimate area. Of course, though, if you want him to come inside, he’ll never say no. He’s a gasper, his breath always getting caught when he’s fucking you. When he first shoves himself inside, he’s gasping lowly and biting his lip, trying to control himself and hold back the orgasm that’s already dangerously close. He’s not too terribly vocal for the most part, but when he gets close to coming he’s stuttering out your name, each syllable punctuated with a grunt and a gasp, until eventually he’s coming, his eyes blowing wide and a strained slur of your name falling from his lips. He stares the whole time, unwilling to look away, and it’s not until the oversensitivity overwhelms him that he lets the moment end.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s giving himself a pussy job, using - of course - you. In general, he’s utterly fascinated by your cunt - he’s always staring at it, and although he’s certainly no virgin, there’s something about your folds, specifically, that makes him salivate. He’s always trying to rut his cock against you, obsessed with the feeling of the most intimate part of you touching the most intimate part of him, and he wants nothing more than to have you spread out before him, your eyes blown wide and legs spread for him, pretty body on display for him as he fists his cock. He wants to run his tip through your folds, to collect all your slick and wetness at his head, watching the way it mixes with his own pre, leaving him a sticky, wet mess that shines and gleans in the light. He’ll grip himself at the base, harshly exhaling as he runs himself slowly, so damn slowly, up and up, letting himself dip deeper inside every few centimeters, just enough to tease both him and you. He’ll run himself all the up to your clit, muttering out a curse as his tip draws circles against your little nub, his slit feeling so sensitive and needy that it makes him crazy. When he’s doing this, he tends to murmur your name a lot, growls of how pretty you look, amazed comments of how you’re already so wet for him, and curses of how fucking tiny your little pussy are always slipping past his lips. He’s amazed by how he can possibly fit inside you - you look so small and tight, and his cock looks much too big in comparison, and the idea of stretching you out gets him gulping, his cock visibly throbbing. Eventually he’ll cave and shove himself in, apologizing through grunts that he just can’t hold himself back anymore, that he can’t keep teasing himself, that he needs to be inside you and feeling how warm and wet and perfect you are. He’ll come very quickly after doing this - it only takes a few minutes, and soon he’s groaning your name and spilling inside of you, spurts of hot, thick cum plugging you up while he breathes in your scent and basks in you.

He’s a tall man, and his cock reflects that - it’s long, easily six and a half inches, hanging so heavily between his legs that even when he’s fully hard, swollen and practically begging to sink itself inside of you, it’s only standing at about 120 degrees, too weighed down by it’s own size to fully stand up. He’s not especially thick, but he’s veiny, with the raised skin criss-crossing and feeling perfect when they rub up against your spongy, sensitive walls. He’s not too terribly sensitive, but he likes steady, consistent pleasure stimulation, like a constant pace when he’s fucking you, or when you bob your head steadily, tongue lapping at his underside with fervor. His tip is always a darker shade than the rest of his shaft, the color matching his balls, and Issei particularly likes when you pay attention to those two areas. He’s extremely sensitive when it comes to any sort of stimulation to his balls, and the moment that your fingers brush them or your tongue flicks at them, he’s groaning, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tells you to do that again, angel, fuck just like that. He likes when you suck on them, trying to fit as much of each one into your mouth as you can, and just the sight of your lips wrapped around one while you suck and thumb at his tip with your hand makes his head spin, his orgasm drawing closer and closer at an alarming rate. He has a thing for making you kneel below him, and he really likes to be the one standing over you - there’s something about the power dynamic that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life, and when you look up at him all sultry and dirty like that, it takes everything in him to not force your lips apart and fuck your throat like an animal. (And sometimes, the urge is too strong - you’re left with a bruised throat and a hoarse voice, but everytime you talk to him like that it makes his expression darken, his cock growing hard once more and soon you’ll find yourself bent over the nearest surface, ass cheeks on display while he breaths hard and nudges his tip at your hole, determined to give you a bruised cunt to match your throat.)

His cum is thick too, but sometimes the consistency can be a little strange. It tends to glob up a bit, and because he dribbles when he comes, this can sometimes result in little spurts oozing out of his tip. The volume of cum is quite high, and because of this, when he comes inside you, you can really only describe it as him stuffing you full. (He’s seen your tummy swell before when he’s creampied you - you don’t really believe him, but he swears your stomach got bigger. And just the thought of that - that he stuffed you full enough to stretch that little pussy of yours out - is enough to get him growling and sucking dark hickeys into your neck, his possessiveness shooting through the roof.) He’s not especially vocal in bed, normally preferring to stay quiet and just listen to you, but as he gets closer his breathing starts getting really heavy, pants coming from his lips that sound more and more labored the closer his orgasm looms. Right before it hits, he’ll close his eyes and groan, the sound low and full of timber, making a shiver roll up your spine because it sounds so primal, like some sort of animal. And when he’s actually coming, he’ll groan again - except this time, it sounds vaguely like your name, the last syllable sounding upturned as the pleasure makes his mind scramble. His hips will slow down to nearly a stop when he’s coming, because he tends to get oversensitive really easily and he needs a moment to catch his breath. His eyes are closed the whole time, eyebrows scrunching together and looking a bit like it hurts, but the way his thighs tremble and the way his jaw goes slack tells you just how good you’ve made him feel. He prefers coming inside you, but as long as his cum gets inside of you somehow, whether that be in your cunt or down your throat, he doesn’t really mind.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s on his back, and you’re perched with your cunt over his face and your mouth over his cock. He’s a fan of the classic 69 position, because while it isn’t the most sexually satisfying option, there’s something that he finds really endearing about the idea of pleasuring each other equally. He loves the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and the combination of that plus getting to taste your cute little pussy leaves him light headed and aroused enough to throw you down onto the bed. He likes to get on his back and give you a look, hoping you’ll understand what he wants without him having to articulate it, but if you don’t seem to get the message he’ll grab you and manhandle you on top of him, a hand gently pushing your face down to rub against his cock while his tongue slips between your folds. He’ll admit that the position is a little distracting, because it can be hard to focus on pleasing you when you’re doing such a good job of pleasing him, but he’s normally able to stave off his orgasm long enough to get you falling apart on top of him. He’ll aim for your clit and will sometimes bring a finger up to gently rub and curl against your walls, anything to get you shaking and moaning his name. (Plus, if he gets you wet enough, your slick will actually drip down onto his face - he fucking loves this, because it feels like you’re showering him with evidence of how well he’s touching you, coating his face with your slick because you want him to know that what he’s doing is enough.) He likes the way you gasp and struggle to stay consistent around him when he’s touching you like this, and feeling your fingers tremble as they stroke him and squeeze at his balls makes him sigh and buck his hips slightly. If he gets close, however, and feels like he can’t hold off any longer, his free hand will come down and hold your head in place while he thrusts up into your mouth, balls slapping against your nose as he fucks your face to his heart’s content. He just likes the intimacy of this position, and you’ll find yourself in it very often - especially towards the beginning of your ‘relationship’.

He’s just barely over five inches, but he’s pretty thick. It’s girthy, and when you first see it, the first thing you think of is how the hell he’s going to fit something that wide inside of you. It’s always a pink rosy color, even when he’s not hard, and although he’s embarrassed at first, he actually really likes having domestic moments with you where you see his cock both erect and flaccid - it makes him feel closer to you. (Plus, it normally only takes mere moments for it to go from soft to hard when you’re involved, which is what tends to happen nine times out of ten.) He doesn’t do a very good job of grooming himself, and takes pretty much no time to actually shave or trim or anything of the sort. It’s a bit of a mess down there, but he showers often so it all smells good and is clean. He doesn’t want you to shave or trim either - he firmly believes sex should be natural, and he wants to see you as you are, not as you present yourself. He’s decently sensitive, and while he’s got a bit of experience, he can get overwhelmed pretty easily when he’s inside you. He twitches a lot, especially once he’s settled between your walls - you can feel him moving inside you, bobbing and spasming as he gets closer to his orgasm, and sometimes his whole body shakes in time with them. It’s nice, actually, because it makes it easy to identify what kind of dirty talk gets to him - the moment you let any sort of praise slip past your tongue, he’s twitching and throbbing inside of you, acting as encouragement to get you saying more, to tell him that he feels good and that he’s gonna make me come ‘Hiro, please please please! (Begging normally gets him throbbing, too.)

He shoots, and there’s quite a bit of force behind the stream - it feels like the perfect amount of pressure in a shower, and he’ll always force himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch the way it spurts out of him and lands in ropes on your pretty body. His cum actually tastes surprisingly sweet, given how poor his diet is. It’s on the saltier side, but it’s nothing too outrageous. (You told him that once and he made some joke about how it would make the perfect replacement for that salt shaker that always seems to run out. You didn’t find the joke particularly funny, but the thought lingers in his mind for a while, and suddenly he can’t stop imagining the way you’d look actually eating his cum, not even in a sexual context. The thought makes him flush and have to clear his throat, but he can’t deny the allure.) This is great news for you, because Takahiro loves to come in your mouth. There’s something so dirty about seeing his cum dripping from the corners of your lips, down your chin, your pretty pink tongue coming out to lick it all up - and oh, if you hum or moan at the taste? He’ll melt, a few droplets of whatever remaining cum his body can scrounge up landing on your face without any warning. He’s a moaner, and while it embarrasses him, his voice always gets high when he gets close to coming, sounding less like moaning and more like whining and whimpering. He’ll always try to bury his face in whatever surface is closest by, though he tends to prefer your breasts or the small of your back, whichever is accessible. The moment he’s actually coming, though, he’ll always pull back to watch, because even being a fully grown adult man, he’s still in awe of how your body just seems to affect his, almost like you’re pulling the cum out of him with how hard he orgasms.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you ride him. He’s not necessarily lazy in bed, but he likes to watch you and let you do most of the work until he needs to step in. He’ll lay back with his head on some pillows and let you straddle him, your cute tummy and pretty tits on display as you slowly slide down onto him. He likes when you grind a bit on him first, your folds rubbing and massaging against his length, and if you watch his tip you’ll see a copious amount of precum oozing out, showcasing his steadily growing desperation to get inside you. Once you slip him past your tight entrance and he bottoms out inside you, he’ll sigh and pinch at your hips, his voice cocky as he tells you to get on with it baby, wanna feel you bouncing on me like a good little slut. It’s uncharacteristic, with how most of his tendencies in the bedroom tend to air on the more submissive side, but the moment you’re actually moving? Well, all traces of cockiness and dominance are gone - he’s gripping onto your thighs for dear life, eyes fixated on the way your breasts bounce and jiggle, maybe even smacking against your ribcage if they’re big enough. He likes the way he’s able to get deeper inside you like this, the penetration going further and making you cry out his name because you just feel so damn full. He’ll stare and watch you, his cheeks bright red, unable to focus on anything except your body and the way his orgasm is drawing nearer and nearer, and eventually he’ll get close enough that he needs to take control. He’ll sit up and wrap his arms around your waist, face pressed against your chest and maybe even a nipple in his mouth as he moves you up and down like some glorified sex doll. He’ll control your body fully, his own hips snapping up to meet yours in a crazed chase of his orgasm, until finally it hits, and he’s moaning your name and his balls are pulsing against your ass as warm cum floods you. He likes the vulnerability of this position, the way he can be touching so much of you at once, and because he gets to see all of you, even the parts of you that you try to hide in other positions. (Like that cute stomach of yours or the fat of your thighs.) You just look sexy, and the way you pulse and clench down onto him like a fucking vice when you reach your own high only spurs him on, desperation for round two and three and four hitting him like a truck.

He’s a little under five inches, but he’s mean with it. He doesn’t have much experience, but he’s nursed a small porn addiction for most of his life, and although he knows porn isn’t realistic, he can’t help but fuck into you with reckless abandon every time he’s got you naked in front of him. He’s not too terribly thick, but he’s veiny, to the point where he almost looks like those veiny dildos you can get online. His tip is extremely sensitive - swiping your thumb across his slit or squeezing at the head makes him splutter, his cheeks turning bright red as his hips jerk forward. It’s easy to turn him on, because he’s really bad at hiding when he’s aroused. Seeing you in anything form fitting will make him feel hot and have him alternating between averting his eyes and staring at every inch of you, but the real nail in the coffin for him is when you touch him in falsely innocent ways. Place a palm to his chest and smile at him and he’s immediately hard, or run your hand over his hair and he’s practically panting, unable to stop imagining the way you’d grip at his hair and beg him for more when he’s got his face between your legs. He gets hard easily, but he’s normally able to make it go away pretty easily too, but his face stays this rich red color and he gets more skittish around you than normal, so you’ll be able to tell ninety percent of the time. He’s actually pretty meticulous about upkeep - he’s not clean shaven but the hair is very short, perfectly trimmed so that you have unrestricted access to everything below his belt. He does this both because it makes him feel cleaner, and also because he wants to be as enticing to you as possible so that you’ll be more inclined to touch him. He’d gotten drunk one night in his early twenties and decreed that he’d be getting his dick pierced, and a buddy had gotten it on video, and he wouldn’t let his pride be wounded, so now he’s got a Prince Albert piercing on his tip. It hurt like hell, but he really likes the way it feels inside you - it makes him more sensitive, he thinks, and you always seem to squirm when you feel the cold metal, the extra stimulation making you moan and clench even harder around him.

