𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜. (bokuto Kōtarō X Reader)

a new ship has been made and i honestly find it kinda cute

It was not often when you two had arguments, but oh boy..when you did. You are angrily yelling at him. you didnt know what came over you...amd you just spit at him. He is shocked, amused even and can't belive what you did...but after all..he is sucker for unpredictable woman, since he is unpredictable man himself. He smirks as he grabs your chin while pinning you against the wall..he looks down at you and slips his thumb between your lips as he whispers huskily.

"Open your mouth, my turn"

-> SUNA, kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, OIKAWA, iwaizumi, kuroo, sugawara, ATSUMU.

purge me, purgatory

character: caleb warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudo-cest, noncon that turns into dubcon, a hint of dacryphilia, toxic masculinity, reader is a bit of a brat, size difference, manipulation, praise, caleb can get a little mean, nightmares, toxic relationship, power dynamics, pet names words: 5.3k

notes: i started working on this piece before caleb had even been released and i am SO glad i finally finished editing it. this also wasn’t supposed to be nearly as long as it became but alas, such is my curse (◞‸◟；) please heed the warnings above and stay safe!

You know Caleb has nightmares. You’ve seen the toll they take on him: exhaustion hanging heavy over hunched shoulders, staining sunken eyes with rings of purple, face twisted into a grimace as he collapses in the chair across the table from you, an untouched bowl of apple oatmeal steaming in front of him.

“Another one?” you’d always say, voice so kind and cautious, so wan and worried, bottom lip caught between your teeth muddling the question. 

“Yeah,” he’d always respond, dragging a hand down his face as if he’s trying to scrub the fatigue from his features. “But don’t worry about me, pipsqueak. I’m okay.” 

You know Caleb has nightmares—but they’ve never been as bad as this one. 

Because tonight, it wakes you from your slumber, roused gently from sleep’s embrace by the rough whimpers seeping through the thin drywall separating your bedroom from his. 

They sound painful, terrified little noises that keep catching on the uneven hitches of his breath or splintering sharply in his throat, unintelligible pleads sprinkled throughout, too muffled for you to make out the content and chopped up by hiccups.

A dull, dense pang sears through your heart at his yelped out No!, emotion growing thick in your throat and stinging your eyes. Fingers curling in linen, you hug your blanket to your chest, a feeble attempt to quell the ache.

There’s nothing worse than hearing your big brother—your one and only protector, always—in such intense agony. 

And it isn’t stopping. 

It’s too much to bear, your nose beginning to twitch with the threat of tears, and you kick your legs free from your duvet, bare feet hitting cold hardwood a moment later. 

“C-Caleb?” your timid voice soaks into the wood of his bedroom door, followed by a soft rap of knuckles. “Caleb, are you alright?” 

You’re met with a deafening silence, so thick you swear you can feel it weighing down on your chest, lungs crushed beneath the force, ears ringing with it.

“Caleb?” you press your ear flush to the door, eyes squeezed shut in concentration—the ruffling of sheets, the quiet groan of a bedspring, and then, a sniffle. 

Something cracks in your chest, splits itself open so big and so wide it has you hunching over in pain, shoulders curling inward as if your body is trying to keep from tearing apart, one hand flattened over your sternum, the other gripping the brass doorknob.

Another sniffle and the knob is turning, the door falling open, your body stumbling through the threshold. 

Your breathing is laboured, ragged and unevenly shoved from your lungs by a rapidly palpitating heart, a choked version of his name mangling itself in your throat.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, but his voice is thin, weak, fragile, fingertips thumbing aggressively at his eyes, flesh mopping up remnants of teardrops.

It’s a tone of voice that you’ve never heard before, a tone that turns your blood to shards of ice in your veins, a tone that has unease blooming at the base of your spine, crawling up the notches one by one. 

Because Caleb has never been afraid before; you’ve never seen Caleb afraid before. Out of the two of you, he’s always been the strong one, the brave one, the ‘I-can-and-I-will-take-on-anything’ one. He’s always been your guardian angel, your watchdog, your shield from all the bad and scary things in the world. 

You thought he always would be—it is what he promised, after all. 

But right now he looks so small surrounded by a crumpled sea of cotton, tufts of hair clinging to his sweat-drenched temples, muscles tense and rigid, like a predator ready to pounce at the slightest hint of danger.

It has you rushing towards him, falling into his waiting arms—trembling, but safe—and clutching at the collar of his worn t-shirt. Instinctively, your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, cedar and peppermint streaming down your throat to fill your lungs with him. Your chest swells with his essence, held deep within your core, a natural sedative, your heart beginning to slow.

Home; your big brother will always smell like home. 

You allow yourself another moment to steep in his scent before you finally pull back to look at him, hands clasped tightly around his neck, fingers toying with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck—a nervous habit for you, a calming sensation for him.

“What happened?” 

“Nightmare,” he chuckles, but the word is shaky. “Pretty standard stuff. Nothin’ to be concerned about, pipsqueak.” 

And his facade of nonchalant is good, but it isn’t good enough to fool you.

Frenetic eyes search his face, noting the sheen of cold sweat glazing his skin, the salt that has dried his lashes in thick spikes, the panic swimming in violet irises, concern weighting the corners of your lips. 

“Caleb,” you begin slowly, “you woke me up.” 

His brow furrows, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I…Did? Has that ever happened before?” 

