Mmmmmhm Beach Sex With The Hq Boys 😣 I Would Like To See It

Set My Heart Ablaze

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Creepy Matsukawa, Obsessive Behavior, Public Train Sex

Prompt: Chikan/Trains/Public Sex

Summary: Neither of you can deny the mutual spark of interest between the two of you, but Matsukawa takes the matter of turning that spark into a fire into his own hands. Only time will tell if that fire will provide you warmth and comfort or burn you alive.

A/N: This is my submission for the HQHQ NSFW Collab! Masterlist can be found here. Be sure to check everyone’s content once the masterlist goes live tomorrow night~

The train doors open and Matsukawa briefly glances up, smiling to himself as you step onboard, looking left and right for an open spot despite how you always end up in the same corner of the moving vehicle. He doesn’t know anything about you, not even your name. Yet he finds himself drawn to the normalcy you bring, the comfort of knowing you’re a clockwork fixture of his everyday life.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Matsukawa is just a man at the end of the day and he doesn’t deny that he took note of you long before you became so ingrained in his life. But it had been no more than a man observing an attractive woman and he doesn’t give you another passing thought as he returns to gazing out the train windows.

But working with death on a daily basis makes you look at life differently.

He prides himself on being a practical and level-headed man and despite the heavy nature of his profession, he never thought he’d get too bogged down by the environment, by the grimness of his business. Sure, maybe someone like Oikawa would freak out within hours, if not minutes, of being in a funeral home surrounded by corpses and coffins. But he’s not Oikawa (thank God for that). It’s just a job to help keep a roof over his head and food on the table.

But the longer he’s surrounded by caskets, the more grieving and sobbing families and friends he has to comfort yet professionally guide through catalogs and brochures and price tags, he can slowly but surely feel the weight of his daily work resting heavy on his shoulders, digging deeper into him with every corpse and tragic story he reluctantly becomes privy to. Matsukawa finds a new appreciation for life, for every tiny and minute detail, and suddenly you aren’t just another stranger who happens to share his train route.

You’re a reminder that he’s still alive, that despite the curveballs life throws at some, he’s still blessed to enjoy the routine and monotony of it. Life looks different, clearer, as he begins to really pay attention, appreciating every moment he has.

Maybe he’s paying too much attention. He doesn’t know when he begins to focus so intently on you, shocking himself with the realization that he’s observed you so closely when he nonchalantly notices that you’re using a different tote bag than your usual one. When did Matsukawa Issei become someone who notices the details of a woman’s outfit and accessories?

He knows it’s not right, knows even Hanamaki would crinkle his nose in distaste if he found out Matsukawa was creepily studying a random unknown female on a daily basis. But he can’t help himself, his realization only seeming to make him unconsciously focus on you even more. He notices what hand you use to hold your phone. He memorizes every expression you make as your mind drifts off, lulled by the machinery of the train.

But looking from afar only satisfies him for so long and he finds himself creeping closer to you, adjusting where he sits to be closer to your preferred corner of the train. He always tells himself just a little closer, but it’s never enough. And although he’s now standing right beside you, close enough to see every eyelash, every pore of your skin, it’s still not enough. He needs to hear your voice, feel your body against his, know everything about you inside and out.

He understands the irony of the situation he’s found himself in, reminiscing on how Hanamaki and him had gagged at how disgusting men could be as they watched older businessmen grope and grab at poor unwilling female passengers on their way to and from school. He knows how wrong it is, how like an uninspired porno this is, but when the train conveniently rattles, he jostles his body into yours, “accidentally” bumping into you.

Acting isn’t Matsukawa’s forte, but he thinks he damn well deserves an award for the performance he’s putting on as he profusely apologizes to you, hiding the groan of satisfaction he feels from the brief contact he’d had with you, from the way your attention is solely focused on him, from the way your voice seeps into his ears like the loveliest melody he’s ever heard. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, meaningless small and polite talk leaving his lips as his mind focuses on what’s more important, mentally recording every syllable and movement you make as you continue conversing with him. But whatever words are spilling out of him seem to be working and something hungry and possessive stirs in him when your face lights up as you board the train the next day, making a beeline towards where he stands as you cheerfully greet him.