His cum is thick and there’s a lot of it. It doesn’t taste great, and the first time you tasted it you couldn’t help but grimace slightly. Kentarou noticed, and while he didn’t say anything about it, he’s been trying to alter his diet to include more foods he’s read help sweeten the taste of cum. He prefers to finish on your body rather than in you, but he’ll never not finish inside you if that’s what you want. Really, if you ask him to finish anywhere specific, he’ll do it in a heartbeat, excited that you want it. He just likes the way you look with it smeared across your skin - again, that porn addiction has left him with a bit of an objectification kink, and while he doesn’t view you as simply a toy for him to fuck, there’s something that quells his possessiveness towards you when he’s covering you with his seed. He tries to avoid coming in your mouth though, just because he doesn’t want to see you grimace like that again. When he’s fucking you, he doesn’t usually say much, but he isn’t super quiet - he grunts a lot, always sounding a little bit like he’s in pain, and he keeps his eyes tightly closed for much of it. He’ll mutter your name under his breath, too, but it’s quiet enough that unless his mouth is close to your ear you won’t be able to distinguish what he’s saying. But as he gets closer to coming, those grunts turn more into growls, and right as he’s on the edge, he’s literally growling your name, along with slurred fuck’s and yeah’s and too damn tight’s. He’s not too expressive, but if his orgasm is particularly powerful he’ll end up sinking his teeth into the skin of your shoulder - not enough to break the skin or hurt, but enough to leave a mark when he pulls away, and enough to muffle the moan that bubbles up in the back of his throat. His whole body tremors when he’s coming, everything from his fingertips to his toes trembling and shaking slightly, the force of his orgasm nearly blowing him away. It takes him a long time to actually finish coming once it starts, too - he comes so much that it just never seems to end, him emptying into you for easily twenty seconds before the last few drops finally come out.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take your time and just absolutely worship his cock. He’s never been embarrassed of his body or anything, but he likes the idea of being soft with you, and while he’s just a bit too awkward to take the time and worship your body, he likes when you do it to him. (It’s not that he doesn’t want to worship yours - he does, absolutely, more than you could ever understand. But putting himself into that position where you’re watching his every move and judging him, letting him explore and pleasure you and do whatever he wants with you makes him nervous, the pressure settling on his shoulders to do well making him chicken out at the last second. But when it’s you worshiping him, he can just sit back and watch, letting you do your magic until he’s eventually gasping your name and getting cum all over himself as you fist him and press kisses against his thighs.) It feels like such an intimate moment, and it helps convince him that you actually like him, that you’re actually returning the love he’s so frantically forcing onto you. He wants you to keep eye contact the whole time, looking up at him from your place on your knees, his own body seated in a chair with his legs spread so you have easier access. He wants you to kiss every inch of him, your soft lips pressing against his thigh, balls, cock, navel, everything you can reach. He wants you to pump slowly, telling him how warm he feels in your hands, how he’s so big and makes you feel so good, the compliments flowing off your tongue like sugar and making his face turn bright red. He wants you to suckle on his tip and lick along his slit, teasing him with not quite enough pressure, telling him how good it feels when he brushes against that certain spot inside you that makes you see stars. He wants you to squeeze and touch his balls, telling him how these always make you feel so full, they fill me up so well, Kentarou, I love it when you come in me. He just wants you to praise him and touch him all softly and slowly, showing him that you really love him. Give him hope that his one-sided feelings might be more reciprocated than he seems to think.

It’s solidly five inches, and curves very slightly to the left. He’s confident enough with it, but Yuutarou finds himself wishing he was just a bit longer, just a bit thicker, just a bit more. He spends a lot of time looking at himself in the mirror, and especially once his feelings for you form, he’s always idly wondering what you’d think of him. It’s a pale color, and when he gets hard it turns a gradient of pink down to his tip, where it’s flushed and always swollen within seconds of blood rushing south. He keeps himself clean shaven because he doesn’t want you to be grossed out when he eventually has you in front of him, naked and yearning for his touch. He wants everything to be clean and attractive and perfect, because the first time he gets to touch you and fuck you, everything has to go perfectly. He’s decently sensitive, and he especially likes it when you pay attention to his base. Gripping him there and idly squeezing while you talk to him will make him breathless and light headed, his voice strained and tight when you ask him if he’s wanting to fuck me? Do you want that, Yuutarou? Do you want to make me a mess on your cock? You’re so dirty when you talk to him like that, but it drives him crazy - and when you grip him tighter and tighter and tighter, it only furthers the feeling. He likes it, too, because your hand almost acts as a sort of cock ring, barring him from accidentally coming much too early - something that’s happened often when he was still left to his own devices with only the thought of you and his pillow to work with.

His cum is watery and there’s not a huge amount of it. He comes pretty easily, all things considered, but he has a decently short recovery time, and if the worst case scenario occurs (he comes before you), he’s immediately getting onto his stomach and diving between your legs, tongue eagerly working at your clit and his fingers slipping past your swollen folds to curl and rub at you until you’re moaning and clutching onto the pillow under your head. He’ll let himself calm down, and within five minutes he’s normally able to get hard again, and while this time he’ll likely be shooting a blank, he will keep fucking you until you come for him - and this time he’ll have his thumb working at your sensitive little clit the whole time, his pride out the window because he needs you to come, dammit. When he comes he makes this weird little half-shout half-groan, the sound loud and a little bit jarring. He tries to keep quiet for the most part during sex, because no matter how many times you try to tell him that you like his noises, he’s too embarrassed to freely let them out. Besides, he’d rather hear you anyways. But when he’s getting close, he does tend to start blabbering, his voice slurred and the words coming out so quickly that they’re hard to understand. He’s trying to get every thought out in those last few seconds before he comes, because he has all these compliments and sweet nothings that come to mind when he’s fucking you, but he’s too engrossed in the moment and nervous to actually say them, so he waits until the last moment and all you can hear is y’so tight ‘n good, ‘m gonna come in you, fuck let me come, y’so pretty when you’re drippin’ with me and fuck fuck fuck, here it comes take it take it take it-! He writhes when he comes, unable to stay still, his muscles flexing and relaxing over and over again, leaving him to shake on top of you and then promptly collapse onto you. He’s exhausted after he comes, but he’s still attentive to your needs, and even if he’s on the edge of passing out, he’ll make sure to get his fingers stuffed inside you and his lips on your nipples, absolutely anything to guarantee you’re feeling good.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take control. He’s always a little doubtful of his own abilities, nervous that he’ll do something that you don’t like, even though you aren’t the first girl he’s slept with. He’s just a bit paranoid that he’ll make a mistake and eliminate any form of attraction you feel for him, and so he likes it best when you take the wheel, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him, leaning down to kiss him and suck hickies into his neck. He likes when you grind on him, your hips moving against his in circles, your very thin panties (that he’d picked out, with a red face, the last time he’d visited a lingerie shop, having bought a few sets for you after learning your panty and bra size) rubbing up against his boxers, the navy material already stained a darker blue with a copious amount of precum. He wants you to move his hands for him, your grinding never stopping as you situate his large palms against your breasts (already bare, your - his - t-shirt haven’t been discarded across the room), squeezing over his hands to encourage him. He wants you to slowly sink down on him, before setting up a brutal pace, bouncing on top of him with reckless abandon while you smile down at him and hold eye contact. He wants you to move his hands to grope at your ass, while you reach behind you to play with his balls, squeezing lightly and feeling the way he tenses up and warbles your name. He wants you to suddenly switch your positioning, so that you’re facing away from him, your ass exposed to his prying eyes while you roll your hips again, the new angle making access to squeezing his thighs easier. He just wants you to manhandle him, really, because while he may be well over six feet tall and is finishing up his collegiate studies, he’s nothing more than putty in your hands, eager to do anything and everything you want.

He’s roughly five inches, with a moderate girth. Overall, he’s thoroughly average - tufts of brown, curly hair sit at his base and a vein or two decorates his shaft, which slims out a bit as it extends, ending in a round, mushroom-shaped tip that’s always covered by pretty, pink foreskin. He produces a lot of precum, to the point where once you get your hands on him, you’ll be surprised to feel that it’s almost like he’s already slicked himself up with lube. There’s just so much of it - but that’s because once Akira gets hard, he stays hard. No matter how hard he tries to distract himself or will away his erection, it takes at least fifteen minutes for it to go away. Even after he comes, he stays hard for a while - he gets oversensitive very easily, so he’ll try to swat your hand away if you reach for it when it’s still coming down after his release, but secretly he hopes you’ll reach for it again because he’ll begrudgingly let it happen the second time, content and pleased that you want to keep touching him. He stays hard, but actually takes him quite a bit to get hard - even with you, the woman he finds so sexually arousing and desirable that it makes him sick sometimes, he has to have a good mix of stimulation and thoughts to get him ready to go. Generally, if you want to get his cock swelling up and turning a deep pink color, kiss his neck and palm over his crotch, whispering his name in the most sultry voice you can manage, maybe even flicking even lightly biting his earlobe as you whisper into it. He’s not too sensitive, and because of this he tends to last a long time in bed, to the point where if he’s really concentrated and you’re in the right mood, he’ll get you to orgasm at least three times before he gets close. He doesn’t groom himself all that much, figuring that if you really have a problem with it you’ll let him know, and while he keeps everything clean and sanitary, sometimes you end up with a bit of hair in your mouth when you’re sucking him off.

He doesn’t produce a huge amount of cum, but it’s decent tasting, enough so that you genuinely don’t mind swallowing it. This is good news, because Akira really, really likes when you give him head. His favorite place to come is definitely your mouth, and the feeling of your lips and tongue against him are often the quickest way to get him to orgasm. He’s a fan of pushing himself as deeply into your mouth as he can and then releasing, so that all of it goes directly down your throat, because he likes the idea of his cum being in you, even more than just in your cunt. He’s also satisfied with pulling back and coming all over your face, because while it isn’t quite as satisfying as finishing in your mouth, there’s still something lewd and dirty about it, especially if you open your mouth and let your tongue loll out. He’s pretty quiet in bed, mostly just breathing hard or muttering commands under his breath - they’re never too harsh, just things like keep going or say that again. But when he comes, he takes this long, harsh inhale - it’s not quite a gasp, but it sounds too uneven and heavy to be a normal breath. He’s not one to moan too much naturally, but he tries to push down any sort of noise if possible because he doesn’t want to turn you off in case you don’t like it - even if you try to reassure him, he doesn’t really believe you, and he’ll still do the long-inhale-thing rather than let out the little whimper he really needs to. His whole body jerks when he comes, and this normally ends up lodging him even deeper into whatever hole he’s buried in, which adds extra stimulation to his already sensitive cock, making him hiss and grit his teeth. His face gets red as he gets close, too, and it’s a telltale sign that he’s feeling good when his cheeks start blooming pink, all the way down to his neck and over his collarbones. He gets sweaty, too, exertion and holding back any sounds taking a lot of effort, and often his bangs will get stuck to his forehead.

Akira’s favorite way for you to touch him is when you take his cock into your mouth. There’s something about the power dynamic that gets to him, because while he doesn’t inherently view himself as any better than you (he may not show it, but he worships the ground you walk on, if all the stalking and tedious collecting of your information are anything to consider), something just feels right when you’re suckling on him like that, your pretty eyes sparkling up at him through your lashes and tears pricking at your lash line every time you take him just a bit too far down your throat. There’s something endearing about the way that you take him so well, relaxing your throat and bobbing your head over and over, and he especially loves it when you get messy. He likes your spit to be everywhere, dripping down his shaft and onto his balls, dribbling down your chin, just getting everything wet and sticky. He likes the sight of you pulling back and panting hard, a thin strand of saliva and precum connecting his tip to your lip, the sight making him gulp and clutch onto the corner of the chair he’s seated in so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He likes the way your lips are so soft against him, how your tongue is wet and warm and so very dexterous, licking around his tip and dipping in against his slit. He just likes the way you give him so much attention when you’re using your mouth; it makes him feel special and pleased that all your time and effort is going into him, to please him and make him feel good. And if you were to reach down between your legs, your fingers playing with your clit while you bob your head and use your other hand to lightly grope at his balls? Well, hopefully you take getting your throat fucked as well as you do bobbing your head, because the mere sight will have him losing control and needing to fuck something, and your pretty little face is the nearest thing.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere iwaizumi #yandere matsukawa #yandere hanamaki #yandere kyoutani #yandere kindaichi #yandere kunimi #haikyuu smut #_haikyuu #_lee's headcannons #_tooru oikawa #_hajime iwaizumi #_issei matsukawa #_takahiro hanamaki #_kentarou kyoutani #_yuutarou kindaichi #_akira kunimi

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ilylovelyz · 9 months

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haikyuu as dog/cat breeds (prt 2.)

prt 2 lets gooooo - i really like pondering 🤔 about their breeds (includes aobajohsai and shiratorizawa) - c prt 1.

aobajohsai

oikawa - he's such a ragdoll. pretty and nice coat, not too long/fluffy or thin/short. won many cat competitions. he's real sweet and friendly with your guests but once they leave he'll attack your leg for treats. he's manipulative? really smart too. a very loud cat and loves to play. can be a total brat and knock your shit over just to fuck with you. absolutely traumatizes your dogs if you have any, gets really pissed off if you smell like another cat and almost borderline bullying if you do get another cat.