And that’s all it takes, really, to have Caleb switching into his Big Brother Mode, stern and straight to business, the need to know if he’s disrupted your precious sleep before much more important than the terror he was experiencing mere moments ago, as if your comfort matters more than his own. 

“No,” your fingers push into his hair and his head dips, a hum vibrating in his chest. “This one was bad. I can tell.” 

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, his neck curving more, his forehead nearly bumping against your collarbone.

“I’m worried it’ll come back the moment you close your eyes,” you admit, nails raking along his scalp, a shiver coursing through his body, following your ministrations. 

“How many times do I gotta tell you? You don’t need to worry about me.” 

And although it’s supposed to be a reprimand, it comes out soft, no heat to his voice as his head follows your touch, tilting to the side and allowing your fingers more room to move.

He has told you, many times before in many different tones, but that doesn’t mean you’ll ever actually listen. 

It isn’t your fault; you can’t help how much you care for him.

“Just because I don’t have to, doesn’t mean I won’t,” you huff out, a bite to your voice. “It doesn’t matter how many times you say it; it isn’t going to stop me from caring about you, so you might as well—”

He looks up suddenly, brows knitted and eyes hard. 

“Who’s the big brother here, huh?” violet scours your face, his gaze bright and sharp, searching for an answer. “Who’s job is it to take care of who?”

“It is our job to take care of each other,” you say, palms flattening to the sides of his head and inhibiting him from looking away. “It’s a joint effort, Caleb.” 

The hinges of his jaw flex beneath your touch, a forceful sigh flaring his nostrils, his shoulders deflating a little in your stark stubbornness. An argument is nipping at the tip of his tongue, desperate to pry past his lips and reassert authority, but his teeth clench, molars grinding together. 

“Why don’t I stay with you tonight?” you continue, thumb smoothing out that thick vein in his forehead. “Might make you feel better if you’re not alone—kind of like the way we used to make blanket forts in the living room during really bad thunderstorms.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that—” 

“Come on,” you whisper, brushing a strand of damp hair back from his temple. “Let your little sister take care of you for once, yeah?” 

“I’m fine—I’ll be fine—”

“You always say I make everything better, so…” you shrug, eyes searching his. “Let me make this better. Please.” 

The sincerity straining your voice is potent, so much so that he swears he can feel it surrounding him in a suffocating embrace, soaking into his skin and permeating his muscles with something dense and heavy. It weighs him down, roots him to your aura, immobilizing him physically and mentally, the sweetest poison.

Swallowing, he looks away from your piercing eyes.

“It’s not—”

“Caleb,” you whine out, petulant, his name dripping out stringy and thick through a pout. “What is with this reluctance to allow me to take care of you every once in a while? It’s not fair.” 

You sound like a fucking child, and for a moment Caleb is transported back to your shared youth, that telltale pout a lethal weapon he has encountered many times before, that telltale pout a lethal weapon he has yet to find a defence from, an antidote for.

And you, well, you know this—he knows you know this, your infamous brattiness finally making an appearance, usually a foolproof way to get what you want from him, even it if comes with a hefty dose of reprimand. 

Your gaze, glassy and hard, is framed by furrowed brows, nose scrunched up in typical distaste.

His stare searches your own, and you hold your expression open for him—so willing, so wanting—his own eyes darkening with something you can’t quite place. A shiver skitters up your spine, but you swallow against the unease, continuing. 

“I want to help,” you say. “Please.” 

It isn’t right—he doesn’t need your help, shouldn’t need your help, fated to the role of big brother and, by extension, Man of the House; if anything, it should always be him comforting you. 

Well, that, and the undeniable fact that having you in such close proximity—so intimate, sharing a bed after a nightmare—is tantalizing, and that makes it dangerous. 

But he doesn’t know how to say any of that, how to thread those thoughts into sentences and push them from his disinclined tongue.

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to. 

Either way, it doesn’t matter, because in the end you get your way, just like you always do—just like he always lets you. 

“Alright,” he finally says, the word nothing more than a defeated huff of breath. “Alright.”

Disappointment sinks hard and heavy in his chest, and Caleb bites his cheek, disgusted with himself. It’s stupid to feel such dismay; he should be used to this by now. Maybe he had hoped that this time, he would be strong enough to deny you. How utterly silly of him to believe he was capable of such a feat.

“Gosh,” you roll your eyes, playfully nudging his nose with your own. “Don’t sound so excited.”

But your amusement is not contagious, Caleb’s expression steadfastly dismal, your smile fading as your brow crinkles in confusion.

“Hush, now,” he says, but his voice is gentle, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “You need rest.” 

The numbers glowing on his nightstand indicate that yes, you do need rest, you both need rest, and you nod, allowing Caleb to manhandle the two of you beneath his blankets.

The delicate scent of warm toffee and fresh orchid engulf him, one of Caleb’s strong arms curled around your waist, slotting your back up against his chest.

“Sleep,” he instructs, the order rumbling his ribs, his voice low and gruff. “My little protector.” 

“Shut up,” you mumble, but your eyes slip shut. “You’ll be thanking me in the morning.”

But Caleb’s not so sure. 

Because despite your presence being warm and comforting and full of home, Caleb can’t fucking sleep. 

Because you are too fucking close. Abnormally close; inappropriately close, and it’s driving him up the Goddamn wall. 