Maybe it’s foolish of you to so easily trust and warm up to a complete stranger. But he’s tall, attractive, and interesting, which is more than you can say for most of the men you’ve met and your friends and family are always telling you to put yourself out there more. Is there really much of a difference between finding a random stranger on the countless dating apps you’ve installed versus connecting with one in person? You’d even argue that there’s something whimsically romantic about how the two of you met, even though you don’t know for sure if this is really going to lead to anything. But at the very least, your daily commute becomes more exciting.

You’re everything and more compared to what Matsukawa had imagined and if he thought he was infatuated with you before, he’s completely and utterly obsessed with you now. You’re all he can think of, all he can see in his mind’s eye, even hours after you’ve parted ways on your morning commute, even as he lays in bed in the middle of the night. And as his hand slips underneath the hem of his boxers, wrapping around his aching cock to his imaginations of what you’d look like writhing underneath him, how you’d sound moaning his name, he knows he needs to have you.

After all, as pretty as a meal can be, it’s ultimate purpose is to be devoured.

You giggle when the train shakes and you feel a long toned body shift into yours, squishing you against the wall you’re leaning against, sighing in bliss at how right, how good it feels to be in Matsukawa’s embrace even if it is just for a fleeting moment, a little accident all too common on jam packed trains. But your face heats when you continue feeling his warmth, when his body seems to press even further into you until you can feel the expanse of his body against yours, not even an inch of space left between you.

“Matsukawa-”

Your words are caught off by a gasp as Matsukawa buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, lips and tongue mouthing and licking the sensitive skin there. You’re confused, scared, and aroused, hands reaching up to clutch at the lapels of Matsukawa’s suit, unsure whether to hold him tight to you or push him away. And your humiliation only increases when a nearby elderly couple scowls at the two of you in disdain, clearly unamused by the scandalous gestures of what they believe to be a young couple in love.

Yet you can’t help how your heart beats faster, wondering if this is proof of Matsukawa’s attraction to you, wondering if your hidden feelings for him are returned. But this isn’t the time or place for that conversation and you fervently whisper in his ear, begging him to stop, telling him people are watching.

“Is that the only reason you want me to stop? Because people are watching?”

You grow flustered at the implied meaning of his words, shame filling you at how much you’re enjoying this, hating how your neck arches for more attention as he straightens up once more, his body hiding yours from view as he stands in front of you, still pinning you to the wall.

“Better be as still and quiet as you can, sweetheart.”

You don’t have time to register his words before your mouth opens in a pathetic whine as a calloused hand trails under the hem of your shirt, sliding across the stretch of your stomach, mapping your torso before finally shoving your bra above the swell of your breasts, kneading one of your mounds, tweaking and swirling around your hardening nipple. It feels so good and you almost succumb right then and there, lost in the predatory lustful gaze he pins you with.

But when the train makes its next stop, the conductor’s voice jars you from your trance and you clutch at Matsukawa’s forearm, silently pleading for him to stop with desperate eyes despite the way you quietly mewl when he just quirks an eyebrow and pinches your nipple in retaliation.

“We can’t- We shouldn’t-”

Your hand trembles, jaw going slack when he slides one thigh between your legs, digging his hard muscles into that already dripping hole only protected by the fabric of your pants.

“You’re not very convincing. How about we play a game? If you can tell me you don’t want this without moaning like a bitch in heat, I’ll stop.”

There’s no room for disagreement as he abruptly begins grinding his thigh into your aching cunt, flexing and relaxing his muscle in a pattern and rhythm you can’t keep up with. It takes every last bit of will power in you to not wantonly ride his leg and hump against him like the lewd slut he had just accused you of being.

“I don’t want-”

You cry out in agonized pleasure as his fingers still hovering near your breasts begin to roll your nipples between calloused tips, his thigh never losing its momentum. And under the dual points of attack, your resistance crumbles. Matsukawa’s eyes widen in awe as you bounce and roll your hips against his leg, hiding your face in his chest as you try to muffle the lewd sounds slipping past your lips in the fabric of his jacket.