iwaizumi - either a tosa or dutch shepard. he's really energetic and you thought he would calm down as he grows but nope! he's still dragging you out of bed for walks lol. somehow gentle and rough while playing with you. doesnt really bite you, only nibbles. not rlly protective of you but wary of strangers, not really hostile and open to guests. barks a lot, but will quiet down if you shush him cuz hes a good boy. def has a silver chain for a collar cuz hes cool like that 😈 really good with kids, never runs away because he's content with the life he has.

akira - a really lazy snowshoe cat. can be really mean but sweet afterwards cuz he feels bad. the type to run away if you start to cry. sleeps majority of the time and usually only eats when hes awake. really curious but doesnt like it when you have guests. likes to sleep in the middle of your bed and will fight back if you try to move him. doesn't like being picked up. at first he wasnt really cuddly but now he'll be all up in your business if you lay down.

kentaro - boerboel. he's super aggressive and protective of you, barks at everyone who isnt you. he's super rough when playing and has given you a few scars. really heavy but i can see him being kinda cuddly. he'll sit at your side, ears perked up and doing that half bark thing dogs do when something catches their eye. definitely has a chain and you have to use it a few times cuz he doesn't listen that well. fights with any dog, but does have this specific friend thats not even a dog, but a cat 😭 loves to play fetch. doesnt run away because his instincts to protect the house are too strong. not the best with kids 😬

mattsun - simple black cat that is really chill. not necessarily friendly but doesnt run away from strangers. super sleepy and his meows are really deep for some reason. not super vocal but will occasionally meow for your attention. not too cuddly but sweet. when he cleans himself it's super loud and almost obnoxious and always at night when ur trying to sleep. not very fond of dogs. doesn't necessarily get scared of anything unless he's being toyed with.

hanamaki - a simple labrador. not necessarily full of energy and lays around, not even sleeping, just watching you. kinda judgy of you for some reason and always side eyes you. not really cuddly either and just overall just exists. occasionally howls tho. sometimes he'll have the urge to play, but it's not really playing but rather straight bullying cuz he's a jerk 😒 was a really cute puppy and you miss those days a lot

shiratorizawa

ushijima - please i was so excited for this one, he's a saint bernard. a really big and heavy one too. was even big as a puppy. doesnt bark often but when he does it's loud, only really barking for your attention. he's really good with commands. likes walks and occasionally plays. he doesn't get along too well with other dogs, just because he just stands there and watches. gives the sweetest puppy eyes ever. again, really heavy, and growls when someone gets into his personal space. but he is really patient, but will run away from little kids. has teeth, but doesnt know how to use them 😕

tendo - a greyhound. a really silly one that is so cuddly, he's practically glued to you. hes so energetic and always slipping. real vocal but not too loud. gets really sad if someone doesnt wanna play with him ☹️ really great with kids and really protective of them. not necessarily protective of you. chases after cars 100%. HE HAS A FAVORITE TOY. has kinda severe separation anxiety 💔

semi - hes a beautiful grey tonkinese cat. his personality is really dependable whether he slept well. moderately playful and just really nice. hes really chill, but can get a little annoyed if someone is bothering him. not scared of fireworks or loud noises, moderately vocal. he can be a bit of an asshole tho 💔 but its okay cuz hes pretty 🫶🏼

shirabu - obviously the biggest asshole so hes a chausie. you got him cuz he was really beautiful and calm as a baby, but you woke up the same night you got him to him clawing at your toe that was poking out of your blanket. bites hard and makes you bleed. gives many battle scars 😒 surprisingly very vocal and has screaming matches with you. not necessarily very playful but he does chase you from time to time. bro he has such a mean face 😭 not fond of people or other animals. sometimes cuddles, sometimes.

goshiki - a jack russel terrier 😭 please he's all bark no bite 🤦🏽‍♀️ tries to act tough and menacing but the only thing thats menacing is the way hes a squeaker 🌚 real playful and kinda protective, but theres not much he can rlly do cuz hes a small dog. cant even fight off a cat (shirabu), and will cry out if something bigger than him goes after him. hes a real good boy tho, absolutely smitten for you and has separation anxiety if ur gone for a little too long.

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dabiekql · 19 days

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Recommendation - Jujutsu Kaisen/Haikyuu/Boku no Hero Academia/One Punch Man/Attack on Titan/Tokyo Revengers

Navigation

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🔮 Jujutsu Kaisen

Singledad! Sukuna x Neighbour! Reader

Sukuna - affaire de cœur

Sukuna - How Sukuna Loves

Sukuna - Having Soft Spot on Concubine Reader (NSFW)

Sukuna - Sukuna & His Love Languages

Sukuna - What If He Lost Someone

Yuta - Cursed Spirit (NSFW)

Gojo - Won't You Say It Back?

Gojo - Wanna Be Yours

Geto - Wings

Geto - We're In Trouble Now

Geto - Sorcery Schemes

Megumi, Itadori, Sukuna, Geto - When They Accidentally Yell at You

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🏐 Haikyuu

Ushijima - Story Time

Kageyama - Communication (Omegaverse)

Alpha! Kuroo - Come See Me

Alpha! Kuroo - Please Don't Let Me Go

Oikawa, Iwaizumi - Let Me Help You (Omegaverse) / Oikawa, Matsukawa, Hanamaki

Bokuto, Ushijima - Back Me Up (Omegaverse)

Sugawara, Ushijima - Time Bomb

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💥 Boku No Hero Academia

Bakugou - One Word to Describe Bakugou

Yandere Barbarian! Bakugou - Iron

Alpha Dragon! Bakugo x Thief Omega! Reader

Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x Female! Reader

Overhaul - When Kai Wakes Up in Another Universe

Overhaul - Wedding Day

Hawks - Courting Troubles

Alpha! Dabi x Omega! Reader

Alpha! Tamaki Amakiji x Omega! Reader

Dabi, Shigaraki - He Tells You to Run During His Fight and You Get Lost

Hawks, Overhaul, Dabi - How the Boys React to You Doing the Break Up and Get Back to Your Ex Thing

Omegaverse - Anything from this Author is Great

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👊 One Punch Man

Yandere! Garou - Turning the Tables

Yandere! Garou - Please Don't Save Me

Yandere! Garou - Child's Play (NSFW)

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🔰 Attack on Titan

Levi - The Perfect Blend

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🏍️ Tokyo Revengers

Chifuyu, Mikey, Mitsuya, Baji, Izana - Mythological AU! #2 Omegaverse

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heich0e · 1 year

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CUTTING TEETH - mastuskawa issei/f!reader/hanamaki takahiro (4.2k) vampire!au, vampire!matsuhana, new vampire!reader, poly matsuhana, mmf!threesome (barely), smut, finger sucking, fingering, mentions of blood/blood drinking, lots of talk about teeth and mouths, reader is going through a bit of a breakdown, sweetheart and good girl used as petnames, matsuhana give off slightly yandere vibes but they aren't actually, and reader is physically restrained at one point but it's not non/dubcon! part of the 'more than you can chew' universe 18+ NFSW - MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

Time passes differently now.

It makes sense, you can’t help but think in those precious moments when the haze lifts and grants you a reprieve of much needed clarity; It’s only logical that something would feel different now that you are too. Seconds ticking past but mean nothing when you stay unchanging. Time no longer has any meaning now that you’re frozen in it. And so nine days slip by, and they’re all a blur; one bleeds unintelligibly into the next, but they feel like what once were seconds in another life.

You’re burning.

You’re hungry.

You feel as if you’re coming undone.

But you’re safe. You know that to be true too. Even in the haze, even in the vicious delirium and the burn, there are hands that cradle you and the gentle brush of lips against your skin. You’re surrounded constantly by the scent of pine, the whistle of the winter wind and soft, familiar voices.

They’d told you it would be like this, prepared you for it. But knowing something in theory and knowing something in practice are very different things.

You’re curled up in the corner of the smallest room in the house. It’s the only one with tatami floors, though you suspect at one time—before extensive renovations that shaped the home into something beautiful but unrecognizable—there once may have been more. This room is used for storage now, mostly; there are a few boxes piled up along one side, an extra futon folded up in one corner, and antiques in pristine condition that don’t seem to otherwise match the decor. Those are half-covered by drop cloths to protect them from dust or damage, but there’s a vanity along the wall that’s been half-revealed as the sheet pools on the floor, revealing beautiful knotted elm, a pristine mirror, and careful woodwork underneath. There’s a faint scent of must that hangs in the still air, and the little room is dark—the sole window along the opposite side covered by thick curtains to block out the sun.

But you prefer the dark now.

You see too much in the light.

The air in the dim room shifts suddenly, and you lift your face from the crook between your knees where they’re drawn up to your chest.

“There you are—”

You heard him even before he opened the door. Heard him on the other side of the house before he even started making his way to you.

“—I’ve been looking all over for you.”

The man on the other side of the room keeps his distance as he appraises you. It’s a gesture that is not done unkindly. Everything Matsukawa Issei does is considerate, as ever.

He knows the hell you’re suffering.

“What’re you doing in here, huh?”

Issei makes his way towards you at an easy, lazy pace, even though the room is so small. The way he takes his time approaching you is unimposing, even given his height and his breadth, like a trapper approaching small prey that had mistakenly gotten locked in their snare.

Your throat feels raw when you finally speak. To be honest, you aren’t entirely certain when the last time you spoke even was. It may have been a few days. Perhaps only hours.

You wonder when it will get easier to keep track, now that the flow of time feels so foreign.

“My jaw hurts.”

Issei crouches down next to you slowly, and your senses follow him; his warmth, his scent, the steady sound of his breaths. He draws closer and closer, his presence growing more unignorable until he’s mere inches away from your face. His proximity effortlessly eases the ache that thrums under your gums. His nearness soothes the inferno that has scorched a hearth into your chest.

“Your jaw?” he repeats your words, a careful hand reaching out towards you. His movements are cautious but sure, measured but gentle. His broad palm caresses your cheek, his touch soft against your skin. You lean into it, into him, as unconsciously as drawing in a breath.

It’s quiet as he holds you.

“…My teeth.”

Issei hums. The sound is a deep, sympathetic purr that makes your skin prickle just underneath the surface. His hand slips a little further down your face, until he’s cupping your jaw rather than the soft swell of your cheek. Your eyes finally meet his, and you’re lost in them as the pad of his thumb presses against the pucker of your mouth.

“Can I?” he asks, his head tilting to the side.

Your lips part for his willingly, wordlessly, welcoming him in.

The tip of the digit slips underneath your top lip, and you can taste the subtle saltiness that clings to his skin. Issei watches your expression as he traces along the front of your upper row of teeth, ghosting along the smooth enamel and mapping the peaks and valleys as one tooth gives way to the next. His touch sweeps a little further up and the investigation continues as he skims along the soft pink of your gums. The warmth of his hand and his closeness has your mouth filling with saliva that threatens to drip at the corner of your parted lips.

He presses, firmer now than he has yet, against a tender spot along your gums.

“Mmmmmph—!”

You clutch his wrist tightly with both hands, holding him still as you pant raggedly against his palm. Spit freely runs down his skin now, and your chin, catching in the low light of the small room you’ve locked yourself away in as it drips slowly to the floor. That all-consuming burn is still there—haunting your lungs and up the track of your throat—but you’re holding onto Issei tighter than you’ve ever held anything.

“Easy, easy,” he soothes you quietly, his other hand reaching up to pat along your hair. Your grip slackens, but you keep his hand pressed desperately to your mouth like a lifeline. His thumb is still resting against that sensitive, aching spot, and once he senses it’s safe for him to continue he sweeps the pad of it against that place again. There’s a throb deep beneath the muscle that twinges, and it’s painful but surprisingly not unpleasant. Your jaw relaxes slightly, though your breaths are still shuddering, and it grants him even better access to your mouth than before.

“Good girl,” he praises you for the utterly unconscious gesture, sweeping the digit stuck beneath your lip slowly along to the same spot on the opposite side of your top row of teeth. It hurts there too, but Issei’s touch is gentle and compassionate; soothing as it glides against the slick flesh.

The little room around you fades away, little by little, until all you know is him.

Your vision grows hazy, your eyelids suddenly heavy as Issei continues to explore your mouth. The pain that had been so all-consuming just moments before is easier now to bear, your senses dulling to anything that isn’t him. There’s so much saliva pooling under your tongue that you can hear how wet it is as the man before you moves his thumb around inside.

Eventually he’s satisfied, a pleased little hum telling you he’s found what he was looking for, and as if to reward you he slips his thumb between your teeth and rubs it against the surface of your tongue. You close your lips around it happily.

“Gentle,” he urges, and you heed his warning—careful not to bite down or otherwise move too eagerly with his finger caught in your mouth. You suckle it gently on nothing more than sheer instinct. It feels nice—soothing, familiar somehow even though it isn’t—and he sighs contently. “That’s it.”

You stay like that for a while, holding his wrist as you suck against the warmth of his thumb where it rests against your tongue. You grow even more delirious the longer you indulge yourself—the demons that have been clawing at you incessantly for the past nine days quieting until you can scarcely notice them at all.

“Your teeth are coming in,” Issei eventually speaks again in that easy, gentle way he always does, but you hardly register his words through your daze.

You make a small noise of confusion once his words reach you somewhere you can understand.

“Your fangs,” he explains as he smiles softly down at you, watching with nothing short of fondness in his gaze.

You blink, processing his revelation though your brain is foggy and your thoughts are syrupy slow.

