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darlin' i got your number now - nishinoya yuu/reader
m.list - read on ao3
A/N: I'mma keep it real with you chief it is finals week in my last semester of college and I have a five page paper due saturday I haven't started on but I took the time to bless you with porn instead and advance the noya agenda. you're welcome. my bachelor's degree, at least, will thank me, if no one else will.
Summary: On your day off, you spend some time cleaning and getting caught up in old memories. Your boyfriend gets home from work and helps you make a new one with your old school uniform.
Warnings: SMUT, noya has a senpai kink, he fucks you in your old school uniform, reader is afab and described as having breasts
Word count: 1700+
Four months ago, you moved in with your long-term boyfriend, and you couldn’t be happier. Sure, Noya is… an acquired taste, we’ll say, but he’s bright and sweet and always finds little ways to let you know he loves you. It’s hard to be mad at the mess that now permeates your living space when you wake up in the morning to needy kisses and no room for even a shred of doubt that you are wanted.
That being said, on a day like today—him out at his part-time job, you with no classes or shifts at your own job scheduled—you can’t help but try to fight the mess, just a little bit. An early morning, prodding Noya out the door because no, your landlord won’t accept “I wanted to stay in bed with my beautiful girlfriend” from him as a reason why rent is late, leads to restless looks not just at the piles of clothes scattering the floor, but at the overflowing laundry basket, the disorganized closet, the scattered boxes here and there that you still haven’t gotten around to unpacking. By lunchtime, you’ve made your to-do list and started working down the items on the list—throw in laundry first, tidy up, unpack the shit from your move that still needs to be unpacked so you can get the boxes out of the corner.
Of course, you get distracted. Laundry in the washer and not on the floor means, wait a minute, you can clean the floors now without too much trouble, and long story short, by the time Noya’s shift would be ending, you’re panicking a little because you still haven’t started on the boxes you need to unpack. You fly into the room, grab the first box you find—mementos—and are immediately slapped in the face with nostalgia.
To be fair, this is why you saved unpacking boxes for last.
On the top of the box, in pristine condition, staring back up at you, is your old uniform from when you went to Karasuno.
You’d been a year below Noya, gotten roped into managing the volleyball team. Mostly just gone along with it to have something to do after school, and then gone along with it because hey, their libero was kind of cute and they were overall pretty fun to hang out with. On his last day before he graduated, he’d asked you out, and of course you’d said yes, thrilled to not be losing your beloved senpai to the cruelty of time just yet.
Lost in memories, a little delirious from all the cleaning, your first coherent thought is I wonder if it still fits?
But you don’t get distracted again. You’ve got a lot to get done.
…right?
So anyways, you hear the front door closing and your boyfriend wandering through the apartment just as you’re remarking on the fact that, apparently, judging by the cries of pain the buttons on your chest seem to be making, your boobs have gotten a bit bigger since you last wore this uniform. No matter—you tug on the vest, slide into the blazer as you hear your boyfriend call out to you.
“Did you clean up a little today, baby?”
His voice is getting closer, and you realize, as he opens the bedroom door the rest of the way, that it probably looks a little weird to be standing in the middle of your room, several years out of high school, staring at your reflection in your full-length mirror to appraise your uniform. “Yeah,” you reply, looking at him reflected in the mirror. He’s stood still in the doorway, eyes suddenly wide. “I had the time and it was getting a little cluttered in here. Thought it’d be nice to actually get some of this shit unpacked. How was work?“
His eyes are burning, raking over your body. You guess the skirt is a little too short now—you’ve filled out over the years, and, well, Noya has never really been able to resist you in a short skirt. You can actually see him swallow. “What are you wearing?”
“My old uniform? I found it in one of these boxes and thought I’d see if it still fit me. Answer: not really.”
The next thing you know, you’re being pressed up against the wall, his mouth against yours, and—oh.
He’s hard.
He pulls away just enough to nearly growl against your lips: “Did one of the guys tell you?”
“…no,” you reply, more confused than innocent. “Tell me what?”
“You’re actually just that perfect?” He laughs, sounding delirious. He captures your lips again, needy as his hands come to rest on your hips. “Amazing.”
“Noya, baby, you’re gonna have to give me a little context for what’s got you so revved up,” you tease. “What’s going on in that empty head of yours?”
He kisses you breathless before he’s willing to answer. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about fucking you in this uniform.”
Oh.