He’s tried everything—first shuffling away a little, just to put a couple inches of space between your bodies; close enough for you to still feel his presence, and for him to still feel yours, but not too close to be considered indecorous. 

When that didn’t work, when your body sensed the loss and instinctually sought out his own, Caleb shoved himself so his back was pressed flush to the drywall—as far as he could possibly get without physically removing himself from the bed entirely—but that didn’t help, either. 

Because you’re like a little magnet, attracted to his body heat, burrowing through wrinkled sheets to glue yourself to his form as if it is natural, normal, entirely intuitive. 

Even in sleep, you’re greedy. 

Caleb supposes he’s even worse. 

Caleb could, realistically, turn away from you—present you with his sculpted back and protect his front from your unconscious attacks; or leave the bed entirely, opting to sleep on the too-small, too-scratchy sofa in the living room downstairs so he doesn’t have to worry about hands with minds of their owns—hands desperate to touch and grope and mark, hands that can’t keep to themselves. Caleb could wake you up and firmly insist that you go back to your own bed, exercising his Big Brother Authority and overruling any and all of your rebuttals and arguments—but he doesn’t, because he can’t. 

Because he’s fucking weak, weak to his own wicked whims, a slave to his sins, drowning in his own desire. It’s too good of an opportunity to give up, his deepest, darkest indulgences presented to him on a platinum platter, crafted by the devil himself. And Caleb isn’t strong enough to resist it’s enticing allure, ironclad willpower melted to sticky silver in the heat of your body, seeping from your flesh into his, poisoning his blood and his brain.

That’s what you do to him; you eat up his logic and spit it back out, mangled and gross, you consume his highly prized self respect and military-grade discipline and reduce him to something desperate and degenerate. 

And eventually, finally, his worst nightmare comes true. 

It’s stifling in his bed, the fabric of his t-shirt damp with sweat—yours, his, does it matter?—and plastered to his body. His tongue has turned to sand in his mouth, dry and grating and heavy. Swallowing does nothing to alleviate the discomfort, the action rough and sticky, the gummy walls of his throat sticking together with the motion.

Water would be nice, but there’s no way for Caleb to slip from your embrace—a thigh thrown over his hip, a palm pressed to his sternum—without ruining your peaceful slumber. 

And you do look oh-so-peaceful; so serene, so ethereal, so fucking breathtaking that it’d be a crime to spoil such a sight.

Moonbeams stream through the window, painting you in strokes of translucent silver. It catches on the beads of sweat adorning your neck, dewdrops that glitter with the steady throb of your jugular, and Caleb feels saliva begin to flood the underside of his tongue, thick and slimy. 

Sweat has water in it, doesn’t it? 

It happens before he even has a chance to think it through, a primal desire his body knew needed to be met, tongue unfurling from its cavern slow and sick to trace along that jagged pulse.

Your neck arches into his taste, offering him more—such a good little sister, you are—and he takes, a slave to temptation, tongue flattening against your flesh and licking one long, wide stripe from the notch of your collarbone to the hinge of your jaw.

It’s delicious, better than anything he could’ve ever imagined, and Caleb laps at you again, harder this time, rougher this time. 

Your essence, salty sweat and bitter perfume, explodes on his tastebuds, and something rattles, roars to life, deep within his chest. It ignites a hunger within him that cannot be sated— dark, desirous, depraved as it claws at his sternum, no matter how much he takes, it always wants more, his desperate attempt to feed it only working to make it more voracious.

It awakens the monster rooted at the core of his soul, a sordid creature borne of something illicit and sinister and wrong many years ago. It sparks the ever-simmering addiction kindling in his rotten, charred heart—a craving that flares higher, burns brighter with every passing second, leaving him intoxicated and stupid, drunk on your aura.

If he doesn’t cut it out he’s going to lick your skin raw—how many licks to get to your sugary sweet center?—your saccharine sweat staining his tongue. 

His mouth latches over your collarbone and sucks, tongue swirling around the knob as his teeth scrape, nipping superficially. Tiny tangles of capillaries snap beneath the force, violet flooding the tissues beneath the thin barrier of skin—and oh, how sweet your blood must taste, how shameful to have it trapped beneath your flesh. 

A soft moan vibrates in your throat as Caleb seals the mark with another heavy lave, pressing a singular kiss to the rapidly developing bruise. Pulling back slightly, violet eyes sweep across the mess he’s made of your flesh, fleeting marks that will fade much too quickly for his liking.

A callused thumb ghosts over the bloom, an involuntary whimper catching in his throat. 

“So pretty,” he breathes to himself, caressing the mark again. 

A delicate shiver quivers through your flesh, procured by his airy words, and Caleb coos, tongue washing over your skin again in a crude caress, his hot breath cool against the glaze of saliva he’s painted in its wake. 

“Y’like that?” he whispers, the question barely more than a wisp wafting over your soaked skin. “Y’want me to do it again?” 

You answer with the softest mewl and a groan rumbles his ribcage, his hips snuggling between your spread thighs, a dainty wheeze pressed from your chest as his weight bears down on you. 

His tongue lolls out from between his teeth, thick strings of drool dripping off the tip to drizzle along your neck, sopped up a mere moment later as the slick muscle rolls along your flesh, following the scrape of his front teeth. 

Another gentle tremble ripples through your form—such precious responses to your big brother’s mouth!—and he runs his teeth along the curve of your throat again, revelling in how such simple actions can pull such gorgeous reactions from you, entirely subconscious. 