Issei slips his thumb out of your mouth only once you allow him to, dipping forward and dragging his tongue along your bottom lip to catch the spit that has steadily been dribbling out. He doesn’t kiss you, not really anyway, even though the gesture feels so intimate and his lips are practically upon yours. It’s as though he senses you want to say something, because as soon as he’s cleaned you up he’s pulling away and looking to you expectantly.

“My… fangs?” you sound uncertain, your voice thready and confused as you repeat what he’s told you.

Issei lifts his thumb up to his mouth; the length of it is covered in the sheen of your saliva, all the way down to his wrist. He cleans that off too as he nods.

You shiver a little.

“Are they going to fall out?” you ask him worriedly, a tightness of anxiety weaving itself into a knot in the centre of your searing chest.

“Yes,” he says, sparing you no detail and offering you no misguided pleasantry in the interest of your own sake. He cups your cheeks in both hands this time, keeping your eyes on him, and he uses his thumbs to curl your upper lip and reveal your teeth again—one holds the lip up out of the way while the other dips down to trace over the canine tooth just below that wretchedly aching spot in your gums. “Just think of these like milk teeth.”

He traces along the razor fine edge of your incisor with the very tip of his finger, then across to your canine—careful, even with all his own strength, not to nick himself on the sharpness.

“Right now, these teeth are meant to shred—to rip and tear through skin and bone and whatever else might be in your way so you can get as much blood as quickly as possible. So you can get stronger,” he says, and his low, gentle voice softens the gruesomeness of his words into something palatable and easy to swallow. “But your fangs will give you acuity. Precision. You’ll be able to puncture just enough to draw what you need when you feed as you mature.”

You whimper a little when he presses down against your canine, as though terrified it might begin to wiggle under his touch.

“You’re cutting teeth, that’s all,” he says simply, and you wish his words were more comforting to hear than they are. He slips his finger out once more and allows your lip to return to its rightful place. He tuts lightly. “But it’s painful, isn’t it?”

You nod a bit, your head dipping as much as it’s able with his hands still cradling your cheeks on either side.

“Poor little thing,” Issei breathes, crowding you a little closer to the wall where you’ve been curled up in your misery. “Want me to make you feel better?”

Your back rests flush to Issei’s chest, two of his fingers pressed deep into your mouth. He has your knees hooked over his thighs and his legs spread to keep you open, and tips of his talented fingers orbit in rhythmic circles around your clit.

It all sounds so wet.

Your mouth. Your pussy. Your shuddering breaths. The racing thump of your heart.

The coil of tension in the pit of your insatiable stomach has nearly wound tight enough to break.

How many times has he made you cum in the past nine days? You wonder distantly in your mind. How many more times will he make you cum in the innumerable ones that now lie ahead?

Your head pitches back against Issei’s shoulder as his mouth laves down the column of your neck. You feel the familiar drag of his teeth along your throat, and the sensation still makes your heart race—even though the thumping is little more than vestigial; even though his teeth wont pierce you the way they used to when there was still blood that he craved rushing underneath your once fragile, delicate skin.

“Feel good?” he murmurs into your skin between kisses, and your hips jump in place of an answer—as clear an indicator to your agreement than any words you may be able to offer in reply. His fingertips press a little firmer against the sensitive bud at the apex of your dripping core.

“‘Sei,” your voice is reedy and wanton as you call for him around his fingers.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

You don’t know. Or maybe you do, but your ability to verbalize it has abandoned you along with your sanity.

But you’re needy. You need more. Need something. Need anything.

You shift in his lap, as much as you can given the way he’s holding you, and grind against the firm swell of his cock nestled behind your back. Issei pulls his fingers out from your mouth, the pads of his fingers slipping softly against your lips.

“Yeah?” his reply is deep, breathy, “that what you want?”

You nod, fervent and crazed.

Strangely, you feel a little more normal like this—a little more like who you used to be. He used to make you feel this frenzied back then too, but now he doesn’t need to be as gentle with you as he once was. In spite of that, Issei still touches you like you’re something breakable. Something precious.

“Hiro will be back soon,” the man above you whispers as he gently lays you flat against the tatami flooring, his nose brushing yours. “Are you hungry?”

It hardly needs to be asked. You’re always hungry. At least you have been for the past nine days. There’s a little pile of crumpled silver packets on one side of the room, long-drained, as evidence to this fact. Hiro’s been bringing you more blood each day, fresh blood—that tastes better than the synthetic stuff you find yourself guzzling in the hours in between—but it still doesn’t feel like it’s enough to satiate you. Not enough to douse the burn that torches your throat.

You’re not sure where he’s getting it, and you don’t ask. The truth is you don’t even know where you are.

Prior to turning, Issei and Hiro had asked if you prefer the sea or the forest. The smell of salt air or pine sap. You’d answered the forest, with fond memories of wandering around the green space in the countryside where your grandparents lived when you were a child. When you’d woken up nine days ago in this big house in the middle of the woods, you realized why they’d asked you to begin with.

You’re far away from civilization here.

Or rather, civilization is far away from you.

Because you’re the thing that needs to be kept away. Isolated. Contained. All in the best interest of the beating hearts and pumping blood that floods the city you’d once known.

The thought of blood rushing under skin, of throngs of people saturated with it, makes your mouth water.

“Issei,” you moan, your sharp teeth gnashing involuntarily at the thought as you cling to him a little tighter. “Please."

The man hovering over you shushes you gently; a soothing placating sound. “I’m sorry, I know it’s hard,” he murmurs, slipping a hand under the silk of your robe, “it’ll get easier, I promise.”

Issei knows it better than anyone, you think. His words a little more comforting because you know he’s speaking from experience. He’d been just like you once: bloodthirsty and on the brink—a mind in tatters as it fights to acclimatize to the sudden change of being turned, attempting to knit itself back together into something new. Takahiro had turned him only 100 years ago, after all.

Only—a part of your brain scoffs, maybe the last rational part that’s endured—when did 100 years become something you could measure so flippantly?

Issei unfastens the loose tie of your robe at your waist, letting the silky material slip from your body like the flow of water over stone. You don’t know who’d dressed you in it, only that it’s not something you’d pulled on yourself. You hadn’t washed or dressed yourself since you’d woken up.

Yet another way you’ve been cared for in the time in-between.

Two strong arms cage you in against the floor, a palm resting on either side of your face. Issei’s body is warm. You like that. He always used to feel so much colder than you did, but now that your body is running at the same temperature his touch feels more ambient.

“Hey,” Issei’s gentle hand takes your chin to turn your gaze towards him, “get out of your head for a minute, okay? Just focus on me. I’m right here.”

He is, and he has been. He and Hiro both, for the past nine days.

And for a long time before that.

And now forever.

Issei dips forwards and kisses you sweetly, deeply.

He doesn’t have to prep you like he used to, because your body isn’t fragile in the same ways it once was. You feel the thick head of his cock dragging through the sticky petals of your pussy, and know that you can stretch to accommodate him without any of the discomfort you may have once felt. When he presses inside, you just feel full. You just feel good.

You moan against his mouth as he gives the first few slow thrusts, like he’s letting you get used to it. Like he’s letting you enjoy it.

But it’s not enough.

With newfound strength, a strength you’re not yet fully used to, you roll the two of you over and pin him down against the tatami. Issei’s eyes are surprised, but not unwilling in the slightest, as he stares up at you with his dark hair fanning away from his face. Your hips begin moving freely, using your new position as leverage. You’re full, then empty, then full again as you bounce on his lap—the wet, lewd sound of skin slapping fills the room, but you can scarcely hear it over the thrum of your pulse.

“That’s it,” Issei groans, praising you. His eyes have gone half-lidded as you ride him, a little smile on his lips. “Take what you need, sweetheart.”

Your hips keep moving, chasing the pleasure that’s rising in your core. His hand finds yours, and you clasp your hand around his to guide it up your body. First to your chest, where he grabs a handful of your soft, bouncing flesh. He kneads it gently for a moment, his thumb pressing teasingly against the pebbled bud of your nipple. But that’s not where you want him either, and you keep guiding it up to your mouth.

“Careful,” Issei’s voice has gone a little raspier now as you bring his fingers to your lips. And you’re trying to be, you really are, but you’re a little too far gone to care that much.

He is too.

If you wanted to, he’d let you bite. Let you devour him.

You lick between his knuckles, flicking your tongue up between the digits as saliva drips down to his wrist, all while you keep spearing yourself back down onto his thick, hard cock. You slip the fingertips just past your lips, and moan around the digits when you feel him throb inside of you, your free hand hand fluttering down to your stomach where you swear you might be able to feel him shaping your body to fit him inside. You’re still grinding down against him, still suckling against his fingers, and Issei is still staring up at you from the floor with a tender, heavy lidded gaze.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and god do you know that he means it.

“Yeah, love you,” you whimper back, breathy and pitchy and desperate as you let his hand fall from your mouth. You drop down onto your elbows to kiss him, wet and messy, and hope that he knows that you mean it too.

Issei keeps thrusting up into you as your lips slot messily against his, an arm wound around the small of your back to keep you in place as he fucks into you. You’re lost in the feeling of it, in the pleasure Issei is giving to you, when suddenly light washes over the little room.

“I thought I heard you two in here.”

You squint against the light, your lips still hovering over Issei’s as you pant. Takahiro leans against the doorframe on the other side of the room, and his gaze sweeps across the scene as he pushes his flashy sunglasses up onto his head, his strawberry hair pinned back underneath them. His red eyes watch you placidly, an amused little smile on his face.

You always found it hard to believe that of the two of them, Hiro was the elder. And not marginally—Hanamaki Takahiro has seen more seasons than all of the towering trees that surround your little safe house combined. Where Issei is solemn and reserved, favouring understated clothes and quiet, Hiro delights in the marvels of the modern era; revels in them. Their stark juxtaposition is part of what had drawn you to them in the first place.

Part of what had led you here.

“Hiro,” you breathe when you spot him, but then the hair stands up n the back of your neck as you catch the sweet smell of blood in the air.

Something monstrous squirms inside of you; animalistic and feral. You scramble blindly towards it, but Issei keeps you where you are with his arms wrapped around your waist and his cock still inside of you. He pulls you to his chest as you thrash against him. You sob, desperately fighting against his hold. There’s an ungodly burning in your throat, saliva dripping from your trembling lips. Then Hiro is in front of you, so quickly so barely see him move, patting your hair back from your face.

“Shh, shh,” he coos in his smooth, low voice. You blink tears away, swallowing against your mouth full of spit. The ache in you teeth is back, worse now than before, almost as if you can feel the slice of fangs that want to push through your flesh and descend. You want to bite. To rend and tear. Every breath you draw in burns with the delicious fragrance you know is so close. You cling to Issei harder. “Baby, it’s not going anywhere. You’ll feed soon, just calm down. Don’t rush.”

Hiro takes your face in his hands, pressing light kisses the edge of your mouth, your cheeks, your nose. In the corner over Hiro's shoulder, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror of the vanity that sits half-uncovered.

You don't recognize the animal that peers back.

You’re tense even as Hiro coddles you, soothes you, but then Issei’s hips start moving again. The unexpected sensation punches a carnal, gasping sound out of you and it makes Hiro laugh against your cheek, all air.

There are four hands on your body, two mouths against your skin.

“Oh, that’s our girl,” Hiro sounds chipper as you slacken, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Breathe for us, okay? Just breathe. It’s okay.”

You hear the sloppy sound of Issei’s hips meeting yours, and the jingling of Hiro’s belt as he unfastens it with one hand.

You smell the scent of fresh blood, but also the cool early-winter air that clings to the material of Hiro’s coat now that he’s so close, still heavy with the lingering fragrant pine from outside.

You feel pleasure building while they touch you, until it drowns out the ache. You’re hungry, but the burn isn’t quite so vicious. Your teeth hurt, but you find the sting has been soothed.

“Resist it for a bit—”

You’re not sure who moves you, but soon you’re splayed out again with your back to the floor, Issei is pinning your wrists down by your face, and both men are looming over you. Hiro looks up at Issei, tucking a tendril of his dark hair behind his ear dotingly. He smiles as he looks back down to you, his touch still lingering on the shell of Issei’s ear.

“—For us?”

Seconds tick by that you can’t keep track of.

But it’s getting easier.

And you have plenty of time to figure it out.

You shut your eyes, nodding slightly as you swallow over the burn in your throat, and you let your mind go blank.

#matsukawa issei x reader #mattsun x reader #matsukawa x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader #makki x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsuhana #hq writing #hq fic #writing

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yonderly-alamort · 1 year

Note

hello! i saw the yandere posts & ur previous hq writings and i thought that maybe u could do a "crossover" or smth alike,, yk what i mean?? tysm <3

♡ ahh, thank you for the request & i hope u like it! (askbox)

・✶ ｡ﾟ𝐇𝐐 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐒 ¡!

THE WORSHIPPER ONE. he will never get tired of adoring you, that's for sure. his whole life revolves around u, the only thing on his mind. your voice, ur face, your laugh and mind; everything that has to do with you drives him crazy, but in a loving way, of course. though, anyone who dares to worship you the same way he does, will end up giving up their last breath.

characters list: bokuto, hinata, tanaka, yamaguchi, aone, suga, noya, lev, tendou, goshiki.

