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Kuroo

Fluffy socks

Hopefully I did this right LMFAO

You did dw 😗

“Is that my sock?”

“…. No?”

It’s one of your favourite pairs. Pink, fluffy, perfect for winter, covered in tiny white hearts. Its twin is missing, the other clutched in your husbands large hand. And peeking out of the sock is a tiny, black, fluffy head, complete with tiny ears and a tiny pink nose.

Your husband put your kitten in your sock.

She wears an expression like his, a blank stare, and then she squeaks, blinking her pretty amber eyes at you.

“Care to explain why you put her in my sock?”

He sighs. “I may have seen a video online. But look,” he says, holding up the cute, fuzzy bundle in his palm with a grin. The bundle yawns, her little teeth on display as she blinks sleepily, clearly warm and comfortable. “She likes it.”

theyre heading out!

u kiss isagi in the parking lot and now yall have to stay in the car for 20 mins till his dick goes down

tagging: @nhixxx-s @smolmo + anyone else who wants to

i wanted to start a lil pic crew tag! here’s da link

i’m gonna tag!!! @j0succ + @plums-princess + @bizarrenina + @moonbeamwritings + @jostepherjoestar but anyone else can join!

osamu + “we’re fake dating! why did you tell them we were engaged?!” for @amarinthe thanks for requesting this! it's probably one of my favourite prompts

the moment you open your front door, you kind of regret it.

because while your totally hot neighbour is standing in your doorway in his dark jeans and fitted black t-shirt glory, you’re rocking shorts and an unreasonably large sweatshirt.

“osamu,” you blink, tugging the hem of your shirt down a little. “hey.”

“hey,” he replies with a smile that makes your knees weak, holding up a takeout bag. “i brought some onigiri home. wanna share?”

thinking about the instant ramen currently boiling on your stovetop, you couldn’t possibly refuse his offer (especially if it’s from miya osamu, whose very successful restaurant is quite literally across the street).

so you open your door wider, letting him step inside and slip his shoes off while you move into the kitchen, placing two plates on the counter.

“so, how was your day?” he asks, unpacking the setting two onigiri on each plate. “anything interesting happen?”

you slide into the stool next to him, swinging your legs lightly as you munch on happily on the food. “not particularly, you?”

“actually, yeah,” he starts, taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair (you think it’s unfair, how good it still looks, even after spending all day smushed under a baseball cap). “my ma called today.”

“your ma?” you hum through a mouthful of salmon and rice. “what’d she say?”

he picks disinterestedly at the seaweed on his onigiri. “she, uh, asked that i visit home for dinner tomorrow night.”

“that’s sounds fun,” you start, pausing when he visibly grimaces. “unless it’s...not?”

“my brother’s bringin’ his girl again,” he shrugs. “and i know that means ma’s gonna be on my ass about why i’m not datin’.”

“yeah, i’ve had that conversation with my parents before,” you shudder, patting his shoulder in understanding. “the future, grandchildren, the passive-aggressive judgement from siblings. you should just call and say you’re sick.”

“can’t,” he sighs heavily. “i already cancelled twice. she may disown me if i skip a third time, or worse, show up at my place.”

it’d probably be funny, you think, seeing mama and brother miya across the hall, bugging osamu. “then maybe you should bring someone,” you suggest off-handedly. “just to keep them off your back a little. when was the last time you went on a date?”

when he doesn’t answer, your happy chewing slows, and you glance over at him. “jeez, that long ago? i thought you had more game than that, miya.”

a slow grin spread across his face when he meets your gaze. “last time i went out with someone was...four months ago, actually.”

“four months ago? that was around when we—” your eyes widen slightly, heat spreading to your cheeks. “oh. that...was not a date. that was a slightly intoxicated but very satisfying sexual exchange between friends.”

osamu chuckles, ducking his head a little and making those eyes at you (the ones that’d lured you into fucking him on your living room floor at two in the morning). “maybe don’t bring that up when ya meet my mom.”

“excuse me?” you laugh. “you cannot bring me home to meet your family.”

“why not?” he questions, looking genuinely confused. “you’re the one who suggested it. it’s just for one night anyway.”

“i just can’t!” you insist, looking at him incredulously. “i’d be nervous even if we were dating. what if they ask questions about--”

“i’ll give you free onigiri for a month.”

_____

“so, how did the two of you meet?” osamu’s mother asks as she pours you a generous glass of wine.

you freeze, blinking a few times. when you open your mouth, nothing comes out.