That must mean you like it, right? Such responses clearly connote your enjoyment, don’t they? You ought to know, on some subconscious level, that it is your big brother doing this—that it is Caleb’s lips and Caleb’s tongue and Caleb’s spit, that it is Caleb that you are reacting to.

It’s impossible to quell the slow gyrating of his hips as he feasts on your flesh, aching cock grinding against your thigh in messy little circles, fully hard and tenting flannel. He can feel the small pool of pre-cum steadily garnishing the slit, leaking through his PJ pants to leave shimmering smears of his perverted pleasure along the silky skin of your inner thigh.

He’s getting greedy—he knows he is, but he just can’t seem to restrain himself, your essence too alluring to resist; a compulsion, uncontrollable and unquenchable.

He should stop before you wake to your big brother gnawing at your neck and humping your thigh; really, that’s what any good, decent big brother would do. Your rest is important, after all. 

He should do a lot of things.

But he doesn’t, because he can’t. 

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to. 

The sensations are overwhelming; something he’s spent several years denying himself, something he’s spent several years dreaming about—it doesn’t count if it’s just in his head, right?—and he finds himself drowning in it, embraced in the ecstasy.

“God, fuck,” he whimpers, curse cracking in his throat. “You feel so—so good.”

Forehead pressed into the crown of your head, his breath is sweltering and damp along your hairline, rough little moans spilling from his lips with each rut of his pelvis. 

“Y’so perfect for me, letting me use you like this,” he manages to gasp out, eyes squeezed shut, imagining how stunning you must look in the throes of pleasure; dazed eyes glazed with lust and rolling back in your skull, lips licked raw and mouth dropped open as the sweetest symphony plays on your tongue, spine bowing off his mattress as pure rapture climbs the notched vertebrae.

Oh, what he’d give to see such a sight, just once.

He wishes he could trick himself into thinking that a singular instance of experiencing such beauty would be enough to keep him from committing such a heinous act of indecency ever again, but he knows that isn’t true. 

Because already he wants more, gluttonous for your body, yearning to be buried in the warmth of your sweet little cunt; and he’s barely taken anything at all yet. Caleb can’t imagine what sort of creature this monster would evolve into under such circumstances. Too much is never enough. 

Caleb sure as hell can’t trick himself into believing such nonsense, but he sure as hell can trick you. 

He doesn’t realize you’ve awoken until he hears your tiny voice, muffled by his chest, fingers pressing into his tensing abs. 

“Cae—Caleb?” his hips stutter at the sudden sound—so quiet, so scared—his cock twitching against your leg. “What are you doing?”

“Shh,” he hushes you, body sliding down yours so he can search your face, so you can see the sincerity, the desperation, shining in his gaze, his cock pressed hot and hard against your core. “Just—” his hips roll once, a groan catching in his throat as his shaft is enveloped by your swollen lips, so easy to feel through the flimsy fabric of your pyjama shorts. “—Enjoy it.” 

“Wh-What?”

“Come on, just this once.” 

“Caleb,” you begin, and the fear in your voice, tinged with a sick sort of curiosity, has another moan clawing at the back of his tongue, hips rolling into yours slow and purposeful. “This isn’t right…” 

“No one has to know,” he slurs out, nuzzling his cheek against your temple in a crude form of comfort. “We keep so many secrets—what’s one more?”

“No, Caleb—” your hands furl into fists, pushing into lean muscle, and a dark, decadent sound of amusement drips from Caleb’s lips. Oh, how pathetically precious the you think you could ever shove him off. 

But your squirming is beginning to annoy him, that telltale aggression building in his chest—an anger only you seem to evoke, especially when you’re being uncooperative—and he snarls, pulling back a little to fix you with an unimpressed look, his hips pinning you to his bed. 

“Tell me it doesn’t feel good,” he glares at you, his words a cross between a growl and a whine, and it’s hard to tell if it’s a demand or a plead. “Go on, fucking tell me. Say ‘it doesn’t feel good, Caleb. Your cock doesn’t feel good, Caleb’. Come on.” 

Your lids clamp shut in the face of his intense, invasive stare, tears blossoming along the seam of your lashes, a pitiful squeak catching in your throat as your head shakes.

“No? Why not?” A hand wreathes itself around your jaw, blunt nails biting into your cheeks, the pain causing your eyes to spring open. “Is it because you can’t?” 

The question has that same taunting tone he’s used since you were kids—that infuriatingly blasé I’m-better-than-you cadence, the one that proclaims that you’re stupid and he’s superior, that he always wins—and a fierce flame of determination ignites within your ribs, eyes hardened and teeth barred. 

“It—It doesn’t feel—Oh, oh, Cae—”

And you’re trying, trying so desperately to force those words from your tongue, to spit them from your lips and devour the smugness glinting in his eyes, but then he’s moving again, the slick head of his cock rubbing over your clit in precise movements—back and forth, back and forth. 

That isn’t fair, but when has Caleb ever played fair, really?

He’s got you completely trapped beneath his body now, his knees digging into the mattress as he shifts his weight, forcing your thighs open wider.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.” 

“I—It’s not—It doesn’t—” A mewl of frustration slices your sentence, chased by a groan of defeat. 

“C’mon, angel, spit it out already if it doesn’t feel good.” 

Squinting in the face of his mocking stare, you steel yourself, throat rippling with a thick swallow of resolve. 

