The Walls Are Thin // Masterlist

the walls are thin // masterlist

in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall.

~ ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ total wc: 75368 ᴡᴏʀᴅs status (as of apr23): complete! ~ 9 / 9 chapters posted

oh but ofc she's got a playlist (♡) "what a shame it would be if you left her now"

the general vibe: incessant fluff, 18+ eventual smut (with small nsfw desc & bits in the meantime), small bits of angst (it's an 8 chapter story there's going to be some conflict) what you're getting yourself into: atsumu is very sexually active, complicated feelings (but no miscommunication trope), a LOT of flirting, hanamaki takahiro side piece ♡ , seijoh 4 & msby besties, slow burn (ish?), seriously so much fluff, tiny bit of angst, afab reader she/her pronouns, will provide tags for each chapter!! ~~

tori loves polls. (which of my self indulgences did you vibe with the most in the epilogue?)

ch1. your annoying, stupid, inconsiderate, really fucking hot neighbor

ch2. stupid, annoying, really attractive, super funny, ravishingly charming atsumu

ch3. perfectly inconsiderate, maybe cluelessly oblivious

ch4. incredibly heart-warming, stupidly romantic

ch5. overly attentive and completely different than you ever expected him to be

ch6. flirty, surprisingly sweet, now super close neighbor

ch7. really pretty, honest to god made for you

ch7.5. passionate, silently perfect romantic, unwavering platonic

ch8. gorgeously genuine, absolutely beaming (aka atsumu ending)

ch8.5. carefully attentive, the same person he’s always been (aka maki ending)

epilogue. proudly unpredictable and awestrukenly trusting

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

✩｡:*•.───── 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄.

it’s 3am, and six year old megumi fushiguro just woke up from a nightmare. the thing he wants to do most? seek comfort in your arms.

cw. this reader is gn, as the relationship with megumi isn’t developed enough yet for him to call her ‘mom’ but i plan on making future fics in the same timeline—which will then be a fem reader (just a heads up <3).

notes. healing my inner child through raising megumi with satoru? more likely than you might think. . .

It’s the soft shuffle of footsteps that first woke you from your slumber. Even after seven months of them being in your custody, you still haven’t gotten used to hearing footsteps that don’t belong to neither you nor Satoru—certainly not in the middle of the night. It’s probably why you were wide awake as soon as you heard them in front of your bedroom door.

As it stands, those footsteps don’t belong to you. Or Satoru. Or Tsumiki. They’re Megumi’s, and you know that because they’re so very quiet. As if he purposely makes himself small as to not stand out. Light as a feather in order to go unnoticed. Though, the small light in your hallway betrays him. It illuminates his figure, and allows you to see the shadows of his feet from underneath the door.

You glance at the digital clock that’s placed on your nightstand. 3:32am. It’s been ten minutes since the boy arrived at your bedroom door, and nine since you woke up. Will he finally summon the courage to enter, now?

A small frown settles between your brows. You attempt once more to untangle yourself from your boyfriend’s tight grip, to flee from his arms in order to take the little boy in front of your door into your own; it’s all futile, of course. When Satoru sleeps, he sleeps deeply, and he does so with you in his arms or not at all. He holds onto you as if you were a plushie, a teddy bear he could squish against him as much as his heart desires.

It’s endearing, sure, but it does put you in a bit of a pickle at the moment. You sigh, and glance at your friendly, sleeping giant. Satoru seems at peace. Cuddled into you from behind, it seems as if he doesn’t carry a care in the world. You smile, and make a mental correction. It’s very endearing—but still, doesn’t solve your current problem.

Tearing your eyes away from your boyfriend, you throw a worried look towards the door. He’s still there, and still lacking the courage.

“Megumi,” you whisper.

He stops pacing abruptly. It’s clear he heard you, despite the barely audible mumble of his name. And, though he's startled that you caught him, he doesn’t leave.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. There’s an attempt at pouring as much softness and gentleness in your voice as you can, not wanting to you scare him off. “You can come in, the door’s unlocked.”