You’re gorgeous like this, a needy, lustful mess. But as much as he loves to see you suffer so beautifully, there’s only so much time before your stop and he decides to have mercy on you, to reward you for being so honest, so good for him. Your face snaps up to stare at him with pupils blown wide as his hand reaches underneath the waistband of your pants and panties. He groans when his fingers are instantly soaked in your arousal, your panties sticky with your fluids and his digits slip inside of your tight wet heat with no resistance at all.

He wants nothing more than to push the pesky fabric out of the way and lay you bare for his viewing pleasure, to have easy access to thrust in and out of you. But he’ll save that for another day. Instead his fingers slip out of you, tips circling your swollen clit, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves as you resume humping his leg, body trembling, drool beginning to trickle from your lips as you frantically chase your end. And as the train stops once more, passengers trickling in and out, you silently scream, body convulsing as he brings you over the edge, pleasure washing over you and leaving you exhausted as you shiver and slump in his arms that are quick to embrace you and hold you steady as the train begins to move again.

You submissively let his fingers coated in your essence enter your mouth, obediently sucking and licking him clean, finding strange comfort in the action as you remain rested against him. But you keen in confusion, cheeks still hollowed as you mindlessly continue sucking while he guides one of your hands to the bulge in his pants.

But although Matsukawa is a man of few words, his desire is clear despite the silence and your face heats in embarrassment as he unbuttons his trousers, bringing your hand to the waistband of his boxers, dark eyes expectantly staring down at you. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Not when you can literally hear the other passengers surrounding the two of you, only Matsukawa’s tall frame hiding your illicit activity. But your body has a mind of its own and you greedily slip under the fabric barrier, moaning around his fingers at how large, hot, and heavy he is in your hands.

You hate how badly you want to see it, to feel it inside you, splitting you apart. Your pussy clenches, leaking in interest once again despite having just found blissful release mere minutes ago as your hands curiously trail up and down the shaft, trying to memorize how every bit of it feels against your skin, trying to visualize what it looks like. But you whimper as Matsukawa finally pulls his fingers free from your mouth, squeezing your jaw and giving you a warning look.

“Don’t tease me, doll.”

Your fingers wrap around the length and it’s your turn to stare up at Matsukawa with eyes full of hunger and awe as you watch his Adam’s apple swallow, as you feel a pleased groan reverberate in his chest with every stroke of your hand. Up and down. Up and down. Your hands are slick with pre-cum and you know it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear the lewd wet sounds of his sticky essence coating his shaft with every movement of your palm against the velvety skin. You’re so mesmerized, so lost in the experience that you startle when something hot and thick spurts onto your hand, mixing with his pre-cum, making an even bigger mess of his boxers and you.

You stare stunned at the hand you pull out from between his legs, gazing at the white and transparent fluids that coat your flesh. But before you can even think about wiping it off or scavenging around for a spare napkin or paper in your bag, a large hand grabs your wrist and brings your stained fingers to your mouth. You try to resist him, the spell he had you under broken now that the haze of lust isn’t blinding you. But his grip tightens until you wince and finally relent, stomach churning in disgust and shame as you tentatively lick at the bitter liquid.

He doesn’t release you, not until every last drop is coating the inside of your mouth, his taste heavy in your mouth, seemingly in every crevice of your orifice, your hand completely clean and void of your sinful interaction.

You want to hate him. You want to wipe the smug satisfied look clean off his face. But as you readjust your disheveled clothing, you’re reminded of your own body’s betrayal, your own carnal desire and pleasure, by the uncomfortable mess in between your legs. And all you can do is silently stand there and pretend that nothing has happened as Matsukawa nonchalantly tucks himself in and checks his phone.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as you wait for him to acknowledge what has just happened, only to be disappointed as he doesn’t even spare you another glance, too observed in the glowing screen in his hand. You wonder if this was just a one time thing, if he had been stringing you along all this time for one quick public tryst. And you hate the way that thought makes your chest hurt, hate how much you dislike the idea of never seeing him again, never talking to him again, never feeling and tasting him again.