“We shouldn’t—” The sentence splinters with a whine, your words pulled taught between virtue and desire. 

Tears cloud your eyes, rendering Caleb nothing more than a shimmering blur, and you blink rapidly in an attempt to clear them, tiny droplets caught by your lashes. 

“You’re a terrible liar, y’know that?” he breathes, the question damp on the shell of your ear. “I can feel how turned on you are, silly little girl.” 

His hips rock forward once in accentuation, the movement slow and purposeful, as if to prove a point. His clothed cock glides over your drenched cunt with ease and the head strokes your swollen clit again, another torrent of heat rushing to the apex of your thighs. 

“And you know what this tells me?” his voice drops to a whisper. “It tells me you like it.”

Pins of humiliation erupt across your cheeks, tingling heat flooding your face. A soft sob stutters your chest, head shaking in weak denial—a denial that you like it, or simply a denial that this isn’t moral, neither of you can be sure.

“Besides, don’t you wanna take my mind off that stupid nightmare?” His voice drops an octave, deep and devious, chills skittering across your skin. “This—” he rolls his hips once in emphasis, “this will help.” 

“Cae…” 

And he can hear it; can hear the internal struggle reflected in your voice, a tug-of-war between the need to please and the obligation to do what’s right.

“Come on, be a good little sister for me—you said you wanted to make me feel better, right? This will make me feel better. This will make me forget all about it.” 

This will bring him to the crest of bliss, the closest to Heaven he’s sure he’ll ever get. 

“I…I don’t—” 

“Why can’t you just enjoy it with me, huh?” Caleb murmurs, dragging the words along your jaw then planting a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Give in to it. Just this once.”

It doesn’t take much coaxing before you’re nodding into his neck, body gone slack beneath his own; you’ve always been so easy for him, so eager to obey even with venom in your mouth and fire in your eyes. Caleb supposes that’s just a big brother’s influence. 

Because no matter how much you retaliate, how much you taunt and tease him, you have always wanted to be his good little girl. Praise from Caleb is sacred, precious, and rarely doled out. It must be savoured, protected, cherished. 

And so you allow your big brother to find comfort in you, in the warmth of your body, in the melody of your moans, praying that this short-lived ecstasy will be enough to cleanse his mind of its nightmares.

“There’s my good girl,” he hums, pleasant and triumphant, the reverence sealed with a chaste kiss to the edge of your hairline. 

Then he’s pulling away and sitting back on his heels, an arrogant little smirk materializing on his lips at the discontented whine that sounds at the back of your throat. Violet stares down at you with such passion it nearly burns, his callused palms pushing your knees open wider, following the V of your thighs until finally, finally, he reaches the apex. 

“Fucking Christ.”

Drenched silk outlines the contours of your cunt—No undies, huh? How naughty—and Caleb reaches out, tracing the shape, pointer finger ghosting over every bump and dip and curve. 

“Gorgeous,” he breathes to himself, gaze hungry and unblinking, enchanted by your body—enraptured by your arousal, captivated by your reactions; the way every graze of his fingertip sends a delicate wave of pleasure tremoring through your flesh; the way his touch makes your lashes dither, unsure if they want to stay open or snap shut. “Let me see it.”

Potent lust leaves his voice husky, and while his sentence is a statement, it comes out as a plead—desperate, desirous. 

Vying fingers pull your sleep shorts aside to reveal your glistening cunt, a whine vibrating deep in the back of his throat. Chest heaving with yearning, his trance stays unbroken, his mouth parted and his tongue pulsing with each of his heavy breaths. 

For a moment everything is still, silent, Caleb revelling in the radiance of your body.

Then something snaps, the final thread of thin resistance broken, and he’s surging forward, teeth catching on your upper lip as his mouth collides with yours, procuring the prettiest little yelp to crack in your chest. He swallows it down greedily, tongue breaking through the barriers of lips and teeth to lavish your mouth in his spit. 

His hips are moving again, shoved snug between your spread thighs, sharp hipbones carving bruises into supple flesh. Each forceful roll of his pelvis has his cockhead catching on your hole—so close, so close—a vicious shudder coursing through his form.

And he can feel it, he can feel your cunt through the thin flannel of his pyjamas—teasing him, taunting him, tempting him, each gentle contraction begging for him to stuff it full—another groan rattling from his mouth into yours. 

It’s all simultaneously too much and not enough, the soft breaths of his name exhaled hot and heavy onto his waiting tongue and the eager fluttering of your cunt desperate to suck him in and the nails scrabbling at the back his neck and—and Caleb feels like he’s going to burst out of his fucking skin, flesh starting to split at the seams, if he doesn’t get more, now. 

He’s hardly aware of what he’s doing, moving on pure instinct as a hand snakes between your bodies and paws at the waistband of his pants, the heel of his palm pushing it down just enough to free his aching cock.

A faint Caleb, no, wait! tugs at the back of his consciousness, blotted out by sheer lust as his palm wraps around the base of his cock, head bumping purposefully against your hole. 

The cry that shatters in your throat as he shoves himself into your cunt is nothing short of gorgeous, his own responding whine straining his throat. One quick, hard thrust to bury himself to the hilt is all it takes before his cock is throbbing, filling you with copious amounts of cum—so much, too much, and Christ, when has he ever cum like this?