The door opens very, very slowly. It seems everything Megumi does, he does so without creating too much of a fuss. All his movements are meek, careful—they’re made to not bother anybody. It saddens you a little, the fact that he’s so accustomed to making himself as invisible and easy to manage as possible.

A messy fluff of black hair appears in your line of sight. You suppress an amused smile at the sight. He shyly peeks into your room, one of his hands resting against the side of the door.

“Hey,” you say softly, and your eyes follow him as he quietly walks over to your side of the bed. He stops in front of you, but doesn’t speak. “Are you okay?”

It doesn’t take you long to notice the teary eyes, or the water staining his cheeks. You look at him sadly, and carefully bring a hand up to wipe the liquid off his cheek. He’s trying to be brave, you can see. Though the way his bottom lip shakes, and his eyes fill with tears again, completely breaks your heart.

“What’s wrong, Gumi?”

Megumi is really, really trying to keep himself together—ever the little adult that he is. Though his sniffles are quiet, they’re still there. They’re still present, and he’s unable to hide them. He’s crying. He’s crying, and came to you for comfort.

You shift on the bed, once again attempting to leave Satoru’s hold, and fail just as you have done before. A conflicted sigh leaves you. There’s little you can do to soothe him if you can’t get up. . .but he’s crying. The stoic, brave little kid that’s been residing within your apartment for many months now is crying.

Another tear falls down his cheek, and you make it your mission to catch it. “It’s okay,” you whisper softly, wiping the droplet away. The rustle of the covers beneath your hands is the loudest sound so far, as you push them aside to make place for him. “It’s okay, baby, come here.”

The solution to your problem isn’t one that’s welcomed eagerly. Megumi hesitates to snuggle under the covers with you—no, not with you, but with your menace of a boyfriend. He sniffs again, but doesn’t move.

“Gumi?” You mumble. A part of you fears it’s too much, too soon. It’s been seven months, and he’s difficult to open up. Perhaps cuddling into you is a step too far. However, then you see it; the way his eyes dart between you and Satoru. It answers a lot of your questions. “He’s fast asleep. You don’t need to worry.”

It seems he’s still a little unsure. Megumi gets rid of a lump in his throat, and frowns. “Are you. . .sure?”

“Mhm, he’s out like a light.”

That’s enough for him. Megumi crawls into the bed, and (albeit carefully) settles himself within your arms. He’s so very small—is what you think when he curls up against your chest. Such an adorable little kid, who definitely didn’t deserve the hardships he’s had to endure so far.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” You ask, voice muffled as you rest one of your cheeks on top of his head. “We don’t have to, but I’m here if you’d like to.”

Megumi’s breathing evens out. The shaky breaths and hasty intakes of air settle down, and you feel a sense of relief.

“I had a bad dream,” he confesses. It’s clear he feels a little stupid, reaching for you when he had something as fickle as a bad dream. “It’s—It’s not that important, but. . .”

“Why wouldn’t it be, hm?” You interrupt him, and gently brush a hand through his messy hair. It’s something he appreciates, as his eyes slowly flutter shut while he enjoys the feeling. “If it upsets you, it’s always important, Megumi.”

There’s another sniff. He’s crying again, though it might be for a different reason this time. Your arms hold him gently, and you sigh sadly when his small hands bunch up the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. You don’t push him any further. If he wishes to talk about what bothers him, then you’ll be here to receive him. Until then, you’ll wait.

“. . .You won’t leave us, right?”

Though, you hadn’t expected his worries to break your heart. They’re vocalised by a voice so small, so pitifully tiny that it nearly makes you doubt that it was Megumi who said them—Megumi, who’s usually all snark and bite towards your ever loving boyfriend. The mere fact has you squeeze him a little tighter.

“Of course, I won’t,” you assure him.

There are things you want to ask him. Such as, what brought this on? How come you feel this way, now? Is there anything I can do for you? But you don’t. It’s not what he needs right now.

“And—And what if you and him break up,” he mumbles. You realise he must be truly upset, and genuinely worried if he refers to Satoru as ‘him’ rather than some insulting word. “What will happen to me and Tsumiki, then?”

You smile, and kiss the top of his head. “We won’t break up, so, there’s no need to worry about that, baby.”