(it’s funny how, on the hour-long drive to hyogo, the two of you hadn’t discussed any basic information about your relationship. instead, you’d spent your time debating the best taylor swift album and making fun of the other tenants in your building.)

you almost flinch when someone places a hand on the small of your back, but relax when osamu’s faint cologne meets your senses. “actually it was the day after she moved in next door,” he says. “i brought some onigiri over because she’d asked me that morning where the closest grocery store was so i figured…”

you smile fondly, recalling the day you’d run into him at the mailboxes, and he’d shown up a few hours later with food. he’d claimed they were just leftovers even though it was mid-afternoon.

“i can’t believe you remember that,” you murmur.

he hums quietly, gaze flicking over your face briefly. “i guess it’s just when i knew.”

you’re sure that your heart stutters in your chest. surely he’d stolen that from some cheesy romance flick?

“how long have you two been together?” his mother follows up with, glancing between the two of you expectantly, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“eight months,” you say.

“almost a year,” osamu answers at the same time.

across from you, atsumu hides a smile behind his glass of water.

“i mean, who’s counting?” you laugh, quick to recover, reaching over to your ‘boyfriend’ blindly, meaning to pat his shoulder but instead catching him on the cheek. “time flies when you’re in love.”

you turn to stare at osamu when you feel him clasp your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingers, lips curling against them.

your stomach flutters a little at the gesture.

“‘tsumu,” he continues, redirecting the conversation. he rests your clasped hands on the table, thumb brushing the back of yours gently. “i thought you were bringing your girlfriend.”

“oh, she’s at her place doin’ some packing,” he answers easily. “she’s movin’ in next week.”

“that’s great news!” their mother beams, osamu’s hand tightening around yours as he blurts,

“yeah, well, we’re engaged!”

this time, you choke on your bite of chicken, almost hacking up a lung as you whip your head towards your neighbour/friend/fake boyfriend turned fake fiancé.

he shoots you a pleading gaze as he rubs firm circles on your back, and when you finally dislodge that traitorous piece of meat, you draw a slow breath and sigh. “babe, i thought we were going to wait until you made it official.” you lift your left hand, pointing at your empty ring finger before turning back to his mother and brother. “do you mind if we step away for a second?”

they both wave you off, and you snatch osamu’s wrist, dragging him out the back door, making sure it’s shut tight before you whisper-shout,

“we are fake dating! why would you tell them that we were engaged?”

he rubs his hands down his face, groaning. “i’m sorry, i panicked! it’s just that when atsumu mentioned moving in i got weirdly competitive because we’re twins—”

“so naturally you told your mother we were getting married? what’s next, atsumu mentions a joint bank account and you tell them that i’m pregnant?”

osamu lowers his hands to peek at you. “can i actually do that?”

“no! this is so not worth the free onigiri!” you growl, smacking him on the shoulder a few times, osamu yelling in protest.

(inside, atsumu and their mother peek out the kitchen window to watch the both of you, the latter murmuring, ‘definitely engaged.’)

_____

“you cannot tell that story in your toast,” you laugh, three years later with a very real engagement ring on your finger.

“why not?” osamu whines, completely invading your side of the bed to wrap his arms around you. “it’s how we got together, isn’t it?”

“by lying to your family.”

“soon to be your family,” he reminds you happily. “and i didn’t have to lie and tell them you were pregnant.”

the hunt - frat boy!atsumu/f!reader (haikyuu!) tags: not NSFW but not NOT NSFW if that makes sense, inspired by this art by @/hlxtn, mentions of alcohol, typical frat party debauchery, college!au, greek system!au, reader is in a sorority, atsumu has a lip piercing and is a whore, making out, heavy petting, graphic depictions of graphic depictions, gratuitous headboard knocking, this atsumu makes me want to scream, word count 3k

The brief is simple: a scavenger hunt of sorts. 

It’s just a bit of friendly competition between you and your fellow sorority sisters, not unusual for the chapter president and the upper ranking sisters to orchestrate. At 8:00PM on the dot, everyone received a joint text message with a list of items to retrieve or tasks to complete to earn points—for tasks without a physical trophy, a simple photo as proof would do the trick—and once the clock strikes midnight, the participants who've managed to scavenge the most points would be the winners, and those with the lowest points would face a forfeit.

And finally, throughout the night there would be bonus points come up for grabs in the form of special challenges.

Like the one currently lighting up the screen of your phone. 

(11:00PM) INZ hookup - 100 points for a pledge, 500 points for pres, 250 points for everyone else. (11:00PM) Current ranking: 12/25. 1 hour remaining.