It’s so intense that it has his whole body tensing, pleasure whiting his vision and wiping his mind and all he can smell, feel, taste is you, you, you—toffee and orchid shooting straight to his brain, your body knotted with his, hips rocking up in desperate little movements as you try to fuck yourself on his spent cock, your sounds of pleasure sweet on his tongue and he licks into your mouth, starved for more. 

“Caleb, Caleb, Caleb!” 

“M’here, baby,” he slurs against your mouth, rubbing his lips into yours. “M’here, come on, make a mess for me.” 

He isn’t even sure you cum—something he’ll berate himself for in the morning—but in the moment it doesn’t even matter, his brain so poisoned by the pleasure that it’s turned to a pulsating mush, intoxication flooding his veins as he submerges himself in you. His hips stutter as his cock twitches with those last few ribbons of cream, almost as if he’s trying to fuck his seed deeper into you, before his trembling muscles finally give out, Caleb collapsing on top of you. 

“God,” he gasps out, lips moving against the crown of your head. “Th-Thank you.” 

The gratitude is punctuated by a kiss to your hair, his breath hot and erratic on your scalp. 

“Thank you,” he says again, a singular arm twined around your waist as he manhandles you both onto your sides, your body cradled close to his chest.

And for the first time in a long time, Caleb falls into a peaceful sleep. 

you ever think about how they'll probably see this picture in a yearbook when they're 60 years old and reminisce about their time as a part of the karasuno volleyball club? cuz i do all the time

part 1: “you wanna see daddy’s cock? yeah, you miss it already, don’t you?”

you nod eagerly, suddenly feeling shy about how desperate you are. atsumu can tell from the flush spreading across your face and the way you suck on your bottom lip. 

“my little girl,” he groans. you can see his arm moving faster and you see his face for only another moment before he switches to the back camera. “stick that tongue out for me,” he breathes. the waistband of his uniform shorts lays halfway down his thick, chiseled thighs, his legs outstretched in front of him as he sloppily strokes himself. he spits into his hand and you can hear the wet sounds, the lewd, shameless panting. “fuck.”

you do as you’re told, looking straight into the camera with your tongue out, purposely letting a little drool run down. he moans and the loud squelching sounds get faster, his technique gets messier. you can feel your pussy drooling, squeezing your thighs together, desperate for friction. desperate for him.

“look at it, sweetheart. don’t be shy. look at daddy’s cock,” he groans out. “god, my little girl is so slutty for me, yeah, just look at me, watch me cum for you baby, that’s it – getting close.”

you can’t help the little noise you make when he says that. his accent, the commanding tone of his voice and the sight of him fisting his cock to the sight of your face is all too much. “yes, daddy,” is all you can manage, sucking on your lip again, blinking innocently at him through the camera.  

“good girl – oh fuck, fuck, good girl!” he hitches his jersey up to expose his stomach and chest, brings the camera in closer so you can watch his tip glisten and disappear into his fist as he twists his hand around it just like you do. “gonna cum for you baby.” 

the muscles in his thighs twitch and his hips buck into his fist as he comes undone with a satisfied groan, cock twitching uncontrollably, cum covering the dips of his abs and the hem of his black and yellow jersey.   

switching back to the front camera, he drags his tongue along his lips and looks back at you with a sly grin. his eyes are sleepy and narrowed, his gaze alone making you throb. “bet you’re nice and wet for me now, aren’t you? show daddy, little girl. let me see how you touch yourself. go on.” 

currently thinking abt perv!sugawara ... anything u do makes him so hard and when he finally gets to fuck u, he’s saying the filthiest shit to u, telling u ur too pretty not to ruin n overstimulating u bc he’s genuinely drunk on how good u feel ... thoughts? 😁

>.>

— pervert! sugawara + mentions of pantie ripping + pierced dick! sugawara + minor dub con + creampie + f! reader

his gazes are always lingering over you. you can feel the heavy weight of it, but everytime you look directly at him it’s morphed into something sweet and light.

it’s when you turn your head to look away that it’s heavy once more.

he always treats you so well; offering to open doors, gives you any seat you want, drapping his jacket over your shoulders when you’re cold.

koushi always tells you with a velvet tone just how cute you are, doting easily upon you. he doesn’t tell you how it’s your cute face the only thing that flitters through his mind when he fists his cock over and over in bed- always after being around you, the scent of your hair fresh in his mind. he grasps at the memory of you while he does, it’s always that much sweeter when you’ve just left his home.

he doesn’t know how he got you like this, disbelief that he’s tasting, touching, feeling the real thing that is you.

the confession tumbles from his lips like a prayer, eyes lidded- once more looking at you. this time wanting you to see how he drinks in the form of you so nice and pretty under him.

“dreamt about this... for a long time.” sugawara whispers, the deep and twisted satisfaction of seeing your wrists turn in his hold- tugging to test the strength of his one hand capturing both of them in a frantic need.

“watched you every change i had- wanting you for no one else but me... and now that i have you...” he sighs, tugging his hips forward, dragging the weight of him through your folds.

“i almost don’t wanna do anything else.”

lips curl up into a smile, crescent eyes so pretty and soft- clear juxtaposition to the way his naked and pierced cock is lying over your cunt, ripped panties and bottoms forgotten in a messy pile by your hip.