“But—But what if you do?”

There’s a sincere concern in his eyes. You grab his face and gently hold it in the palm of your hands. “Well,” you say. “I suppose, I’ll just have to take you two with me.”

Megumi’s bottom lip starts to tremble again. He forces it to still, just as he forces the tears in his eyes away by blinking. “Do you promise?” He looks at Satoru, and frowns a little despite his sadness. “You—You can’t leave me here with him, okay?”

It can’t be helped. You laugh, and it’s a little louder than you initially meant for it to be. There’s a hand placed in front of your mouth rather quickly, not your own, no, but Megumi’s. He looks at you with wide eyes, almost in disbelief that you managed to find the humour in this situation. You smile against his hand, and he only (hesitantly) removes it when you open your mouth to speak.

“I promise,” you say. “I won’t leave you or Tsumiki—ever. Not even with Satoru.”

That does the trick, it seems, as the boy settles back into your arms after giving you a swift nod and small mutter of acknowledgement. He hides his face into the crook of your neck, and sighs deeply. It’s filled with a lot of things; relief, sadness, but above all fatigue. It seems that, now that he’s calming down, his lack of sleep is catching up to him.

“Gumi,” you whisper, and start carding your fingers through his hair again. The slow movement soothes him, as his eyes slowly start to close. “Would you like to sleep with us tonight?”

You feel him tense up in your hold. It was to be expected, you think. Despite that, you deem it important for him to make that decision himself. You could easily let him doze off, but you know he will berate himself for it the next morning.

Megumi doesn’t move. “. . .He’ll be annoying about it.”

It’s not difficult to realise that the ‘he’ he speaks of is your darling boyfriend, who, admittedly, would be annoying about it if he were to wake up with Megumi suddenly asleep in your bed. It’s been seven months, and the kid seems to have Satoru’s personality down-pat. His comments would be relentless.

“No, he won’t,” you assure him. Though your boyfriend can be considered childish, he’s also compassionate—and you don’t doubt for a second that he’ll cut down on the teasing when you speak to him about Megumi’s troubles.

The kid moves in your arms. Megumi shuffles around a little to look at you, and doesn’t bat an eye when you gently brush a few hairs out of his face.

“How are you so sure?” He mumbles, the usual grumpiness when speaking of your boyfriend slowly but surely returns. It makes you smile; it’s a sign he’s gradually doing better again.

“Because,” you say, and gently poke his cheeks. His eyes crinkle, and his nose scrunches up a little, but he lets you do as you wish regardless. “I’ll talk to him. He won’t say a word, okay?”

There is little in the world that Megumi trusts less than Satoru’s ability to keep his mouth shut, but—if he were to appoint something that he trusts most, then it would surely be your ability to control your manchild of a boyfriend.

Megumi looks at you. In silence, of course. It’s one of the few things he has never minded. He blinks up at you. Once, twice, and then he goes to rest on your chest again.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I trust you.”

The three small words uttered by the six year old in your arms are enough to squeeze your heart. They meant the world to you, as they did to him. Your hold on him tightens momentarily, filled with too much affection to bear.

That went well, you dare to think. Could’ve gone a lot worse. In his hazy state, Megumi curls into you further—and rests one of his arms over your waist, just underneath Satoru’s. You fight a smile. Yeah, that could’ve gone a lot worse.

EXTRA!

It takes Megumi a little longer to get out of bed the next morning. Not because he’s so much more comfortable in your enormous (and ridiculously soft) king-sized bed—though, that does add to it—but simply because he’s a little nervous.

Both you and Satoru have already gotten up, which means the white-haired man must have seen him sleeping next to the two of you. But, it also means that you must have seen your boyfriend by now, which means you have spoken to him about. . .

He wants to get up. He should get up. You told him you’d speak to Satoru, and Megumi trusts you.

And it appears that his faith in you wasn’t unfounded, as the only thing that greets him when he walks into the kitchen is an overtly aggressive and way too enthusiastic rub over his head. Megumi swats Satoru’s hand away immediately, the regular scowl settling on his lips as the man rattles on and on about the breakfast you two had prepared for them.