“How far are we from the Iota house?” you ask, leaning forward against the restraint of your seatbelt and gripping the headrest of the drivers seat in front of you.

“A couple blocks,” your friend (and fellow sorority sister) behind the wheel says in confusion, “why?”

You and a few of your closest friends had wandered out that night to amass points together. You were all doing pretty well, but according to the rankings that are sent out every half hour, none of you have even broken the top 10. 

And now there's only an hour left.

“Go there next,” you say decisively. 

“Are you nuts?” another sister smushed into the backseat with you squeaks, “hooking up with an Iota is…”

Practically a death sentence. At least socially. You all know it. 

To call the boys of the INZ frat run-through would be a disservice to the word. Their reputation among the other greeks is NOT one to be trifled with. The boys themselves, beyond being philandering, are more than a little rough around the edges. They’re known for starting fights (and finishing them) and save for their chapter president Kita, and a few standouts among the brothers, they’re not generally considered the shining gold standard of Greek Life. The Iotas are the direct cause of more than a few of the sanctions your university has imposed on the Greek system in recent years, even against Kita's best efforts to keep them in line. 

But still, that many points may just be too gleaming of an opportunity for you to pass up. 

There’s a party in full swing when you pull up to the INZ house, because it's a Friday night so of course there is.

“Do you see anyone else here?” you ask your friends as you step into the fray, raising your voice to be heard over the pulsating music rattling through the house. You’re all wearing shirts with your sorority’s greek letters on them, so any fellow sisters should be easy to spot, though you can’t make any out from where you stand near the door.

“No,” one of your friends says, pressing close to your back to avoid being run over by a few passing partygoers chasing after someone in a hoodie with a quart of rum tucked under his arm. “Hey, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Of course it’s not. But the last time you lost one of these little challenges you were stuck vacuuming the entire sorority house for two months, and you weren’t eager to experience it again. 

“How much time is left?” you ask, pulling your cellphone from your pocket. 

11:12 your screen reads.

“Around 45 minutes,” your friend confirms what you know to be true once you see the time on your screen. Your eyes scan the party, landing on a figure on the edge of the crowd in an INZ hoodie with a red solo cup in his hands.

And a terrible, horrible, perfect idea comes to mind. 

You unlock your phone.

'Claiming this task!' you type as you cross the party, leaving your friends behind. 

The President replies immediately to your claim.

(11:15PM) Which Iota? 

You send your answer without a second thought.

The boy in the INZ hoodie doesn’t see you coming as you sidle up beside him, so when you put a hand on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and crane up on your tiptoes to get close to his ear he stiffens slightly in surprise. 

“Hi,” you say into his ear to be heard over the music blaring through the crowded house, your fingers twisting into the material of his sleeve, “you don’t know me, but I really need a favour.”

And that’s how you end up in Atsumu Miya’s bedroom in the Iota Nu Zeta frat house, standing on he opposite side of the room as he sits perched on the edge of his bed.

“Yer tellin’ me ya want me to pretend to fuck ya?” he asks, a brow quirked under the band of his backwards cap. “All fer some… bet?”

“It’s not a bet,” you correct him (not for the first time), “it’s a scavenger hunt.”

“And I’m the thing yer huntin’?” he's teasing you now, and you know it. 

“It doesn’t have to be you,” you huff, your lips pursing, “and if you’re gonna keep wasting my time I can go ask—“

“Now wait a minute,” he interrupts you before you can even dangle the threat before him, “now that I know yer trying to cheat the system, whose t’say I don’t send a text of my own to that pretty little president of yours and tell her what yer schemin’?” 

“You wouldn’t,” you say, your nose crinkling up in irritation. 

Atsumu grins, and the piercing on his bottom lip catches in the light of the lamp that sits on the table between the two twin XL beds in the tiny, untidy room. You assume he shares it with his twin brother, though you really don’t have much to base that assumption other than the fact you know he has one. The room is a bit neater on the side Atsumu is not sitting on, so you infer that Osamu is also the tidier twin between the two of them. 

“Nah, I wouldn’t,” he laughs, “I kinda like seein’ ya play dirty.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You guys always seem so…” Atsumu goes on, waving his hand in the air vaguely. 

“Rule-abiding?” you offer. 

“Stuck up,” he corrects you. 

He’s not necessarily wrong for thinking it, even if it does irk you. Your sisterhood is one of the more reserved greek chapters on campus—elite even, if you dared to say it. Sure, the scavenger hunt you find yourself partaking in that evening might not seem it, but the fact of the matter is that you guys aren’t inherently morally superior to any of the other greek houses - you’re just better at not getting caught. 