But as the train pulls into his stop, your eyes widen when his face hovers by your ear, lips grazing your lobe as his voice melts into your soul.

“Wear a dress or skirt tomorrow. No panties or bra.”

He laughs as surprise turns into an endearing scowl that barely hides the apparent relief in your eyes and he just casually waves farewell as you send him on his way with a tirade of angry words about his fucking audacity. But it’s all empty heat and he chuckles at the self-conscious embarrassment written all over your face when he sees you the next morning, a pretty dress fluttering around your knees.

There’s no preamble, no pretense of what’s about to happen and he smirks in appreciation at the unobstructed feeling of skin against skin as he slips his hand under your skirt, not an inch of fabric covering the treasure at the apex of your thighs.

early morning with sakura !

tags. fluff. sakura x gender neutral!reader

a/n. had a thought about sleepy sakura

as you were getting yourself ready for school, you couldn't help but gaze at your boyfriend who's sleeping comfortably on your bed. he looks so peaceful and soft wrapped in your blanket, opposite of what he is when he's awake.

you were going to stand up when you hear him stir awake, he looks at you with sleepy eyes.

“where are you going?” sakura asked, sounding like a whisper.

“to school, i have early morning duties.”

sakura grumbled then pulls you onto the bed with him,

“hey, let g-”

“please don't go yet,” sakura murmured, voice hoarse due to sleep, while pulling you closer to him. you smiled, thinking about how adorable he is in the morning.

you softly sighed, “ fine, but just a few minutes, 'kay?” wrapping your arms around him and kissing his forehead, he then wraps his arms around your torso and his legs around yours and hummed.

you might be late for school but at least you got to see how cute your boyfriend is. <3

forced quiet sex is such a turn on. covering your little mouth, telling you to shut the fuck up while your muffled whines escape through my fingers. only fucking harder into you out of anger for not being quiet

Kiss 'N Run —꒱

You run away after you kiss them

Rin - the stoic expression doesn’t change as he chases after you…terrifying as fuck if you ask me. Grabs you by the bicep and slams his chest into your back—keeping you there with his arms tightly wrapped around you. “Why’d you run?” there is a hint of sadness in his tone but you couldn’t help the shiver that ran up your spine and stopped at your nape. He presses soft kisses from your neck to your shoulder.

Sae - “Oh…” stares at your back, dumbfounded, and not knowing what the hell just happened. Doesn’t chase or ask why you ran, he goes on with his day like nothing happened (dw he’ll make sure you are kissed good when you’re alone with him.)

Oliver - Runs after you after yelling, “no running in the halls.” Fucking hypocrite. The widest grin on his lips when he catches you (kicks you to the floor*) He cages you under him and chuckles bc he finds you too fucking cute. Kills you with his kisses and hickeys.

Shidou - how are you gonna try running when his hand is already on your neck and squeezing so tightly? Do you wanna die or something? If you somehow manage to run, he thinks you’re so fucking hilarious…you better start praying for your ass to be saved later bc he’s not gonna let you off easily.

Barou - as soon as you turn on your heel, his big hand is on your hair and he is pulling you back to him to smash your lips on his for a kiss so deep, you think your knees melted and you’re unable to stand anymore. “No running from the king,” he says before pinning you against the wall.

All are aged up.

© kenruu

kita senpai just the thought of it and im drooling

KITA SENPAI !!!!