Though, as irritated as he might be when finally sitting down at the table with the three of you—that stupid rub over the top of his head doesn’t feel nearly as bad now.

sugawara scans his desk one last time, ensuring the appropriate notes and corresponding report card have been laid out before glancing at the clock.

you’re four minutes late.

he doesn’t really mind waiting. yours is his last parent-teacher conference of the day, so he’s already slowly slipping into his relaxing weekend mindset. just him, a cup of espresso, and a stack of tests to be marked while he’s out on his balcony.

his fantasizing is interrupted by the rattling of his classroom’s doorknob, and he looks up just in time to see you stumble through the door, checking your watch and gasping.

“i’m so sorry i’m late, sir,” you breathe, doing your best to straighten your rumpled outfit. “there was this last minute thing at work and then i had to drop my daughter off at my friend’s—”

he’s surprised, momentarily. you’re a little younger than he’d anticipated, and based on your bashful apology, he can tell you carry yourself differently from the parents he’s accustomed to dealing with at a private school.

(you were prettier than he’d been prepared for, too.)

“you don’t need to explain. it’s fine, really!” suga insists, standing and quickly straightening his tie as you walk over to his desk. “i’m just glad you could make it.”

he holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it, smiling and thanking him profusely as you exchange introductions (the touch lingers for a second longer than appropriate, but neither of you seem eager to pull away).

when you finally part, he clears his throat, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. “please.”

you nod, wringing your hands in your lap and bouncing your knee as you both stare at each other expectantly. “i’m sorry,” you apologize again, though he’s not sure why. “i’m usually working, so this is my first time coming to one of these and i don’t know how this works.”

suga just chuckles, folding his hands on the desk. “don’t worry about it. there’s no set procedure for these things, we can talk about anything from your child’s classroom behaviour to their report card.”

you seem to relax a little, nodding. “i just want to know how she’s doing. it’s her first year at this school so it’s a bit an adjustment.”

he glances down at his notes. “well, she’s a pleasure to have in class. very respectful, helpful, and a great leader. just last week she convinced my classroom of third graders to use part of recess to pick up trash around the playground. so, on second thought, maybe persuasive is the right word?”

“oh, for sure,” you laugh, a fond look on your face. “she somehow persuaded her dad to convince me to get her a rabbit. she’s recently learned to weaponise the ‘i don’t have a sibling’ argument.”

“smart girl,” he comments. suga bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from asking about the father. why wasn’t he here?

instead he asks, “so, do you have any questions about the report card?”

“i do, actually!” you say, reaching into your messenger bag to retrieve a neatly folded piece of paper. “it says here that third grade is when you start introducing the kids to english. do you find that she struggles with it at all? i know it’s premature of me to ask considering it’s only been a month and a half, but she spends summers with her dad and she always comes back speaking a weird mixture of japanese and spanish.”

“you’re concerned with how speaking two languages might conflict with the introduction of a third?” he checks, trying not to linger too much on the snippet of information he’d just obtained, filing it away for later. so dad doesn’t live at home…

you look adorably embarrassed, sinking in your seat a little. “i know she’s young and has years to learn, but i want to make sure she’s starting off on the right foot.”

“of course,” he nods in understanding. “the english is very introductory. basic comprehension and pronunciation. we don’t dive extremely deep into it until later grades. she’s doing well, and in my opinion isn’t hindered.” he pauses, recalling something from last month. “actually...if she’s learning spanish, it does explain why she likes to roll some of her r’s.”

“yeah, that’s been her thing lately,” you say with a slight roll of your eyes.

the two of you talk a bit more about the report card, reviewing how how she’s doing in mathematics and science. when it comes to art, he shows you a few of the paintings he’d laid out on her desk prior to the meetings.

you pick up the most recent one, humming thoughtfully.

“most of the kids drew pictures of sandcastles or swimming when we talked about the beach,” suga explains. “she drew a picture of her playing beach volleyball with her dad.”

“that’s adorable,” you grin, pulling out your phone to snap a picture. “he’s glad that it’s become their favourite sport.”