“too pretty- don’t wanna messy up your cute cunt, my love.”

the high whine that leaves your lips sounds like the prettiest symphony he’s ever heard, like a bell.

your frantic wiggling once the piercing bumps against your clit makes it all so much better- he doesn’t comment on it, lets you figure it out while you stare at him with big dumb eyes- knowing exactly that there’s that odd foreign hardness lying nice on the tip of him.

he nods slightly no words needed to confirm your unspoken question, watching your lips part- gasping.

how you look and sound beneath him by far exceeding the nastiest and wildest dreams that have plagued him since he’s had the pleasure of seeing you for the first time- so seemingly unobtainable, but now lying tummy up on his bed- drooling all over the underside of his throbbing cock.

there was a certain want to edge himself- truly not wanting to distort the pretty picture he’s painted of you in his head- but if you look this good, already feel this good and receptive and needy... the thought of sliding his cock inside you would surely be euphoric.

he shivers at the way your slick paints the heavy metal pierced through the tip of his cock, air cooling down the metal significantly.

it’s enough for him to swallow down the need to keep you squirming and whining for him.

“gunna warm my cock- nice and wet inside you, can i?”

it’s all rhetorical- knowing you want him like he wants you, sliding in before the sentence leaves his mouth.

his head tips forward, mouth agape with every breath that leaves his mouth in heavy pants, eyes wide at how tight you squeeze around him.

he swears he can feel even more of your arousal squeeze out of your tight velvet walls once he bottoms out; painting his pubes and crotch with it all.

now that sugawara has you- he’s never going to let you go, now knowing that the fantasy he’s made in his head of you would and could never compare to the real you.

he swipes a tongue over his lips, once again letting another frame of imagination bleed through while he fucks you, keenly watching your body jolt with the impact of him eagerly pounding you down into the bed.

“gunna c-cum inside you!” he gasps, shaking at your climaxing body, seizing up over and over- a tear slipping from his eyes at how good it all is.

he once again doesn’t give you a moment of reprieve- choosing instead to give in and spurt heavy load after load inside you, huffing out an incredulous laugh at everything; how much cum he’s pumping eagerly into your pulsing squelching walls, how it’s being squeezed out- lying in thick globs where you two meet.

he’s finally got you- he’s got you and you’re all his, cuming sweetly around his cock, clawing at him for more, dick nestled impossibly tight inside as he lets load after load sit inside you.

kakashi

idk i randomly woke up thinking of this buuut do you think you can write one where the s/o is looking really good and they're about to head out for like a business meeting or hanging out with their friends. like how would the hq boys react? you can use anyone you want or are comfy with. i also hope you have a good day and make sure to drink water and get at least a little bit of sun or fresh air :)

HAIKYUU BOYS REACTIONS WHEN YOU DRESS UP TO GO OUT

characters — timeskip!miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurō, miya osamu, suna rintarō, iwaizumi hajime

a/n — warning ⚠️ okay some got a lil suggestive but not too much, im sorry i’m the worst lmao. have an amazing day my love, i hope you enjoy <3 i’m kinda happy w these!

☾ ATSUMU his head shot up from where he lay on the couch once he seen you come into his view from the bedroom, eyes dragging up and down your figure as he groaned when he stood up to walk towards you, his hands immediately grabbing you as he pulled you into his chest “what’s ma baby all dressed up for hmm?” “going out ‘tsumu” he hummed as his head dipped to place gentle kisses up the expanse of your shoulder before travelling up your neck, stopping to suck a visible purple mark just below your ear before he pulled away to admire it “ya sure ya don’t wanna stay home with me?” his facade drops so quick when you playfully shove him away and tell him “no” with a giggle, slaps your ass on your way out the door though.

☾ KUROO he whistled lowly as his eyes met yours as you adjusted your clothes in the bedroom mirror, a smirk already stretching his features as he walked towards you “now, now kitten— all this for me?” you rolled your eyes at his teasing as his arms wrapped around you from behind, admiring your features in the mirror before his hand traced up your body, fingers tightening around your chin, turning your head towards him in favour of placing a gentle peck on your lips before he pulled away to admire you a little longer, silence finally broken as he drawled out his words almost seductively “are you made of Fluorine, Iodine, and Neon? because kitten, you are F-I-Ne” you both end up laughing so hard because he’s such a dork, he tells you to have a good time though, we love him.

☾ OSAMU he was in the kitchen cleaning up when you came into show him your outfit before you left, he smiles so big and immediately opens his arms to wrap them around you, giving your forehead a few kisses before he rests his lips against the skin “how do i look samu?” “ya look amazin’ angel, ya always do.” pulls away to fix any of your clothes he might’ve messed up with how tight he hugged you “ya want anything done for ya comin’ back? are ya gonna eat while yer out or a can make ya somethin’?” you just nod before he walks you to the door, giving you once last longing glance as he checks you out shamelessly “enjoy yerself alright? not too much though, al be waitin’ for ya comin’ home for that.”

☾ SUNA he was scrolling through his phone on the couch when you walked into the room, immediately locking his phone and flinging it down beside him when you walked in as he looks at you with his lips slightly upturned “do i look okay, rin?” he straightens up a little as he pats his lap, arms immediately wrapping around you as he pulls you on top of him, his hands running up the expanse of your thighs as they squeeze at the skin— his gaze never leaving yours, his words almost a raspy groan “fuck, so pretty.” one of his hands moving higher to rest on your neck as his lips slide against yours sweetly, a contrast to the hungry look in his eyes as he grins when he pulls away “send me some photos when you’re out?”