THE MASKED ONE. the perfect cover. thanks to it, you'll never suspect of anything. whether because of his pretty face or his unperturbed seriousness, it's almost impossible to predict his actually disturbing thoughts. his satisfaction couldn't be greater. he could easily get rid of the idiots who are always after you and no one would notice, leaving him as your only option. ah, what a joy, don't you think?

characters list: oikawa, kenma, semi, osamu, asahi, ushijima, kuroo, kita, aran.

THE RULER ONE. he has promised himself that you are his only reason for living, however, as love has to be mutual in a relationship, he has made you learn to believe that he is also the reason for your existence. made you learn that there are no true friends & that no one's worthy of your attention (except him). anyone who questions his rules will surely end badly.

characters list: kageyama, iwaizumi, suna, akaashi, ukai, daichi, sakusa, matsukawa, hanamaki.

THE HEARTLESS ONE. ha, good luck to whoever dares to get in his way. as much as he loves you and tries to be there for you, his heart is still of a dark hue. for now you know nothing about his fights, his tortures, much less about his murders, and he will make sure you never do. he wouldn't want the image you have of him as a lovely boyfriend to be ruined, would he?

characters list: tsukishima, atsumu, terushima, kyotani, daishou, yaku, yamamoto.

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yanderecrazysie · 3 months

Note

I'm sorry, but is it possible to continue with Iwaizumi Hajime " Pretend " ?

My precious anon, there is nothing to apologize for! Of course I can!

Title: Pretend (Part 2)

Pairings: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, marking, suggestive content

Summary: Iwaizumi is the perfect gentleman, your knight in shining armor. Or, at least you thought he was… But sometimes you don’t realize someone’s playing pretend until it’s too late.

Part 1: here

pretend

/verb/

speak and act so as to make it appear that something is the case when in fact it is not

You felt like a living doll.

A fake smile plastered on your face in clothes that he has picked out for you. No one seems to notice that your smile never matches your cold, dead eyes.

Iwaizumi likes you by his side, dragging you around with his arm around your waist as he talks with his team, as he eats his lunch, as he walks you to your classes, and on the way home. That last one is the worst because now he knows where you live.

Oikawa’s fangirls no longer go after you, since it’s clear that you’re only “interested” in Oikawa’s right hand man, and not the superstar himself. Even their razor sharp eyes don’t pick up on your discomfort. Neither do your friends.

“You’re so lucky!” “He’s so handsome!” “He loves you so much!”

He’s handsome, yes, and he certainly loves you (too much), but you aren’t lucky. In fact, you are the least lucky person in the world. If you were lucky, you would have been enrolled in a different school, not the hell Iwaizumi had turned Aoba Johsai into.

Iwaizumi is the most possessive person you know. His arm being around you at all times is the least of your concerns. It’s the moments when he pulls you into a closet and leaves “love bites” all over your neck. Where people can definitely see it, of course. You try pulling up your collar, but it’s in vain. If they faded or were hidden somehow, he’d just replace them with even deeper markings.

As he sits you down at the table his team sits at, you desperately hope that they’ll notice something. Anything. The pain in your eyes, the way your smile falters when Iwaizumi’s attention turns to you, the way you clearly want to be anywhere else.

But no. They don’t. Of course, they don’t.

Oikawa coos over you until Iwaizumi’s snarling at him to back off. Hanamaki and Matsukawa laugh behind their hands at Oikawa’s whiny “Iwa-chan!” and a part of you wonders if they know you’re miserable and they’re laughing at your suffering.

The first and second years pout and whine about how they want a girlfriend too. One as pretty and sweet as you. There’s an unsaid “as submissive as you” somewhere in there.

You sit there, unmoving and unfeeling, as their practice match rages on. Iwaizumi hits the ball as hard as he can and, you can tell, as his eyes flicker to you, that he expects you to clap and cheer for him.

You can smile and pretend you’re watching, but no way in hell can he make you do anything more than that for him.

Or maybe he will. There was a time where you weren’t smiling, but now, here you were, fake smile plastered on your face from dawn to dusk, stretching the corners of your face until they were sore.

The only good thing about him was that he respected your boundaries. To a point.

When he cornered you in a storage closet, all hot and bothered for who knows why, he listened when you told him not to go too far. He was left pushing his hands in your shirt only high enough to stroke and grope your stomach. And, of course, leave hickies up and down your neck.

It was in these moments, that he let you see his emotions, the stoic expression replaced by something so loving and so disturbing. His eyes were soft, but dark with something you couldn’t place. It was close to lust, but that wasn’t it. Obsession seemed to fit better than anything else.

Considering Iwaizumi barely gave you time to breathe, you felt that you may just be right on the money.

The first time he kissed you, it was in the school hallway, filled with curious onlookers. You watched as his lips grew closer and closer, but you were frozen in place, unable to even move your face away. It was short and sweet, more of a peck than anything.

The rest of the kisses were hot and heavy in the storage closets, as though he was hoping you’d say yes to less innocent activities. It would be a cold day in hell before you accepted that offer.

He still treated you like a princess, as though he could somehow still be your knight in shining armor after all he’d done to you. There were moments- times when you were both alone, when he would gaze at you with a faraway look, as though he felt bad about what he’d done to you.

Guilty that he’d turned you into this living husk.

You would never forgive him. Not even if he got on his knees and begged you, tears running down his cheeks.

Your eyes glazed over as Iwaizumi wrapped you up in a hug after another Seijoh victory. You went limp in his arms, refusing to reciprocate. He either didn’t notice or he didn’t care.

He leaned back and studied your expression for a moment, before something akin to guilt flashed through his eyes and his mouth parted in the beginning of a “sorry”.

Then, it was gone as soon as it appeared.

“Let me walk you home.”

It’s not a question. It never is.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!!#yandere one shot #one shot #yandere iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime

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seijorhi · 2 years

Text

Beg, Borrow & Steal

Mattsun & Oikawa Soulmate Commission for a lovely nonnie <33 Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Matsukawa Issei x female reader w.c 6.7k tw: noncon, smut, nsfw, forced infidelity, general yandere themes

The first time it happens, it’s a miracle. The world flips and colour – the glistening ocean lapping at your heels, the bright blue sky, the green of your best friend’s two piece – bursts across your vision, stealing your breath away.

Twenty yards down the shore, similarly moonstruck, your soulmate gapes back at you – at least until the next wave comes, knocking into him and sweeping him right off his feet.

The second time ‘round, it feels more like a hurricane.

In the space of a heartbeat, the life you’ve lovingly built brick by brick is ripped apart, right down to its very foundations.

—

“They’re gonna love you, will you please stop worrying?” he laughs, and you can’t help the warmth that floods your cheeks.

“I know it’s stupid. I know, but–”

Smiling – perfect, beautiful – Tooru pulls you into his arms. Takes a moment to admire your face. “Iwa already thinks you’re too good for me, Makki and Mattsun’ll like you just fine.”

He’s joking about the first part.

You’d been introduced to Tooru’s best and oldest friend only a few months after meeting, and had been pleasantly surprised at how well you’d gotten along with his ex-teammate. There’s no reason for your stomach to be fluttering the way that it is. You’re Tooru’s soulmate, you love him with everything you have. Whether or not they like you as a person, surely they’ll be able to appreciate that much.

You don’t need them to love you or anything so dramatic, you just don’t want them to hate you.

Initially, the plan was for the three of them – Iwaizumi, Hanamaki and Matsukawa – to meet you both at the airport, after over a full day’s worth of travelling, though, you managed to beg a nap and a long, hot shower from your boyfriend first.

Instead, the plan is now to meet them downtown for drinks, followed by dinner at some semi-famous hole in the wall ramen joint that Iwa and Makki, both having found a home in the bustling city, apparently swear by. Low key, casual, easy.

“Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?” Slowly, his gaze dips, surveying the little red number you’ve chosen for the night. A grin that’s not entirely innocent teases at his lips. “I love that dress on you.”

Oh, you’re well aware.

Tooru was the one to buy it for you. Truthfully, you’ve always thought that the drab hue washes you out, yet whenever you wear it you’re rewarded with that slack jawed, smouldering expression that never fails to make your knees just a little weak.

It’s one hell of a confidence booster.

“Huh, I had no idea,” you cheekily reply, stretching up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips with a grin of your own.

Rolling his eyes, he huffs a half hearted “Tease,” when you part, but laces his fingers back through yours all the same. Squeezes your hand reassuringly. “You know, it used to be an old tradition of ours. Ramen, I mean,” he elaborates at your confused expression. “I don’t even remember who started it, but whenever we lost a game, we’d go out for ramen and eat and eat and eat until we were ready to burst.”

He chuckles fondly at the memory, and it seems an odd thing to you.

Then again, Tooru’s always had somewhat of an interesting relationship with defeat, that he’d continue to enjoy a food inextricably linked to that probably shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“What about when you won?”

“Milk bread.” He says it with such solemnity that it takes you a second to realise he’s joking. You giggle, and Tooru’s thumb sweeps along the back of your palm, a pleased twinkle dancing in ash eyes.

Lapsing into conversation over old volleyball habits and traditions, the two of you arrive at the bar in no time at all. Iwa’s settled into a booth up the back, another man, one you recognise from pictures of Tooru’s high school days, making his way over to the table with a bottle of sake and glasses in hand.

“Ahh, the famous soulmate,” he grins, setting them down as the two of you make your way over. “This idiot doesn’t shut up about you. I’m Hanamaki– Makki, though, since we’re friends.” He winks and you can’t help but laugh in response, ignoring the indignant cry from Tooru.

“It’s great to finally meet you guys.”

“Mattsun’s just–”

Over Makki’s shoulder, you spy him. Tall, dark haired and handsome, there’s no mistaking it. He’s busy shoving his keys and wallet into the pocket of his jeans when he looks over. Catches your eye.

And just like that day on the beach in Argentina, colour explodes.

New and vibrant, so bright that it blinds, steals the breath right from your lungs. Hues you never knew existed – reds and pinks and yellows. Browns. Mixing in a vivid symphony that burns across your vision like a meteor.

Your dress and the TV screen playing behind the bar, the colour of Matsukawa’s shirt.

This time there’s no pleasant, warm tingling feeling, there’s no giddy delight. You already have a soulmate, this has already happened once, it’s not supposed to happen again–

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Can’t hear the shocked ‘holy fuck’ that falls from his lips over the roaring in your ears.

You feel it, though. The body that stiffens beside yours. The sharp intake of breath that cuts like a guillotine.

It seems a cruel twist of fate that the first time you see your soulmate’s face in colour – true colour, eyes not the grey tint you’ve come to adore but lovely and deep and swimming in pain – he’s looking back at you as if you’ve ripped his still beating heart out of his chest and squeezed the life right out of it.

He blinks, and there’s nothing.

“Tooru–”

Shaking off Iwa’s hand, ignoring the broken syllables of his name as they fall from your lips, he walks out.

You don’t think, lurching to chase after him.

Mattsun–

No. You can’t worry about him right now.

Ducking and weaving your way through the crowded bar, you don’t realise that Matsukawa’s followed you until you burst out into the cool, autumn air and his voice cuts through the night.

“Hey just– just wait a sec, would you?”

His grip is iron as it closes around your wrist, softening – but not loosening – when you finally stop for him. His mouth opens. Close. Wide eyes searching yours.

On the other side of the street, Tooru’s already climbing into a cab.

“I– I can’t, I’m sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

And he doesn’t fight it when you pull yourself free.

—

The lights are off when you get back to the hotel room. Tooru’s out on the balcony, staring blankly out over the twinkling city lights. He doesn’t so much as blink when you slide the door open to come out to join him. Doesn’t move as you press yourself against his back, arms encircling his waist.

“I didn’t know,” you mumble, “I didn’t realise it wasn’t… everything. You have to know that.”

He tenses beneath you, and you lay your cheek against his shoulder, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I don’t care about any of it. I love you. You’re my soulmate.”

He’s silent for a long time.

“… But it’s not enough, right? I’m not enough. Otherwise–” he breaks off with a humourless laugh and it guts you. “Otherwise you wouldn’t need another soulmate.”

Pulling him closer, you don’t fight the tears that spill from your lashes, dampening the back of his shirt. “I don’t want him, I don’t want anyone but you.”

—

You wake to the sound of voices, the door to the bedroom closed over. Tooru’s side of the bed is still warm, the sheets rumpled. Pausing only long enough to quickly throw on a robe, you open the door to carefully peer out.

The scene that you’re greeted with isn’t the one you’re expecting, although all things considered perhaps it should’ve been. Tooru, still in his pyjamas, arms folded across his chest and scowling, Matsukawa standing opposite, glaring right back, looking every bit as exhausted as you feel.

“She’s my soulmate, too. You can’t bury your head in the sand and pretend it didn’t happen, Oikawa. It’s a shitty fucking situation but it did!” He exhales heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. When he continues, his voice is quieter. A touch calmer. “Look, I’m not trying to steal her away from you, I’m asking for some time.”

You can see Tooru mulling over the request, the unhappy set of his jaw. Deep down, you recognise that what Matsukawa’s asking for isn’t unreasonable, and if the situations were reversed, you’d be pleading for the same.

So would Tooru – whether he’d admit it or not.

But things aren’t that simple. They can’t be, not when you’ve already given everything to Tooru, built a life with him, planned your future with him.

You never counted on another soulmate. You’re only ever supposed to have one.