“does her dad play in the local league?” he blurts, cheeks turning a little red at his outburst, “you— you don’t have to answer that. i was just wondering because i play a bit with some old classmates. maybe i’ve played him once or twice.”

you don’t seem to mind his question. “he actually plays in argentina.”

“oh,” suga hums, and something strange tingles down his spine. “what position?”

“setter,” you answer.

“really? i do too…” the pieces are beginning to fall into place, and no, there’s no way— “you know, a guy i used to play against in high school actually went to argentina to play pro. he went to aoba johsai.”

you blink a few times. “you know toru?”

for some reason, as soon as he hears that name, his eyes instantly flick to your left hand. he’s a little disappointed but he shouldn’t be surprised, oikawa was always a flirt, and of course he’d land someone as pretty as you.

…except there’s no ring on your finger. not even a tan line, and for some reason he’s relieved.

the rest of your meeting goes by fairly quickly. a few closing comments and praises are exchanged, and when the time comes for you to leave, he stops you.

it doesn’t hurt to ask.

“forgive me if this is too forward but…do you want to get coffee sometime? i understand if you can’t. if you’re—”

“we’re not married. not even dating anymore,” you confirm, as if you’d read his mind. you brush a bit of your hair back, smiling shyly. “so, yes, i’d love to get a coffee with you.”

a/n: I kinda wanna write a second part?? bcs imagine oikawa trying to convince his daughter that he’s a better setter than her favourite teacher

𝐡𝐪 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs: timeskip! osamu, daichi, bokuto, suna send me hc / scenarios asks please thanks brainrot central here also osamu’s made me actually mmmmcmmmmmmmm thx

// nsfw (minors dni !!), f!reader, individual desc tags ~~

♡ osamu ♡ // sobbing, overstim, sloppy

fucks you so brutally into the mattress that you know the next day you’ll feel like you fell asleep on concrete, body aching, bruises forming, pure evidence of his roughness shown on every part of your body

and he makes you cum so many times on his cock, as if you could help yourself otherwise because he just fucks you so good, pounding into your desperate little pussy, needing to feel you squeeze his fat cock

after he’s made you cum enough (read: too many) times, he’ll finally cum deep inside of you, fucking it into your sloppy hole repetitively, pulling his cock out and rubbing it between the folds of your pussy, coating your swollen clit and puffy lips in his thick milky load, wiping whatever’s left on your sticky thighs

and then he eats you out, slinks between your legs and literally devours you until you’re a snotty, crying, sobbing, incoherent mess of a shell of your former self

literally pussy drunk. he cannot help himself. the second that he gets a glimpse of your drenched, creamy cunt, he needs to fucking taste you, eat you, ravage you like you’re the last thing on earth or the best thing he’s ever tasted (you are)

samu eats you out until whichever happens last: either you are sobbing hysterically or he can’t see a single drop of his cum left between your legs. honestly, it’s usually 50/50 of what happens first

sometimes, when he finishes, when you’re an overwrought mess and your pussy is only sheened with his spit, he’ll pull himself up from between your legs, hard once again from how fucking incredible your pussy is, throbbing, hot to the touch, leaking in a constant stream down the side of his veiny cock because he left it unattended while giving undivided attention to you and your pretty cunt

and he’ll nudge your legs wider, spreading your folds apart gently to see how pretty you are inside, how void of cum you are, how much you need to be painted again and he’ll jack off, stroking his length, fucking his fist until he cums right against your pussy, head pressed to your clit so you can feel how forcefully you make him cum, how powerful each stream is, slipping the head inside and letting a few ropes coat your walls

and then he’ll eat you out all over again

♡ daichi ♡ // just kinda hot, fun position

makes you ride him until you have completely exhausted yourself, sweating and head foggy and muscles spent, hands on his chest to brace your bounces, literally just moving on instinct by the time he tells you that he's going to cum

bit separate from the concept, but he is just so handsy while you ride him, will knead your tits and slide his hands up your sides and massage into your thighs even though you're trying to focus on fucking yourself on his cock really intensively and but he can't HELP IT anyway im definitely gonna make a post about how you ride hq men but

but he's so handsy and he guides you, but he doesn't really move you, he more so is just savoring how fucking good you look and how your skin feels against his

he'll finally sit you down completely on his cock, holding your hips in place as he cums inside of you, trying not to instinctively thrust his hips into you because he knows he'll make a mess