☾ IWAIZUMI you swear you heard him growl when your gaze met his, his muscled arm stretched along the back of the couch as you watch the heat creep up his neck and across his cheeks when you catch his gaze lingering on your figure. his voice comes out deep, one your used to but only in more intimate moments with him as he rises from his place to move closer to you “shit doll, look so fucking good for me.” one of his hands moving around the expanse of your hips as he grabbed a handful of your ass in his palm, lips capturing yours slowly even though his other hand tightened on your waist with more urgency, he pulls away shortly after, gazing down at you with the same blush he’d always had before he’s reaching for his keys “let me drop you off? need to make sure my princess is safe right?”

heyhey! can you do a hq boys w the tiktok prank where you pretend you used his credit card to buy something super expensive? idm which characters but if you could include kuroo that’d be great :} only if you want to, though

HAIKYUU BOYS REACTION TO TIKTOK TREND WHERE YOU PRETEND TO USE THEIR CARD TO BUY SOMETHING EXPENSIVE

characters — timeskip!bokuto kōtarō, kuroo tetsurō, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, suna rintarō

a/n — AAAAAAAAAA i love this trend pls, i wanna be spoiled by these men deadass!!!

☾ BOKUTO always left his credit card lying about so it was easy to end up having it on you for the prank. he brightened immediately as you entered the living room, opening his arms while sat on the couch so you could fall into them. “baby, what’re you doing?” you reached into your back pocket, pulling out his credit card along with your phone as you scrolled through your tags, showing him the bag online “i bought this! isn’t it pretty?” he nods enthusiastically before you scroll down to see the price “babe! it’s $2000, that’s A LOT!” “i used your card though, kou is that okay?” he gasps so loud he almost swallows you “but $2000 is expensive for a bag baby.. don’t you have some already?” “but i really wanted this one..” there’s a moment of silence as his arms tighten around you “you really wanted it?” “yeah..” please there’s a little grin on his face when his eyes meet yours “okay baby! if it makes you happy that’s okay! you’ve been working hard anyway!” when you tell him it’s a prank he literally offers to buy you it.

☾ KUROO was working in his office when youd approached him, asking for his credit card just for a few details for something - his head was a little cloudy, mindlessly taking his wallet out of his slacks before handing it to you, going back to sifting through paperwork before stifling a yawn. you returned later, a giddy grin on your face as he finally finished up his stuff “hey kitten.” one of his arms rose as an invitation for you to crawl underneath as you cuddled into his side “here’s your cards back.” raising a brow before he shrugged “oh yeah, thanks.. forgot about that!” he threw it to the side before placing a kiss against your temple “i bought that jacket i showed you lastnight.” you can feel his gaze burning into your immediately “the $3000 one?” “duh!” he groans before pinching between his brows, wiping a hand down his face “KITTEN, i can’t believe you’re using me for my good looks and money - have you no shame?” goes all floppy and bans you from his wallet lmao, mf tells everyone ur robbing him.

☾ ATSUMU always gave you his card whenever you asked, insisting you take it out on days out with your friends or while running errands - just because he loved spoiling you, so he was quick to hand it over when you asked “ya’d be aswell keepin’ it on ya at all times, angel.” youd returned a few minutes later, giving him it back before he scooped you onto his lap, hand smoothing up your thighs “so what did ya buy? somethin’ pretty?” you nodded as you excitedly scrolled through your phone, showing him a super expensive bag before he almost threw you off his lap in shock “BABY, that’s $3000 dollars though?” “but i really liked it ‘tsum!” his head falls back against the couch as he groans, arms falling by his sides, he literally stays like that for a good 10 seconds like you gotta nudge him alive again before he’s pulling you into him again “if it makes ya happy baby a guess, yer so damn spoiled ya know a cant say no ta yer pretty face!” makes you give him kisses as compensation for the stress.

☾ SAKUSA knew he spoiled you, all you had to do was bat your eyelids at him and he’d fold. so you were easily able to tangle his bank card off him with a quick peck and a hand on his chest. you’d approached him again as he drank his coffee in the kitchen “finished, love?” you nodded before sliding him the card, his fingers intertwining with yours over it instead “what did you get?” “just a bag, it was on sale for $2000.” his hand almost crushed yours, he nearly splutters drinking his coffee and he stiffens up so bad, his lips pulled into a pout as his eyebrows immediately furrow “are you kidding?” “i liked it omi.” he blushes at the nickname despite you using it daily, clearing his throat to regain his composure “i told you to run big gifts by me first..” but when you blink up at him, apologising through a pout you hear him sigh before he runs a hand through his curls “you’re a spoiled brat.”

☾ SUNA you lay in bed, cheek pressed against his chest as you both scrolled through your phones. you’d borrowed his card for groceries so you still had it on you for the prank “rin, guess what else i bought when i went for groceries??” his gaze flicked to you momentarily before he locked his phone, placing it against his chest “what?” you turned your phone towards him, showing him the $2000 coat on the screen as he blinked at you, face remaining deadpan “and how did you afford that?” “with your ca—“ you don’t even get your whole answer out before he’s snatched your phone from your hand, getting up from the bed as he taps away on the screen “damn brat, you better cancel it.. $2000 on a coat you don’t even need, you’ve got me to keep you warm.” pouts when you tell him you’re joking and mf tells you to have fun being cold lmao.