(What kind of person does that make you, to not be satisfied with that?)

Rather than let Tooru speak for you – or maybe because you can’t bear the thought of what he might say in your stead – you decide to use that moment to make yourself known. Both heads snap towards you the second the door creaks open, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

Neither speaks, though, as you walk to Tooru’s side, slip under the arm he offers.

And god, the weight of your relief at that simple gesture nearly brings you to your knees.

Meeting Matsukawa’s steady gaze, you swallow uncomfortably. “You’re right,” you tell him softly, hating yourself even as you speak the words that damn you both. “This isn’t a situation any of us want to be in. I’m sorry, really I am, but…”

“But you’re with him,” he finishes for you.

Not angry or bitter, no, the inflection of his voice gives little insight into his true feelings on the matter. His expression, on the other hand – you recognise that look, it’s one you’ve seen countless times shining in Tooru’s eyes; a steadfast resolution.

A refusal to back down.

“Okay, fine. You guys are together, I don’t care. I’m not here trying to get in the way of that.” His eyes flicker to Tooru’s, “You’re only in Tokyo for a few more days, right? Give me today, or– fuck, just give me a few hours. ”

If he were anyone else, you think, there’s no way Tooru would’ve let him through the door. Then again, if he were anyone else, this situation wouldn’t be what it is.

He matters to Tooru, and so you can’t just shove him aside and pretend he doesn’t exist. Because you can’t shove him aside, you’ll inevitably end up hurting him – over and over and over again. You won’t ever be able to give him what he wants.

To be what he wants.

That’s all you’re supposed to get; one soulmate. One happily ever after.

You sigh, “… I don’t–”

“All I’m asking for is a few hours before you disappear back to Argentina – as friends, that’s it.” He grins; a strained attempt to lighten the tension in the room. “You owe it to yourself, don’t you think?”

“As… friends,” you echo, a small crinkle appearing between your brows.

He nods. “Friends. If you’re sticking with this asshole, we’re gonna be in each other’s lives one way or another, right? Why make it awkward?”

At your side, Tooru remains unnaturally stiff. Silent. Frowning as he stares (would you go so far as to call it a glare?) not at you, but at Matsukawa.

Friend or not, you realise that he wants you to say no to him.

This isn’t his decision to make, though, and so with a deep breath, you nod, forcing yourself to smile.

“Okay, fine. As friends.”

—

“I love you,” you remind Tooru, raising yourself up on your toes to kiss him.

His arms encircle your waist as they often do, a familiar smile teasing at his lips, “I know.”

It’s a shame then, that it doesn’t reach those lovely brown eyes of his.

—

“So you never so much as suspected–?”

“No,” you reply. “It probably should’ve clicked, I guess; all the colours I thought were so dull and boring. Things that back then looked the same shade that shouldn't've, but I thought that was normal. I thought everyone saw the world like that.” You shrug haplessly, “And I was happy, so why would I think I was missing something?”

Perhaps it’s not the kindest thing to admit that out loud to Matsukawa. He had been the one to ask, though.

The two of you are settled on the couch in Hanamaki’s living room – his temporary residence while he’s staying in Tokyo – Tooru off being distracted by Makki and Iwa.

To Matsukawa’s credit, he’s trying. No amount of awkwardly skirting the conversation can distract from the giant elephant in the room, though, and it’s hard on you both.

Because it isn’t difficult being with him.

He’s funny, yes and undeniably handsome – maybe not in the way Tooru is, with his pretty features and big, brown eyes, but attractive all the same. The moment you relaxed and stopped worrying about what to say and how you were supposed to act around your not-soulmate soulmate, everything fell into place. It became easy to talk with him. To laugh and giggle at the stupid jokes.

Like breathing.

“Missing something, huh?” he grins, waggling his eyebrows, and you roll your eyes with a huff.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Yet the grin remains. “Sure, ‘course I do.” Then, changing tracks before you can retort, he asks, “You hungry?”

You can pretend that you haven’t noticed the sky outside’s no longer pink and golden, sunset long since having come and gone. A few hours, that’s it, you’d promised Tooru, I’ll be back before dinner.

Your fingers curl into the hem of your skirt, twisting.

“Actually, I should probably–”

Before you can rise, Matsukawa’s hand falls on your thigh, stopping you. “C’mon, stay. We’ll get takeout – there’s a pretty good dumpling place just down the road.” And, as if he knows full well exactly where your hesitation lies, he adds, “You’re already here, what’s the harm in another hour or two?”

You sigh, “Matsukawa–”

“He gets you for the rest of your lives, you can’t give me one dinner?” he interrupts.

His tone doesn’t betray any bitterness, still, the words hit you like a slap in the face, cold and biting.

He’s not lying.

In a few days' time, you’ll board the flight home to Argentina with Tooru, and you know in your heart of hearts that it’s unlikely he’ll ever bring you back, not now.

… And yet a part of you wants to be here. The part that glows when you’re around him, the part of you that beats and lives and breathes solely for Matsukawa Issei.

You can’t live a life split between two soulmates.

“Don’t pretend you don’t wanna stay,” he continues, watching your expression closely. “And stop with the Matsukawa bullshit.”

You arch a brow. Really, that’s what he’s concerned with right now? “You’d rather I call you Mattsun?”

Matsukawa chuckles, shaking his head.

His hand still resting on your thigh, you hadn’t realised how close he was. Is. You can count every eyelash if the desire struck, your breath mingling with his in the few inches that separate you from him.

You should push him away, you think distantly, but you don’t.

“Nah,” his voice is deep; a soft, commanding rumble that sends heat flushing to your face, your heart trilling like a hummingbird’s. ”I want you to call me Issei.”

Mouth suddenly dry, you manage to stutter out a breathy “O-okay,” much to his amusement.

It softens, though, shifts into an expression more contemplative as the seconds tick by and neither of you move.

“… Stay,” he repeats. Gentler this time.

He’s not just talking about dinner.

“The dumplings are that good, huh?”

Rather than take the weak rejection for what it is, Issei merely shrugs, settling back into the couch – finally putting some much needed space between you, “Company’s better.”

And he’s telling the truth – at least insofar as dinner’s concerned.

An hour later finds you knocking his chopsticks out of the way to steal the last perfect, delicious pork gyoza for yourself, “Snooze ya lose,” you laugh between bites.

“Greedy.”

You grin wider. “For dumplings? Absolutely.”

Tooru would’ve pouted, jokingly accusing you of loving food more than you loved him.

Issei, on the other hand, snorts.

“Yeah, well I can work with greedy,” and then there’s a warm, calloused palm cupping your cheek and he’s kissing you.

For a split second – a heartbeat – you lose yourself in it. The way his mouth moves against yours, the roughness of fingertips grazing your skin, his tongue in your mouth – the taste of him.

Issei kisses you like salvation itself lies between your lips, and for a split second (no more than a heartbeat) you kiss him back.

And then realisation sets in – ice dousing your system, shocking you back to reality. You break away with a gasp, physically shoving him back.

“What the hell are you doing?” you hiss.

There’s a flicker of something dangerously close to hurt in his eyes, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. “I would’ve thought that was pretty obvious,” he drawls back.

“I told you I’m with Tooru! This,” you gesture between the two of you, “can’t happen. I told you that!”

The muscle in his jaw clenches. “So what? ‘Cause he’s the one to find you first, he gets to keep you all to himself, and fuck everybody else?”

“You’re making it sound like this is something we chose!” you snap. “I committed to Tooru, we have a life together. I live on another continent for god’s sake! I thought you understood that…”

That’s what you’d both agreed; friends, nothing more. You couldn’t ever be anything more.

The silence between you is heavy. Uncomfortable. Eventually, Mattsun sighs, running a hand through his messy hair.

“That’s how it is, then; he gets you for the rest of your lives and I get left with nothing?”

The comment doesn’t sit well with you – you’re not some prize that either one of them gets to keep. Yet recognising that he's more than justified in being upset over the situation and, more importantly, that calling him out on it serves neither of you, you shove your indignation aside.

“Depends on whether you think having a friendship is nothing.”

He doesn’t have an answer for that, jaw working as he glares a hole into the wall over your shoulder.

Sensing that there’s no salvaging the night, you stand, making the few short steps to the table where you dumped your purse on your way in – far from blind to the eyes that follow your every move.

“I think I should go.”

If anything, Matsukawa looks even less happy with that, but he rises to his feet and nods stiffly all the same. “Yeah, okay. I’ll drive you.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I can find my own way back.”

—

Your boyfriend smells of sake when he returns, winding his arms around you to pull you close, pressing kisses to your cheek. If Tooru notices the salty dampness beneath his lips, he doesn’t pass comment. “Missed you. Thought you were comin’ home for dinner,” he murmurs, his tone carrying a bitter edge the alcohol can’t mask.

“I’m sorry,” the words come robotically.

Hoarse.

And then, without warning, you shatter. Sobbing, heaving for each and every breath as your legs give way beneath you. Only Tooru’s arms, strong and lithe, tightening around your middle keep you from falling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cry.

Sorry for staying out later than you’d promised.

Sorry for kissing Matsukawa.

Sorry for hurting him.

Sorry for causing this whole stupid mess in the first place.

The two of you sink to the floor, Tooru clutching you tight. Frantic touches, hasty words spoken between kisses, he tries – and fails – to bring you back from the brink. Back to him.

It’s white noise, all of it.

Something inside of you is breaking, fracturing into tiny pieces you‘re not sure you’ll ever be able to put back together and mend, and it hurts.

Oh god, it hurts.

—

The two of you fly home the following afternoon.

Tooru makes up some excuse about Coach calling him back last minute for pre-season preparations. He tells you to pack your suitcase with a peck to your cheek – and you do.

What other choice is there?

Matsukawa’s there to see you both off – along with Makki and Iwa – though he barely speaks more than a few words to his old friend. Instead, he stares until you disappear beyond the gate, arms folded across his broad chest, expression inscrutable.

And it feels as if you’re leaving behind some vital piece of yourself.

Jet engines roar and Tokyo becomes nothing more than glittering lights out your window. In the seat beside you, Tooru smiles, lacing your fingers with his.

“I love you,” he reminds you.

—

Months pass.

You… adjust.

It’s not easy – on either of you – but you make it work. Tooru was your entire world before, he’s your entire world now; that’s all there needs to be to it.

And if you notice how he hovers, how lately you seem to spend less time out with your friends and more alone with him, how the sex is different, and sometimes you wake up to find him staring, only for him to smile and sweetly kiss you good morning, you push those thoughts aside.

You’re both trying, and that’s what matters.

Then, late one afternoon, a knock sounds at your door. Assuming that it’s Tooru and he’s left his keys at home (again), you leap to throw it open and welcome him home – not bothering to pause and check the peephole.

Only it isn’t Tooru.

Matsukawa stands on the other side, a backpack hanging off one shoulder, shadowy circles beneath tired eyes. Eyes that snap to the hand you have resting on the doorframe and narrow.

More specifically, to the ring that catches the golden rays of the afternoon sun; glittering and pretty and expensive looking.

Your heart thuds unevenly.

Twisting your arm to shove it behind your back – and out of his sight – you swallow, “Tooru isn’t here,” you tell him.

As if that’s why he’s at your door, having travelled halfway around the world after months of complete radio silence between you; to visit his friend.

(As if you aren’t distinctly aware that he and Tooru barely speak any more.)

Matsukawa ignores it entirely.

“You said yes.”

A statement, not a question.

You know what he’s referring to, of course. While you’d kept fairly quiet regarding your engagement, at least insofar as your social media was concerned, Tooru had practically screamed it from the mountain tops.

Post after post, pictures of the two of you looking loved up and blissfully happy, of the ring. Bringing it up in interviews and post match press spots. You would’ve been more surprised to learn Matsukawa hadn’t heard about it.

Not that that does anything to assuage the guilt currently eating its way through your insides.

“I did.”

His throat bobs, eyes narrowing.

Your mouth opens, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re supposed to say to him. Do you try to justify it? Apologise? He can’t be that surprised, you told him that you were with Tooru, committed to him – surely he knew that this was coming.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. Matsukawa drops his bag, licks his lips–

“Yeah, well, you’re fucking mine, too.”

– and shoves his way inside. One large hand curls around your neck, the other pulling you flush against his front. Kissing you like his life depends on it.

He’s big enough – strong enough – to lift you up, his arm slipping beneath your ass to anchor you, marching the two of you further inside. And unlike last time, he doesn’t give you the chance to protest or break away. The fists that beat against his chest ignored, every muffled cry lost to his lips and tongue.

It’s desperate and angry, bordering on painful, and when he drops you on your bed – the one you share with Tooru – he’s panting.

He watches you with a razor sharp intensity, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, seemingly waiting for you to make the next move. To run. Slap him. Grab him by the collar and kiss him back, twice as hard.

Like he’s giving you the chance to make this choice with him – a knife to your throat, the two of you dancing on the precipice.

And for the first time since you met him and that precious, devastating bond snapped into place, you feel a distinct twist of fear. Oily and insidious, it creeps like vines across your chest, cruel thorns ripping into flesh, tearing at your vital organs as it constricts. Strangles.

The Matsukawa staring back at you; you don’t recognise him.

But surely… surely he wouldn’t go so far as to hurt you, right? He might be upset – angry, even – but if you can talk him down from… whatever this is, everything’ll be fine. He’ll stop if you ask him to, won’t he?