“just like that, stay right there seated on my cock, take it all, every drop”

so he fucking stands up, staggering towards the wall with your legs wrapped weakly around him, pussy slick against his stomach, and he lifts you, fucking hoists you by your ass to his mouth, his forehead to your stomach, your back flat against the wall, backs of your thighs atop his shoulders

and it’s so fucking good.

you’re completely expecting to feel off balance and nervous and tense but he has you positioned just right and you feel so safe, but that’s somehow not the biggest thing on your mind right now

your fingers are laced in his hair, grabbing on for stability only, because he has every bit of control in this situation and you are so unbelievably turned on both because you can feel him smearing his cum against his lips as he messily eats you out but also because holy fuck your boyfriend is so hot and strong what the fuck

will eat you out like this for much longer than you think he can. you’re actually amazed at how he can stay upright, buried in your pussy for so long

when he finally lowers you to the bed, arms shaking from holding you up for so long, he kisses you and you can taste his cum on his lips and your cum on his lips and his spit and it is the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced

♡ bokuto ♡ // face riding, puppy pet name, mention of public sex, f!cum eating

always cums really deep inside of you and always begs you to eat it out of you, no matter what

“please, puppy, can’t let it go to waste, please”

like he will fuck you in public and make you hold it in, pull your panties up really far to keep the fabric nice and tight against your pussy, and then eat you out in the backseat of your car

sometimes he has to wait to get home for whatever reason, and he doesn't really mind because by the time you both get home, he’s so hard again.

but he doesn’t like to cum in your pussy twice, he just always loves the feeling of either jerking off or thrusting against you while he eats you out.

eating the cum out of you makes him so fucking horny, almost painfully hard, whimpering and grunting into your pussy as he fucks the tight hole he’s made with his fist

this is totally not what this is about but it’s on my mind so: when he finally does end up cumming from eating you out, he likes to cum directly into your mouth, making sure your lips are tightly encapsulating his head, not too deep in your mouth that it doesn’t coat every single one of your tastebuds, but not too shallow that you miss a single drop. he loves watching you swallow it, follows the lump down your throat and groans when he thinks it hits your stomach.

“see, puppy, some for you too.”

and bo eats such a good diet, exercises frequently and his cum isn’t disgustingly thick or too watery and you love it.

anyway ~~

when you’re just lying on your back, on the edge of the bed, legs spread apart, bo on his knees in front of you, he uses his fingers to scoop out anything that his tongue can’t reach and there’s always cum that his tongue can’t reach because fuck he’s so long and he gets so deep and his load is always so fucking strong

but most of the time, he makes you sit on his face. it’s so easy for him to jerk off like this and he loves that it just drips into his mouth, slowly, like a fucking timer and even though his one arm is busy, the other moves you wherever he wants you to be

when he’s finally finished, having came again and satisfied with the state you’re in, your pussy is always sloppier than when he started. there might not be anymore cum, but fuck it’s so messy and wet and slick with spit.

♡ suna ♡ // kinda soft ngl, lowkey praises

actually kinda really sensual about it, like super fucking disgustingly sensual about it, what else is there to say

it boils down to three things, okay:

one.) suna loves cumming inside of you, can't get enough of feeling your tight pussy get even fucking tighter around his cock, squeezing his length as he throbs, milking every last fucking drop. there’s nothing like it to him. it just feels so fucking good.

two.) suna loves eating you out. you taste so fucking good and he’s really fucking good at it. he knows how good he is at it, loves hearing your reactions and feeling your thighs squeeze around his head and legs wrap around his neck and hands grab at his hair

three.) he just so happened to find out by chance that your pussy is so cute and sensitive after he’s unloaded inside of it, after you’ve came from being filled and you make the prettiest goddamn noises when suna goes down on you at that moment

so after he’s done fucking you and cumming inside of your good little hole, he moves down between your legs, makes sure you’re comfortable with a pillow and ample sheets to hold onto, though he knows you’ll opt for his back or arm or hair or just him

he hooks his arms under both of your legs, pulls you so fucking close to him and eats you out for as long as you want.