Something that seems utterly beyond the Iota brothers. 

Which is exactly why you need it to be him.

“Are you gonna help me or not?” you finally ask, sighing warily. 

“What’s in it for me?” Atsumu counters your appeal. 

“I’ll give you all my precal notes ahead of the midterm next week.”

Atsumu furrows his brow. “We’re in the same precal class?” he asks. 

Your expression flattens. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” you grit out, “which you might know if you didn’t spend every class napping.”

“Wait…”—he purses his lips, eyes scanning over your face—“we have a midterm next week?” 

You feel something throb palpably behind your eyes. 

“Yes,” you manage to get out even though your jaw is clenched firmly shut. "God you're hopeless."

"Yer awfully rude for someone who's tryin' to use me fer my body," Atsumu says, smirking when he sees the way your expression shifts into one of even further annoyance at his taunt. He leans back on his bed, resting his weight on his elbows. “So, what do I have to do here?”

“Just… take your shirt off and take a picture with me in bed with you,” you say, though it physically pains you to say the words. To have to stoop so low.

He quirks a brow mischievously. “Oh, ’s that all?”

“And keep your hands to yourself,” you tack on pointedly.

Atsumu snorts, lifting his hands in innocence.

“You got it, princess.”

Just as Atsumu shifts his weight forward, and his hand reaches behind his neck to grab at the collar of his hoodie, your cellphone jingles. 

You reach for it, and see that it’s a message from the sorority president. You unlock the device to reveal the message.

It’s a picture of a door.

The very door you presently find yourself behind.

Another message pops up in the chat.

(11:29) Recruited a bit of backup! You’ve got a little crowd waiting for proof, just to be safe ;)

And then another.

(11:30) Current ranking: 15/25. 30 minutes remaining.

“Fuck,” you mutter, miserable at the turn of events - and your drop in the rankings.

“What’s wrong?” Atsumu asks. 

“There are people out there…” your voice drops quieter, your eyes flickering over to the door on the other side of the room. “Waiting for… proof.”

The information seems to process slowly in Atsumu’s brain, and his eyes widen as the facts click into place. 

“Ohhh…” he trails off. “They want a real show, huh?” 

“Sorry for dragging you into this,” you sigh, “it was stupid, just forget I-“ 

Atsumu catches your wrist in his hand, tugging you forward before you can step away towards the door in defeat. You peer down at him as you stand between his parted thighs, confused.

“I never said I couldn’t give ‘em one.”

Your face flushes.

“Don’t be stu-“

“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he says, letting his grip on your wrist fall, “we just gotta get a bit more… creative about it ’s all.”

You chew on the corner of your lip. 

You really hate vacuuming. 

“Alright,” you muster your resolve, offering him your hand for a handshake.

“And ya owe me all your notes right up until the final,” Atsumu tacks on, just before he clasps your hand in his. 

You huff, closing the distance between your palms and taking his hand in a shake. You can’t help but notice how much larger his hand is than yours. 

“Fine, whatever.”

Atsumu is… frighteningly good at putting on a show. 

He turns out the lamp on his bedside table so there’s no light peeking out from the crack under the door, he turns on music like he’s trying (and failing) to drown out any possible noise that might make it out, and he rocks his sturdy bed frame into the wall in a steady, unmistakable rhythm. 

“Hey,” he grunts out on a particularly hard knock of the wooden frame against the wall, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Ya gotta make some noise, y’know. Yer gonna ruin my rep.”

“What do you mean?” you whisper back, still standing frozen just beside the bed, more than a little awkwardly. 

“Y’know, moan or whatever,” he hisses back. 

“I can’t do that!” you snap.

“Yeah fuckin’ right,” he mutters, and you have half a mind to smack him. But before you have the chance to, a strong arm circles your waist and pulls you down. 

You squeak in fright. “Atsumu!”

He has you pinned underneath his body before you know it, practically nose to nose with him, his hands returning to their place on the headboard to give it another knock against the wall. 

Your eyes have adjusted to the dimness in the room since he turned out the lamp, and you can make out his features even though it’s dark. He’s smirking, that little silver hoop at the edge of his lip caught between his teeth. 

“There ya go,” he snickers, “just like that.”

“You told me you’d keep your hands to yourself,” you mutter lowly.

“Sacrifices must be made,” he shrugs, and gives the headboard another loud, incriminating knock. 