Because Mattsun can’t… he wouldn’t–

You don’t dare finish the thought.

Sucking down a gulp of air, you curl your fingers into the soft sheets beneath you – if only so he won’t see how badly they’re trembling. He’s upset, but he won’t hurt you.

He won’t hurt you.

Repeating it like a silent mantra, you breathe again, and in the calmest voice you can muster, call his name.

“Issei.”

He groans appreciatively, eyes briefly rolling shut as he presses closer. With his body wedged between your thighs, it’s impossible not to notice the growing bulge beneath his jeans. Your stomach flips; is he seriously getting a hard-on from this?

Towering over you, he takes your face in his hands – each palm nearly swallowing your cheeks – and tilts it upwards. “Yeah?”

Your skin prickles, goosebumps rising.

“Issei, you’re scaring me,” you whisper, desperately searching his face for any semblance of understanding. Regret. Remorse. Shame.

Anything.

You come away empty.

“I don’t want this.”

And you wonder whether he can feel your racing pulse beneath his fingertips, the shiver that wracks your body when he strokes the delicate skin.

“We don’t always get what we want.”

You rear back like you’ve been slapped, but he’s already pushing your shoulders down to the mattress, climbing on up after you. “But ‘m gonna show you you fucking need me.”

“Matsu–”

“Issei,” he growls, and attacks your lips once more.

You’re squirming, legs kicking out ineffectually, and the pink cotton of your sundress gives all too easily under his rough, greedy touch.

Your bra follows suit, torn down the middle and cast aside, Matsukawa’s mouth tearing away from your lips to suck and lave at your breasts. His tongue swirls around the soft mounds, licking and mouthing til you gasp and keen and your nipples stiffen into pretty peaks for his teeth to nip none too gently at.

“Issei, please!”

There’s marks there already, bruises and hickeys in mottled shades of red, burgundy and yellow. Possessive, adoring marks left by Tooru’s mouth – marks that he’s now trying his utmost to overwrite.

And while his face is buried in your chest, his hands wander down the span of your waist, holding you down yes, but squeezing and groping, exploring the bared flesh beneath the tattered remains of your dress.

Matsukawa’s impatient. His movements rushed, an urgency edging every touch. Is he worried about Tooru coming home, you wonder, or simply fed up with waiting for what he believes himself entitled to?

Your stomach turns at the thought.

That he’s spent days thinking about this, planning it. Did your refusal ever factor in? Or in this make believe world of his, were you always willing to throw your relationship with Tooru away and cheat without a second thought?

When those rough, calloused fingertips rub along the seat of your panties and he groans against your tits, deep and satisfied, tears spring to your eyes. You don’t bother to try keeping them at bay – if your pleas weren’t enough to sway him to stop, you can’t imagine the sight of you crying will move him any differently.

Yet he does notice them, dark eyes dilating at the sight, his mouth – preoccupied still with your breasts – curling into a smirk despite himself.

He’s enjoying this, you realise sickly.

Spurred on by the tears spilling from your lashes, thick fingers push aside the seat of your panties, swiping at your folds. They come away glistening, and you want nothing more than for the ground beneath you to open up and swallow you whole.

Finally parting from your chest, he sucks the digits into mouth, simmering eyes burning a hole into you, savouring the sweet taste of your cunt. And as if your humiliation – your heartbreak – is not enough already, he takes them from his lips and drags them down your stomach, leaving a lewd trail of saliva and slick in his path. Your hysteria builds when they reach your underwear once more, but Matsukawa hushes you.

“Trust me,” he murmurs lowly, his voice more a growl than anything else, “you want me to do this. Gonna hurt you otherwise.”

Yet he doesn’t look nearly as put out by the prospect as he should be.

“Please, please Issei, I don’t–”

He kisses you again, muffling your protests with his tongue as his fingers, pointer and middle, force their way into your sex.

And oh god, oh god, it’s not that the thickness isn’t anything you haven’t taken before, only that you’re not prepared, and it stings as your cunt stretches around the sudden intrusion.

It’s graceless, the way that he curls the digits, fucking them into you.

Graceless, but effective. With every squelching prod, the walls of your pussy relax a little more, a whisper of pleasure taking the place of pain. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to pretend that it’s Tooru touching you, kissing you. Fighting him off when he’s so much bigger and stronger than you might be an exercise in futility, but maybe you can get through this if you imagine it’s him. If you pretend that this is an act of love and not a violation of your body and trust.

It’s Tooru who’s doing this.

Tooru who loves you, who wouldn’t so much as dream of hurting you.

It’s Tooru.

… It’s all wrong, though. Your body knows it. Tooru isn’t rough, but coaxing. He likes to use his mouth as well, talented tongue teasing at your clit while his fingers seek out your g-spot to bring you to a shaking, shuddering orgasm. Usually, the first of many.

He talks, too, whispering absolute filth into your ear, laughing when you whine and beg – he loves it when you beg for him.

Tooru likes to take his sweet time.

Matsukawa, on the other hand, waits only long enough for your body to stop outwardly resisting him before he breaks from you with a heavy exhale. “Fuck.”

You keep your eyes shut as he sheds his clothes – first his jacket and then the shirt beneath. The clinking of his belt buckle brings a fresh wave of sickening fear, and he rolls off of you only long enough to kick his jeans off and into some corner of your bedroom along with the rest of his clothes.

His nose nudges at your neck as he climbs back over you, broad hands pushing your thighs apart to settle in between.

And still you don’t look.

Can’t bear to.

“I forgive you,” he mutters, hot breath tickling uncomfortably at your skin.

He says it like an oath, absolution for the wrongs that pale in comparison to the act he’s about to commit, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip, drawing blood. “I love you, even when you’re being stubborn and fucking difficult.” You hear him shifting above you, a quiet, shuddering grunt as the blunt head of his cock slides along the outside of your wet pussy. “But I’m not gonna let you keep running away.” The tip brushes against your clit, and your hips jerk in response, drawing a sharp hiss from the dark haired man. “You’re mine, too,” he growls. “…Look at me.”

Childishly, you ignore the request. Why should you humour him when he’s about to violate you in your own bed.

“Look at me,” he repeats, his voice deepening.

When it becomes clear that you have no intention of complying, he makes an exasperated noise, like you’re the one acting out.

“I love you.” With neither gentleness nor care, the mushroom shaped head of his cock spears into your wet cunt – and your eyes fly open regardless, a strangled scream ripping its way free from your lungs.

No amount of prep would make this any easier to take. His cock is thick, throbbing as it splits you in two. It’s only the hand he has braced on your hip that keeps you from scrambling back, forcing you to take it as Matsukawa feeds it in, inch by inch.

And it’s only the tip.

Tooru’s by no means small, and yet Matsukawa puts his dick to shame. The sheer girth of it has your eyes watering, heart rate picking up. Even his balls, hanging beneath the thick, veined monstrosity that is his cock, lie heavy and full. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to take all of him, not unless he plans on rearranging your insides!

He has the nerve to grin and chuckle, “Told you you’d need the prep.”

There’s no disassociating this time. No fantasy you can conjure up to pretend this is anything other than what it is. His cock rocks inside of you, twitching and eager, and through the breath-taking haze of pain and discomfort, a thread of pleasant heat coils inside of you.

Traitorous.

Wanting.

Once upon a time, you imagined how this might go.

If things were different, and you’d met him before Tooru. You’d lain back on this very bed, your fingers dipping between your thighs as you’d shamelessly imagined how he’d take you the first time. How he’d start off gentle, not wanting to scare you with his size, taking it slow to ease you onto his cock, praising you ‘til you were a flushing, panting mess beneath him.

And then, when he was sure you were adjusted and ready to take more, when you were almost mad with want, he’d hold you down, grin that wicked, irresistible grin of his, and fuck you like there’d be no tomorrow.

Maybe this is retribution, you think, another pained noise slipping out as you stretch impossibly around him. For wanting. For being greedy.

Why wasn’t Tooru enough?

Already, you’re stuffed too full. There’s no room left but he keeps going. All you can think about is the pain between your legs, the heat of him, radiating with each pulse of his dick, your cervix crying out as his cock bullies its way forward despite the barrier.

Finally, he bottoms out, his head falling back with a deep, throaty curse.

You can’t think. Can’t move.

Can barely breathe.

Pain, pain, pain–

and pleasure, curled up in one.

And Matsukawa opens his eyes to find yours. There’s no words, only a maddening lust that bleeds over his features. In one fell swoop, he’s looming over you again, a muscular arm sweeping under your back to lift you from the bed, crushing you to his front. He draws his hips back, ignoring the way you wince and whimper at the sting, and with that same awful grin, slams them forward once more, stuffing himself balls deep to the sound of your choked cries.

He fucks you on his cock like a ragdoll.

Uncaring about the tears that spill down your cheeks (or perhaps urged on by them), Matsukawa presses hot, open mouthed kisses to your neck, your jaw, moaning your name in between vicious, pistoning thrusts. With one hand braced against the mattress, his pace is relentless.

A bead of sweat runs from his temple down to his chin, dripping onto your skin before rolling to the sheets beneath you. Your own hair is matted to your damp forehead, your body running hot, burning under the heat of him. He’s everywhere. It’s all you can do to grasp at the broad planes of his back, fingernails sinking in, scratching him while he takes his pleasure with little care for your own.

“Is-sei” you gasp – a plea.

One he ignores.

Another guttural groan, and he shifts – flipping you over, lifting your hips, “C’mon, up on your knees for me, ah, good girl.”

Your top half falls back to the mattress, Matsukawa squeezing your waist. He gives you only a moment, no more than a second, to brace yourself before he resumes that brutal pace. And when his cock slides into your aching pussy, instead of a wail, this time you moan, wanton and whorish, a zing of pleasure surging from your core.

A slap rings through the room, the flesh of your ass stinging even as his palm rubs soothingly at the abused flesh.

“That good, huh, baby?” he laughs. “Knew you’d come around.”

The punch of his cock robs you of any indignation. Every noise dragged from your lips sings with reluctant pleasure, a chorus to accompany the lewd slaps of flesh, Matsukawa’s grunts, both of your panting breaths.

And the tears spill quicker, wetting the pillow you’ve dragged beneath your face. Clutching at it like a lifeline.

You hate him.

Hate him, even as your hips rise and roll back into his, a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Matsukawa lowers his chest to your back, sinks his teeth into your shoulder. Another mark, another claim, your spine arches and Issei’s grip tightens. No longer does he pull out completely, choosing instead short, rabbiting thrusts that burn and ache and have the warm, velvety walls of your pussy fluttering and clenching around him.

“Fuck,” he curses again, picking up the pace. “Fuck.”

Like wildfire, it consumes you. His lips dragging along your back, the heat of his body sliding against yours. Most of all, that awful, addictive feeling of fullness, his cock pumping your guts. The rippling shockwaves that have your toes curling, your body crying out for more, more, more.

You hate it, you hate him and you hate yourself more than either of those things, but none of that matters when Issei roars your name, fingers sinking into the fat of your hips as hot, viscous cum spurts from his cock into the warmth of your pussy.

And you unravel completely.

—

The cherry red tip of his cigarette glows in the dying light of the afternoon as he takes a long, slow drag.

Issei holds you to him, a muscular arm draped over your shoulder, keeping you nestled into his side. In all honesty, though, you haven’t made much of an effort to slip away.

Where would you go? You can’t leave. You can’t pretend that it didn’t happen – not when your body is littered with undeniable proof that it did.

You can’t outrun him.

Or Tooru, once he finds out.

His cum hasn’t yet dried from your thighs, your cheeks shining with tears that spill silently, and Issei hums contentedly, exhaling a breath of smoke. Idle fingers trace lazily at your arm, he takes another drag.

Distantly, you recognise the sound of your front door opening, your name being called and the soft tread of footsteps approaching.

Your eyes squeeze shut, but Issei has no such compulsion as your soulmate stops dead in his tracks at the open doorway.

Exhales again, smoke billowing from curling lips.

“Captain.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere mastukawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere matsukawa issei x reader #tw: noncon

630 notes · View notes

milaisreading · 2 years

Text

I really want to write for Haikyuu rn, but I have somewhat of a writer's block and I like doing requestsa lot more tbh.

If someone has any requests, please send :)

Rules:

Please be 18+, otherwise I won't look much into the request if it's Yandere or a more mature theme. Requests are only open for Haikyuu now, for these characters, but you can request for others who are not on the list. Just know that this request might take longer to be done. Don't be disrespectful.

Tag list:

Please let me know if you want to be added to my tag list :)

MASTERLIST:

Characters I write for:

Karasuno

Kageyama Tobio

Hinata Shoyo

Sawamura Daichi

Sugawara Koushi

Azumane Asahi

Nishinoya Yuu

Tanaka Ryuunosuke

Yamaguchi Tadashi

Tsukishima Kei

Seijoh

Oikawa Tooru

Iwaizumi Hajime

Matsukawa Issei

Hanamaki Takahiro

Nekoma

Tetsuro Kuroo

Kozume Kenma

Yaku Morisuke

Haiba Lev

Yamamoto Taketora

Fukurodani

Bokuto Koutarou

Akaashi Keiji

Shiratorizawa

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Tendou Satori

Semi Eita

Goshiki Tsutomu

Yamagata Hayato

Shirabu Kenjiro

Inarizaki

Kita Shinsuke

Aran Ojiro

Suna Rintaro

Miya Osamu

Miya Atsumu

Itachiyama

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Komori Motoya

Kamomedai

Kourai Hoshiumi

Sachiro Hirugami

MSBY BLACK JACKALS

Shugo Meian

Schweiden Adlers

Hirugami Fukuro

Romero Nicollas

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ao3feed-iwaoi · 1 year

Text

Haikyuu AU Week

Read this masterpiece on AO3 at https://ift.tt/lKhs72u

by Dai_suga_for_life

Words: 236, Chapters: 2/21, Language: English

Fandoms: Haikyuu!!