will murmur praises into your lips and thighs, telling you that you’re so pretty and taste so good and took such a big load and will stay between your legs until you tap on his shoulder or pull him up to your level and not a second sooner

“so fucking perfect, baby, taste so good, fuckin love you so fuckin much”

bonus.) suna is definitely, honest to god, so attracted to the sight of his cum drooling out of your pussy. it’s different than osamu who loves seeing you a messy, sloppy, obscene mess. suna loves watching you relax, muscles unclenching and his thick load dribbling out of your twitching hole.

he will sit back and just watch it before actually eating you out, kissing your thighs and around your slit, spreading your lips with his thumbs and just staring at it, moaning when it overflows and all comes spilling out.

and when it does all come spilling out, he will rush to catch it, sticking out his tongue and using it as a scoop to make sure it doesn’t touch the sheets, pushing it back into your hole only for it to drip out again

♡ leave a tip ! ♡ ♡ reblogs & likes appreciated ♡

happy valentine’s day everyone!

“iwa, i’m tired.”

“just a few more minutes…”

“but it’s getting dark!”

“shh!”

oikawa crosses his arms over his chest, huffing (as quietly as he can manage as to not get yelled at). “why do you care so much about catching this stupid bug?”

“it’s not stupid,” iwaizumi argues, peering through the leaves of the bush they’re hiding behind, net poised over his shoulder. “it’s for…you know.”

his friend trails off, but even under the low light of the sunset, oikawa can see that his cheeks are tinged pink. “you already gave her the biggest valentine card in the box, iwa. i think she knows you like her.”

“i don’t like her,” he lies anyway, as if oikawa hadn’t been there to witness his best friend writing your name repeatedly on a scrap piece of paper to impress you with how neat and tidy he could write. as if he hadn’t seen him sneak you an extra hershey’s kiss during the movie in class that afternoon. “we’re just friends.”

because when you’re seven years old, not only are cooties very much still a thing, but iwaizumi hajime is probably the stubbornest person oikawa’s sure he’ll ever meet.

which is why they’re sitting in the woods near the park in their neighborhood, even though it’s nearly curfew and their mothers will have both their heads if they come home late. all because iwaizumi is looking for a bug.

iwaizumi, who suddenly slaps a hand over his mouth so hard that his teeth rattle a little as he whisper-shouts, “there it is!”

he uses the handle of his net to point at some moving, fluttering thing that oikawa fully thinks is a leaf for twenty seconds.

“get the jar ready,” iwaizumi instructs, lifting his net off his shoulder and creeping towards the bug.

oikawa just sighs, untwisting the lid on the jar as he watches him leap out of the bush and swing the net around a little frantically. he really needs to make some new friends.

so he’s astounded, really, that when you open the front door and see iwaizumi standing there, covered in twigs and leaves and dirt, to give you a bug for valentine’s day, you squeal in excitement rather than turn your nose in disgust.

unbelievable.

even more so when iwaizumi, the toughest kid in the second grade, looks uncharacteristically shy. the blush on his cheeks deepens when you take the jar, staring at the blue bottle-something butterfly fluttering around inside.

“it matches your hair clip,” iwa mumbles, obviously trying to fight his smile and keep up his so-called bad boy facade (which is a little hard to do, when you’re chasing butterflies all day for your crush). “and you said— you said you liked butterflies, so…”

your hand comes up to touch the delicate little butterfly clip pinning aside your bangs that oikawa himself had never really noticed before.

but then you’re saying thank you, pressing your lips to iwaizumi’s dirt-streaked cheek, and oikawa?

well, to this day he still can’t believe that iwaizumi had his first kiss (if you could even call it that) before him.

–

“iwa, can you just pick one already?”

“i’m trying, but none of these are right. maybe we should go to–”

“but we’re going to be late for practice!”

iwaizumi barely pays his panic any mind, way too absorbed in the variety of grocery store chocolates that probably taste the same as he chuckles, “that sounds like a you problem.”