"kita senpai always takes good care of me!", you tell your parents at the dinner table, your brother staring at you with suspicious eyes as you talk about his best friend and your new life as a college student. you know he'd never badmouth shinsuke or even dare to think bad of him – why would he?

your kita senpai always treats you and everyone around him with great respect and care; he just wants everyone to feel safe and comfortable since he knows how difficult life as a freshman can be so he tries his best to be as much of a help for you as possible.

he always helps you with your notes, carrying your groceries to your dorm, picking you up and dropping you off at friends' houses, makes sure you're always safe and sound because even though he cares about everyone in his life, you're his favorite kouhai and what kind of senpai would he be if he didn't take extra good care of you?

and it's always your kita senpai who buries his tongue inside of your sopping wet cunt every single morning before sending you off to your lectures because he knows how nervous and anxious you get so early into the day.

and it's that precious senior of yours who shoves your face into the backseat of his car as he spanks your little cunt for a good ten minutes to make sure you cum all over his cock as soon as he slowly pushes himself all the way inside of you.

and of course it's kita senpai who becomes the daddy you beg for whenever you've been trying to finger yourself but haven't managed to cum because nothing feels as good as his touch. calling him with soft little sobs and cries because of how badly you need him to take care of you because he's your precious kita senpai after all- what kind of senior would he be if he just left you hanging like that?

haikyuu boys as tweets

ft. oikawa tooru, lev haiba, tsukishima kei, iwaizumi hajime, bokuto koutaro, miya atsumu, kageyama tobio, tendou satori, & asahi azumane

masterlist | navigation | part two

why did i do this? who knows 😎👍💗 enjoy some of my favorite tweets

the answer is still you.

genre. mostly fluff, some angst characters. osamu x reader, atsumu synopsis. the story as seen through the eyes of the man who loves you, who always has from the start, and always will ‘til the end. word count. 5.3k

part one (be my mistake) || part three (learning to love)

author notes. thanks all of you for the support in part one!! so i did up a part two hehe i hope you guys like this too <3 i’ll release the last part over the weekend where we finally have atsumu’s view of everything!! side notes. once again tysm @animatedarchives for beta-reading my indecisive ass hehe love you twinnie!! and @aomineavenue my sassy thot i added you in this part bc you hated tsumu so much in part one 😹 i love you bby hope you like this!!

GENERAL TAGLIST. @animatedarchives @aomineavenue @shoyomeow @cherrycolaxo @hidden-otaku-stuff @lonelyheartxn

STORY TAGLIST. @luckypartyranchmug @astralvante @saturnfarie @fortunatelylazystranger @kozukth @tiredandkindaoverworked @runs-with-sciss0rs @fallenangelluna515 @justxanotherxshipper @xxitsaeonxx @starsinthepavement @kyotorchidea @shinhiromi @muiichiroo @sassmeen @strawhatshepard @mint-mai @chocolaterumble @itachiyam @ryaaaax @antigermgals-stuff @whiteliesofmine @fandomreposts

Osamu Miya was always used to being in his brother’s shadow, as far as it came to volleyball.

An inferiority complex borne of the fact that Atsumu was always considered the better one, because after all, who is he to compete with the ‘top setter in Japan’? He’d learnt to be okay with it, to not let it bother him as much. Until he got to know you — you, who was writing up a piece for the school paper about the boys’ volleyball team. You, who had stars in your eyes whenever you saw Atsumu in action. You, who he couldn’t help but notice didn’t get the same reaction when it was Osamu who touched the ball. But he’s always known you were an inherently kind soul, right from the first moment you made sure to compliment them both, even though you were clearly more interested in Atsumu.

Everyone always was.

And he didn’t know why, maybe it was because of the warmth — the good energy — that you radiated, or maybe Atsumu just found you pleasing to the eyes (Osamu knows he himself sure thinks so), but that spurred Atsumu to make friends with you. It helped that you were very welcoming to Osamu too, because that’s how he managed to get close to you; sometimes hang out with you and just you alone.

He remembers the first time the two of you hung out, and each and every time after that. He remembers those local coffee shops that stole endless hours of conversation, when Osamu got the rare glimpses of the mind that he learned to grow fond of. He remembers the way you bite your lip when you concentrate enough, the way you smile when you blush, the way you tap your fingers one at a time against the tabletop when you get slightly impatient, even the way you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you get nervous.

Osamu realised then, that he viewed you differently than he viewed others. He didn’t usually waste time observing people’s habits off the court, but how was it that he was able to memorise all of yours right off the bat? It felt so effortless, and he realised it’s too late to stop — because he was already falling.

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