It’s preposterous the situation you find yourself in, pinned underneath Atsumu god damn Miya of all people. Pretending to fuck him. 

How the hell did you end up here?

“Ow,” you complain quietly when a particularly rough knock makes the back of your head hit the headboard. 

“Shit, sorry,” Atsumu mutters. He slides an arm underneath your back. “Here.”

He grunts, flipping the two of you over so you’re straddling his waist and he’s the one against the headboard in his tiny little bed. His baseball cap falls off in the scuffle, leaving the strands of his blonde hair loose. 

“’S that better?” he asks. 

It’s not actually, because this feels a hell of a lot more compromising than it had a second before. 

“Ya just gotta push against the headboard like this,”—he takes your hands in his, guiding them up over his shoulders to grip the wooden bed frame, pressing them back until it knocks into the wall—“see?”

“Okay,” you murmur, still a little dazed from the sudden role reversal, repeating the motion. 

You go slower than he had as you get the hang of it, distracted by how close his face is to yours. How you can feel his breath against your mouth. 

It smells like spearmint gum and cheap beer. 

You lick your lips. 

“This more the pace you like?” Atsumu asks, smiling crookedly as he remarks on the tempo you’ve set, his hands settling on your waist. 

“Watch your hands,” you snap quietly, and his touch retreats as you stretch back as far as you can from him without losing your grip on the headboard. 

“You’re still bein’ pretty quiet,” Atsumu comments. “You really gonna make me do everything?” 

“What do you-“

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

Atsumu’s moan is so loud that it startles you, and you let go of the headboard to slap your hand over his mouth in surprise. He grunts a little as you pitch forward, your palm muffling the sound. 

“You tryin’ to win this thing or not?” he asks you pointedly once you pull your hand away. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, acutely aware of the fact you can feel the slickness of spit on your palm, “you just… surprised me.”

He hums. 

“I’d say we’ve probably sold it at this point anyway,” he says with a little sigh. “As long as we go back out there lookin’ a bit scruffy, no one’ll know.”

You chew on the inside of your mouth as you mull over his words. 

“What?” he asks, noticing your hesitation.

You swallow, reaching up and touching the side of your neck. 

“You should give me a hickey.”

Atsumu’s eyes go as wide as saucers. 

“Yer jokin’.”

You shake your head. “It’s like… incontrovertible proof right? It’s not like I could give myself one.”

His eyes search your face for any sign of deception. 

“Ya don’t seem like the type who’d let someone mark ya.”

“I’m not,” you say, suppressing a shiver as his pointer finger loops under the neckline of your t-shirt, tugging it gently to the side. “You seem like the type to leave marks, though.”

Atsumu leans forward and chuckles, his breath is warm against your throat.

“Yeah, guess I am.”

Atsumu’s mouth is hot as it descends upon your pulse point, lips closing around the skin.

“Oh,” you gasp, your hands tangling in the blonde’s hair without thinking as he sucks at the sensitive part of your neck. His own hands have settled on your waist, and this time you don’t tell him to remove them.

“Atsumu,” you whimper as his teeth scrape over the skin he’s been suckling against, making you dizzy.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs into your throat, his hands slipping up under the hem of your t-shirt where his fingertips meet skin.

You don’t say anything.

Atsumu flips you over, and this time there’s nothing deceptive about the way the headboard knocks into the wall. 

His hands are still up your shirt, his lips still on your neck, and your legs wrap themselves around his waist as you writhe against his bedsheets. 

“D’ya know why,”—Atsumu interrupts himself to drag his teeth along the edge of your jaw—“I was so shocked we’re in the same class?”

You shake your head minutely, your fingers twisted into the material of his hoodie over his chest. You watch his lips part in a smile, eyes fixed to that little piercing again.

“Because I’ve had a crush on ya since first year,” he murmurs, “and if I’d known ya were there, then I wouldn’t of been nappin’.”

Atsumu kisses you—finally—and you can’t help the sound that slips out of you at the feeling of his lips slotting against yours.

His mouth tastes like spearmint and beer.

His piercing presses gently into your lips as his part against yours, his tongue slipping forward to taste you too.

His hands grab at anything and everything they can reach. 

Somewhere distantly, you feel you’ve played right into his hand. You recognize that you weren’t the only one who had been scheming tonight.

On Atsumu’s floor, your discarded cellphone lights up with yet another missed message. 

(11:45PM) Proof received +250 points

(11:46PM) No idea you had it in you LOL

(12:00AM) Final ranking: 2nd place

You don’t see the texts until much, much later.