“of course you’d say that,” oikawa huffs, glaring hard at the back of his friend’s head. “i don’t get a free pass because i’m not allowed to kiss our manager into forgiving my transgressions. so unless you’d let–”

the look his friend shoots over his shoulder is dark. it’s not even a warning look, it’s a threatening one. “if you even try finishing that sentence, i’ll throw something a lot heavier than a volleyball at you once we get to the gym.”

“oh, im so scared,” the setter deadpans. he’s known iwaizumi long enough to no longer be phased by his harsh words, simply reaching over his shoulder and grabbing the first box he sees and dropping it into his lap. “there, can we go now? i’ll even pay.”

but iwaizumi just scoffs, placing the box back on the shelf before rising from his crouch with a frown. “she’s allergic to peanuts, idiot, and she likes dark chocolate more than milk chocolate,”

“well, it doesn’t have to be perfect,” he groans, hand on his hip as he stares at the endless rows of valentine’s treats. “isn’t it the thought that counts?”

just like that, iwaizumi’s harsh glare withers, turning red in the face as he looks off to the side. “it’s our first valentine’s day as a couple. i want it to be.”

oikawa doesn’t even get the chance to argue, shoulders slumping as he trudges behind him out of the store. he really regrets the decision to let iwa drive today.

but it’s worth it, he supposes, when they finally show up for practice - late, obviously - and your scolding is cut short when iwaizumi hajime shyly places a bouquet of roses and box of chocolates in your hand.

it’s worth it, he chuckles to himself, seeing his friend so flustered and happy as you set aside your clipboard and gifts to wrap your arms around him, pressing kisses to his face.

making everyone else in the gym feel very single.

–

it’s not your first valentine’s day, or your second, or third. by now, the concept of celebrating the most romantic day of the year is well-worn like a pair of old yet comfortable leather gloves.

yet when you wake on february 14th - a monday, this year - there’s a vase of pale pink and white flowers sitting on your nightstand, along with a card and a little box of chocolates from your favourite shop downtown for the two of you to share.

well-worn as this holiday might be, the sight never makes your heart flutter as you nudge your warm face deeper into the pillow.

you hear him before you see him, the door creaking open and the bed dipping behind you as he slides back under the covers.

“happy valentine’s day,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “i love you lots.”

you roll over to face him, and your big, strong athletic trainer whines a little, wrapping his arms around your waist before burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“happy valentine’s day, baby,” you sigh, the cool stroke of the wedding band as he slides his hands underneath your shirt, gently smoothing over your spine making you feel unreasonably giddy. “you want me to make breakfast? i’ll do blueberry pancakes.”

“with cinnamon?” he asks, though you know he knows the answer. “and can you–”

“make them into the shape of a heart? yes, hajime, i will.”

your husband just hums happily, holding you a little tighter as he goes over his plans for your picnic at the park later today, not wanting to keep the butterflies waiting.

not fair // masterlist

in which your boyfriend is perfect in every single way... except for one and kei can't just sit back and watch you suffer...

~ ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 27652 ᴡᴏʀᴅs status: in progress mar23 ( 5 / 6 chapters posted ) fic & masterlist updated every monday! ~~

the general vibe: 18+ very nsfw, cheating, really nasty smut, first names, seriously a lot of smut, very subtle feelings in the beginning, plot gets more prevalent as you get further into the chapters what you're getting yourself into: degradation, dom/sub undertones, rough sex, guys really a lot of smut, reader is pathetically needy ngl, i wrote this 3 years ago, size kink (but not like that), dirty talk, eventual cucking, afab reader she/her pronouns, will provide tags for each chapter!! ~~

yes, this was crossposted from ao3, you probably have already read it there !! ♡

ch1. "i don't know if you can handle me"

ch2. “well, what are you calling me for?”

ch3. “you ruined me too, i guess”

ch4. “what? you want to watch me fuck your ex?”

ch5. “don’t question me again or i’ll leave”

ch6. (coming soon) “i hope you had your fill of feeling in control”

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