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Hinata Shouyou, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Sawamura Daichi, Sugawara Koushi, Ennoshita Chikara, Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Azumane Asahi, Nishinoya Yuu, Kinoshita Hisashi, Narita Kazuhito, Yachi Hitoka, Shimizu Kiyoko, Takeda Ittetsu, Ukai Keishin, Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma, Yaku Morisuke, Haiba Lev, Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Kunimi Akira, Kindaichi Yuutarou, Hanamaki Takahiro, Matsukawa Issei, Yahaba Shigeru, Kyoutani Kentarou, Aone Takanobu, Futakuchi Kenji, Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji, Tendou Satori, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Shirabu Kenjirou, Semi Eita, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Suna Rintarou, Ojiro Aran, Kita Shinsuke

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Ennoshita Chikara/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Kinoshita Hisashi/Narita Kazuhito, Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka, Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Aone Takanobu/Futakuchi Kenji, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Kita Shinsuke/Ojiro Aran

Additional Tags: This was random, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Shit tons of kinks, too lazy to list them all - Freeform, Yandere, Some old and young au's, Haikyuu Month

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/lKhs72u

#iwaoi #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #ao3feed-iwaoi #haikyuu!!

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depravitycentral · 1 year

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I AM THINKING SO MANY THOUGHTS RN WHO DO YOU THINK WOULD MAKE YOU COCKWARM THEM WHILE YOU STUDY/DO HOMEWORK

He says it helps you focus, but you have your doubts.

It stimulates your brain, he says, and yet the only thing you can focus on is the way his fingertips dig into your sides, pressing against your soft skin just a bit too tightly. He’s holding you in place, but there’s something about the way he’s touching you that makes you think he’s trying to keep you from moving less because you want to, and more because he needs you to stay.

And with the way his breath hitches ever so slightly as you shift in his lap, you’re starting to think you’re right.

His breath is hot against your neck, words airily whispered and growled against your skin as you stare down at the papers sprawled across the desk before you. The black ink is hard to read, but then again everything is hard when he’s got you practically impaled on him, his girth stretching you out and making you squirm.

It’s all so unbearably warm – the swirling in your lower stomach, his breath, the way warm precum slowly oozes out of him and into you with each accidental clench around him. (The latter is accompanied by a small groan as well as the tiniest, oh so jerky buck of his hips upwards, trying to get deeper inside you, to fill you up more and more.)

He says it helps you to get your work done when he’s got you warming his cock, because it serves as motivation to work faster, harder, more efficiently – ironically, it seems to be doing just the opposite. Every thought is taken up by him him him, with the way he’s clutching onto you, his thighs occasionally twitching, his Adam’s Apple bobbing against your head as he shakily swallows.

C’mon, he tells you, his voice seemingly calm, though you can hear the slightest undertone of something hidden in his words. You know this – Professor went over it last week.

You gulp, willing yourself to ignore the way his hand slowly wanders upwards, fingers trailing over the sensitive skin of your sides.

I don’t remember… You mutter, biting your lip as his hand slows to a stop, right underneath your breast.

It’s silent for a moment, before he sighs softly, resting his forehead against the back of your head. Think hard – how much energy is used in this bond…

He’s talking, you know, but you can’t focus – not with the way he shifts you in his lap, trying to get a better view of the paper. You yelp slightly, the sudden bout of pleasure not going unnoticed by him.

His cock twitches inside you.

Now, we calculate… He whispers, and suddenly his hand is moving again, sliding up up up, over your breast and squeezing, your lower lip sitting between your teeth. A slender finger moves to lightly toy at your nipple through the thin material of your tshirt. He audibly gulps behind you.

Just like that, that’s it. He encourages, watching as you drag the pencil across the paper, your movements sluggish and weak. It makes him feel good, watching the way you struggle – all because of him.

Almost done, finish baby. Please, please finish. He tells you, and you’re finally able to put your finger on the underlying tone in his voice – desperation.

You can’t help the way your pussy clamps down, making his hips snap upwards, a small shudder racking his body. You can feel the muscles underneath the tshirt he wears tense, moving his body to press flush against your back. Fuck. He grips your tit particularly hard, harshly hissing between his teeth at the pressure of your velvety walls around him.

The air in the room is thick with desire, his fingers impatiently pressing at you, his thighs flexing with the strain of controlling himself. It’d be so, so easy to pin you down to the desk – your pants are already off, your pretty hole sucking him in like you need him, and with how wet you are around him, he’s sure you want this just as badly as he does.

He licks his lips, watching as you scribble the last few numbers – 3, 2, 1…

You finish with a sigh, letting the pencil clatter to the ground, and suddenly your whole world is turning upside down as he groans and grasps your waist once more, spinning you around so that you’re facing him, a leg on either side of his body. You steady yourself with two hands on his chest but it’s too late – he’s bouncing you up and down before you have a chance to even breathe.

F-fuck baby, so smart! He moans, his head lolling back slightly, eyes shut tightly. His lips part, uneven breaths spilling past them as he moves you up and down, faster and faster and faster, his own hips driving upwards to meet you.

He’s fucking you so deep, his tip rubbing right against the spot that has you seeing stars. You can’t even try to hold back the whines that bubble in your throat, but he doesn’t care. He wants to hear you, and as encouragement, a hand moves down to slap at your ass.

‘m so – so damn proud, my smart baby, fuck fuck fuck – He’s blabbering, incoherent as he struggles to hold off his orgasm. The pleasure is mounting and mounting, but he’ll be damned if he comes before you. You were so good, working so hard and diligently, and you kept him all nice and warm and wet and fuck how are you still so goddamn tight –

He’s gripping you even tighter than before, your poor tits bouncing in every direction as he uses you like his personal sex toy. It’s carnal, the way his hips snap into yours, balls clapping against your ass over and over. He lets out a particularly loud gasp, head falling forward and letting his teeth lightly sink into your shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut as his abs contract and tighten and ache –

Come for me come for me come for me, he begs, his voice thin and uneven, the desperation clouding his every thought. Fingers clumsily find their way to your clit, rubbing in circles that make you gasp and shudder.

Soon it’s all too much, your orgasm hitting and fuck, the way your walls flutter and massage his length makes him lose his fucking mind, the pleasure so intense. He’s nearly sobbing as he cries out your name, clutching you against his chest and moving to wrap his arms around you. He’s fully fucking into you now, his hips snapping up into yours hard enough to leave you physically bouncing, and the choked, gasping sounds falling past his lips as he comes leave your head spinning.

There’s just so much of it – runny and off-white, spilling down around his cock and running down your thighs, dripping down onto his balls and he shudders and heaves, still fucking up into you like you’re some kind of personal drug. It’s euphoric; he doesn’t want the moment to end, feeling you in his arms, clinging onto him and murmuring his name. It’s perfection, but all too soon your wet, spongy walls are too much for him, the oversensitivity leaving his brain scrambled.

He slows to a stop, chest heaving as he keeps you tucked against his chest, sweat formed at his temples as he murmurs your name. Over and over, like it’s some sort of prayer – and to him, maybe it is.

Your homework, complete and neatly filled out, lays forgotten as he hugs you tighter, burying his face into your neck. Declarations of love slip past his lips, slurred and so grandiose it almost scares you. You’re just classmates, both attending the same university – nothing close to actual lovers, and certainly not in love. He’s just a classmate who offered to help tutor you. And yet, as he slowly, oh so fucking slowly, pulls out of you some twenty minutes later, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

He does help you keep up your grades in the class, and you really can’t fail this chemistry class, can you? It’s worth it to sit through the sappy, somewhat deranged confessions of how he wants to keep you with him forever and ever.

After all, he’s not serious, right?

Kei Tsukishima, Satori Tendou, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Morisuke Yaku, Takahiro Hanamaki, Aran Ojiro

(Honorary mention to those who have you cockwarm them so they can focus – you’re sat in their lap, with your head resting in the crook of his neck. One hand sits comfortably on your ass, the other scribbling across the paper or highlighting the textbook. His lips are wet from licking them, his heart rate so damn high as he tries to ignore the way your pretty body feels against his, your pussy all warm and wet and snug against the sensitive skin of his cock. He twitches, shudders, his whole body desperate to just move, to fuck that pretty cunt of yours that all spread out on him.

It's an accountability thing, more than anything – with each problem he finishes, he allows himself three good, solid thrusts into you. It’s a slow, methodical fucking, one that makes him all the more needy for you. He likes the delayed gratification of it all – the way he has to physically pause and count to ten before he starts his work again, trying to focus on literally anything but the way you sound moaning his name, how your nails feel against his back, how your thighs clench around his abdomen. He tries to focus on anything but the way he wants to stuff you so full of his cock that you’re crying, blabbering and dependent on him to even think.

And once he finishes his work? Oh – it’s over for you, and your poor, perfect little cunt.

He’ll destroy you.

Tetsurou Kuroo, Ryunosuke Tanaka, Tsutomu Goshiki, Yuji Terushima, Atsumu Miya)

#_lee thirsts #_lee answers #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu smut #_tetsurou kuroo #_atsumu miya #_tsutomu goshiki #_yuji terushima #_satori tendou #_kei tsukishima #_tadashi yamaguchi #_morisuke yaku #_takahiro hanamaki #_aran ojiro

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erina-writes-headcanons · 2 years

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Aoba Johsai Masterlist

Hello Everyone, This is the Masterlist of my planned post and the link to the post of the scenarios. You also can see some of the symbols below.

🌹: Smut

🥀: Angst

🍭: Fluff

😂: Comedy

🧐: Random

🧸: Domestic

😐: Non-Specified

🗡️: Gore/Yandere

❤️: Romantic

Also, If you want a commission for a one-shot or a series, you can click this link:

Commission

Hello Everyone. I’m starting a commission. If you want a request, you can message me in here, Wattpad and Quotev. I'm going to make a com

ERINA WRITES- HAIKYUU, HETALIA, KNB

______________________________________________________________

Oikawa Tooru - Captain

When Their S/O dresses and acts like their Grandparents😂🍭

When their S/O in their Period (Part one) 🍭🧐

Reuniting with their S/O for a long time🥀🍭

Baking cake together with S/O🧸🍭♥️

Pranking S/O by Forgetting Today is Valentine🥀🍭♥️

S/O Surprising them with Pets🧸❤️🍭

Hanging Out with S/O who is a Karasuno Manager❤️🧐

❀

Iwaizumi Hajime - Vice Captain

When Their S/O dresses and acts like their Grandparents😂🍭

Reuniting with their S/O for a long time🥀🍭

S/O Surprising them with Pets🧸❤️🍭

Having S/O Who can do a Kick-Boxing🧐❤️🍭

❀

Matsukawa Issei - Middle Blocker

-Empty-

❀

Hanamaki Takahiro - Wing Spiker

-Empty-

❀

Kyoutani Kentarou - Wing Spiker

Having S/O Who can do a Kick-Boxing🧐❤️🍭

❀

Kunimi Akira - Wing Spiker

-Empty-

❀

Kindaichi Yutarou - Middle Blocker

-Empty-

❀

Yahaba Shigeru - Pinch Server

-Empty-

❀

Watari Shinji - Libero

-Empty-

❀

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endeavorslut · 1 year

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♥︎ mimi • 19 • unhappily employed

♡︎ minors and ageless/empty blogs do not interact!

♡︎ all characters i write for are 18+ in my works

♡︎ this is a dark blog. i both create and interact with content that may not be suitable for all audiences.

♡︎ the aforementioned dark topics include but are not limited to: stepcest, incest, age gaps, dubcon, noncon, yandere, monsterfucking, etc.

♡︎ i personally do not take requests because i’m not in any place to commit to them. this is strictly for my own entertainment

♡︎ most if not all of my content will be nsfw, i’m not too interested in reading or writing sfw/fluff

♡︎ i only write x reader content and character x character poly relationships or threesomes with the reader. no interest in oc’s unless they’re my own, x reader. female reader only as it’s within my comfort

♡︎ if you are racist, homophobic, ableist, etc. gladly remove yourself from my blog

♡︎ im extremely kinky so feel free to drop whatever thirsts that tickle your peach into my inbox— just no pedophilia or bestiality

fandoms plus the characters for whom i write:

this isn’t to say i won’t write for others, just most of my works will focus on these characters

aot

— erwin, grisha, kenny, levi

𝗯𝗻𝗵𝗮

— all might, bakugo, dabi, endeavor, kirishima, shigaraki

death note

— ryuk

haikyuu

— daichi, hanamaki, matsukawa, ukai

jjba

— joseph joestar

naruto

— orochimaru

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touyaz · 1 year

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haikyuu (long)

>> click here for shorter reads (word count under 2.5k)

last updated 22 nov 2022

each fic contains more detailed warnings on the post itself — please read them before proceeding! your media consumption is your own responsibility.