Put in the tags please if you answered yes lets have fun with this

For example my childhood dog was named Cher after the singer and yes she had a brother named Sunny

In which Mattsun eats you out on the couch

[10:49pm]

It was getting late, and you knew you should be heading home by now. But currently you were pinned underneath your boyfriend on his couch in his shared apartment. His roommate was out, so the two of you had decided to have a quiet night in and watch some movies.

But of course one thing led to another, because Issei was never known for keeping his hands to himself.

“Sei...” You whine when he gropes a handful of your breast and rocks his hips harder into yours.

He pays you no mind as he keeps kissing your neck, grabbing and reaching and just eating up every part of you in a way that he knows makes your head spin. In front of others he was usually upright and mild with his mischief, but that all went out the window when the two of you were alone.

“Hmm?” He hums against your throat without stopping his movements. If anything the sweet sounds you were making only made him more excited, and you can feel as much when his cock pulses beneath his sweats against your inner thigh.

“M-Makki could—" An involuntary moan cuts you off as you feel his cock press closer to your core. “We should… go to your room.”

You feel Issei’s lips curl against your skin. “He won’t be home for hours baby, just relax.”

And you do, finding yourself sinking farther into the plush cushions of the couch and pulling back to look up at him with blown pupils and puffy lips. “Then please fuck me already.”

You notice a glint in his eye as he hurriedly kisses you again. There’s urgency in his movement now as he begins to ground himself harder against your hips. It earns another moan from you, feeling his cock pressing against your folds.

His hands were already underneath your shirt, but now they were starting to travel down into the sweatpants you were wearing. His sweatpants, the ones that were way too big for you but were so soft and so fuzzy that you always insisted on wearing them whenever you came over. It was almost too easy for him to slip a finger beneath the waist band of your panties and start rubbing small circles around your clit.

“Sei.” You breathe. “Please.”

“You’re so wet.” He whispers in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. “I’ll take care of you baby, just be a good girl for me, yeah?”

You gasp and begin to squirm when his fingers skim past your clit. “Mhmm. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Good.” He kisses your cheek and sits up on his knees to pull both your pants and your panties off before diving in to give your cunt a swipe of his tongue.

You let out a loud gasp and knot your fingers into his curly hair. “Issei!”

This only eggs him on further and you can feel his nose nudging against your clit for a mere moment before his lips find it and start to suck. Your leg kicks out off the couch, sending your bottoms flying to the floor and allowing more room for Issei to work with. His hands grip your thighs to anchor himself as he ventures further, determined to hear you sing his name at least once before he buries his cock inside you.

And sing you do.

With your orgasm so close to erupting you hitch your heel into his ass and push him further into your cunt. “Issei! Issei! Oh my god Issei I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna—"

Your back arches off the couch as you come hard with your nails digging into his scalp.

Issei eagerly laps up all of your juices and eventually glances up at you with the cheesiest smirk on his face.

“Oh my god.” You pant, sinking back into the couch. “Fuck.”

“Mhmm, we’re getting there sweetheart.” He chuckles as he climbs up to give you a salty kiss, littered with the taste of you. “If you’re still up for it of course?”

You roll your eyes and smirk back at him. “Like you even need to ask.”

He grins and kisses you again, pulling his sweatpants off with one hand. “I’m a gentleman at heart, yenno.”

You can’t help but giggle and kiss him again, eager as ever to feel his cock inside you.

Suddenly the sound of the front door opening stops both of you dead in your tracks.

You let out a gasp as Issei’s eyes stare back down at you, wide with terror. “Fuck.”

As fast as you can you reach for the blanket on the back of the couch and do your best to cover you both with it. Issei settles between your legs, his cock pressing into your folds with enough pressure to make you whimper, but you hold it in as the door closes and footsteps make their way into the living room.

Makki’s staring down at his phone as he walks, and only glances up at the two of you for a moment before returning to it. “Hey guys, whatcha watching?”

“Just whatevers on.” Issei speaks as casually as possible while you’re trying to get your heartbeat to settle down.

“Hmm, cool. Night.” Makki tosses a wave over his shoulder and heads down the hall.

After hearing his bedroom door shut you let out a huge sigh of relief. “Maybe he doesn’t know.”

“No, he definitely knows.” Issei sighs into your collarbone. “Your panties are still on the floor.”

@kuroosdarling

more dad fan art w toji and megumi 🤍

uhhh new uquiz hang out with me and I’ll say what I’d tell my friends about you