You laugh, rest your forehead against his shoulder as your own shake with laughter. “Okay, I’ll bite. How many times?”
“Think every time I saw you in it?” He presses open-mouthed kisses against your exposed neck, urgent as he intersperses little nips here and there. You try not to gasp or wriggle too much at the ministrations—it’s more fun when he thinks he has to work harder to get you as worked up as he is.
Your hand winds into his hair, dropping your head back to let him access you a bit better. “Every time? I was being so innocent, working hard for the volleyball club and looking up to you, and you were thinking about fucking me? You’re such a pervert, senpai.”
The fingers gripping your waist twitch, and then he’s biting you properly with a growl.
“Thought about you calling me that while I did it, too.”
You’re learning so much today, you realize with a swoop in your stomach.
You drag a hand down his chest, find his hard-on with practiced ease. “We can arrange something, I think.”
He hisses at the touch, rolls his hips into your hand. “Fuck.”
Noya grabs your wrist, gentle but unyielding, and pins both against the wall with the one hand. His other slides up, under your vest, searching for the buttons at your chest. He pauses when he finds them—it takes almost no effort to slip his hand in to grope you over your bra. “You didn’t even bother buttoning the top?”
“Doesn’t fit anymore,” you gasp out when he runs a thumb over your nipple. Damn thin t-shirt bras. “It was buttoned, at least.”
“Uh huh.”
He pulls back, releases you just enough to tug the vest off, flinging it somewhere in the room and putting you properly on display for him, buttons undone so he can easily access your tits. He leans down, pulls one out of both bra and half-unbuttoned shirt just so he can tease you with his mouth.
He grows impatient before long—wandering hands snake beneath your skirt, grope your ass hurriedly only to swipe over your panties. Noya groans into your flesh. “You’re so wet already.”
“Well, someone came home and decided to ruin me—“
“Oh, I’ll ruin you, alright,” he declares. In the next moment—he was always too fast—he’s on his knees, pressing his nose against your clothed sex and inhaling.
See, that’s another thing you like about him.
He’s such a pervert.
He takes the chance to mark up your thighs, lathes his tongue over your wet panties instead of taking the time to at least pull them aside.
“You’re so perfect,” he breathes. “So fucking gorgeous. Look at this. Look at you.” This time, he pulls your panties to the side to plant his mouth on your pussy and suck harshly at your clit. You whine, tug at his hair.
“N-Noya—“
“You already know what to call me,” he chides. His head is buried under your skirt—two fingers dip into your sex and begin to frantically pump.
“Fuck—senpai—“
“God, I can’t take it. I’m sorry, you’re too perfect, I—“
And there’s the athleticism rearing its head, because he’s got you underneath him and on the floor in two seconds flat, grinding his cock against you in desperation. “You’re going to have to wear this again for me, beautiful. Need you to. I’ll literally die if you don’t.”
Whatever response you were going to give catches in your throat—it takes him no time at all to get his dick out, pull your panties aside, and slide into you in one sharp thrust.
“You’re so good. Such a sweet little kouhai. Used to feel so bad about it—other girls were pretty, but I couldn’t stop thinking about pulling you into the equipment storage and lifting that short little skirt—“ he grunts as he sets his pace.
You whine. Before long, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him any way you can just to stay in your body with the way he’s fucking you breathless.
“—think every time you called me “senpai” it took me at least fifteen minutes to recover—“
“Senpai,” you respond, more a moan than an attempt to say anything coherent, and his hips stutter.
“Yeah, like that,” he laughs. “Exactly like that.”
“Fuck—please, senpai, harder—need you—“
He growls again, arms shaking as he drills into you. It’s all you can do to keep holding on, keep whimpering into his ear while he has his way with you. When he cums, it’s harder than you’ve seen him cum in a long time, pulling out of you just to paint hot ropes across your now fully-askew uniform. He reaches between you, rubs at your clit frantically until you see stars.
When you’re both satisfied, he collapses face-first into your tits, winds his arms around your waist. Mumbles something you cannot begin to comprehend with your head still spinning.
“Love you, senpai,” you mumble back.
The arms around your waist tighten. He lifts his head just enough to be comprehensible. “If you’re going to keep calling me that, I’m going to have to demand a round two.”
“Next time, I’ll try to find your old jersey.”
That comment earns you a few more rounds and the decisive undoing of all the cleaning you’d gotten done today.
Worth it.
Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory
If you'd like to be tagged, let me know via any contact method and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in (eg. character-specific, all works, all smut works, etc.). If your url appears on this list but is not underlined/you didn't get a notification, please ensure your blog is set to appear in search results in your blog settings! If you've got it set not to for some particular reason, consider subscribing on my ao3 for an update notification, as I always crosspost on ao3 simultaneously. After three unsuccessful tagging attempts, you will be removed from the taglist.
As always, thank you for reading!
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darlin' i got your number now - nishinoya yuu/reader
m.list - read on ao3
A/N: I'mma keep it real with you chief it is finals week in my last semester of college and I have a five page paper due saturday I haven't started on but I took the time to bless you with porn instead and advance the noya agenda. you're welcome. my bachelor's degree, at least, will thank me, if no one else will.
Summary: On your day off, you spend some time cleaning and getting caught up in old memories. Your boyfriend gets home from work and helps you make a new one with your old school uniform.
Warnings: SMUT, noya has a senpai kink, he fucks you in your old school uniform, reader is afab and described as having breasts
Word count: 1700+
Four months ago, you moved in with your long-term boyfriend, and you couldn’t be happier. Sure, Noya is… an acquired taste, we’ll say, but he’s bright and sweet and always finds little ways to let you know he loves you. It’s hard to be mad at the mess that now permeates your living space when you wake up in the morning to needy kisses and no room for even a shred of doubt that you are wanted.
That being said, on a day like today—him out at his part-time job, you with no classes or shifts at your own job scheduled—you can’t help but try to fight the mess, just a little bit. An early morning, prodding Noya out the door because no, your landlord won’t accept “I wanted to stay in bed with my beautiful girlfriend” from him as a reason why rent is late, leads to restless looks not just at the piles of clothes scattering the floor, but at the overflowing laundry basket, the disorganized closet, the scattered boxes here and there that you still haven’t gotten around to unpacking. By lunchtime, you’ve made your to-do list and started working down the items on the list—throw in laundry first, tidy up, unpack the shit from your move that still needs to be unpacked so you can get the boxes out of the corner.
Of course, you get distracted. Laundry in the washer and not on the floor means, wait a minute, you can clean the floors now without too much trouble, and long story short, by the time Noya’s shift would be ending, you’re panicking a little because you still haven’t started on the boxes you need to unpack. You fly into the room, grab the first box you find—mementos—and are immediately slapped in the face with nostalgia.
To be fair, this is why you saved unpacking boxes for last.
On the top of the box, in pristine condition, staring back up at you, is your old uniform from when you went to Karasuno.
You’d been a year below Noya, gotten roped into managing the volleyball team. Mostly just gone along with it to have something to do after school, and then gone along with it because hey, their libero was kind of cute and they were overall pretty fun to hang out with. On his last day before he graduated, he’d asked you out, and of course you’d said yes, thrilled to not be losing your beloved senpai to the cruelty of time just yet.
Lost in memories, a little delirious from all the cleaning, your first coherent thought is I wonder if it still fits?
But you don’t get distracted again. You’ve got a lot to get done.
…right?
So anyways, you hear the front door closing and your boyfriend wandering through the apartment just as you’re remarking on the fact that, apparently, judging by the cries of pain the buttons on your chest seem to be making, your boobs have gotten a bit bigger since you last wore this uniform. No matter—you tug on the vest, slide into the blazer as you hear your boyfriend call out to you.
“Did you clean up a little today, baby?”
His voice is getting closer, and you realize, as he opens the bedroom door the rest of the way, that it probably looks a little weird to be standing in the middle of your room, several years out of high school, staring at your reflection in your full-length mirror to appraise your uniform. “Yeah,” you reply, looking at him reflected in the mirror. He’s stood still in the doorway, eyes suddenly wide. “I had the time and it was getting a little cluttered in here. Thought it’d be nice to actually get some of this shit unpacked. How was work?“
His eyes are burning, raking over your body. You guess the skirt is a little too short now—you’ve filled out over the years, and, well, Noya has never really been able to resist you in a short skirt. You can actually see him swallow. “What are you wearing?”
“My old uniform? I found it in one of these boxes and thought I’d see if it still fit me. Answer: not really.”
The next thing you know, you’re being pressed up against the wall, his mouth against yours, and—oh.
He’s hard.
He pulls away just enough to nearly growl against your lips: “Did one of the guys tell you?”
“…no,” you reply, more confused than innocent. “Tell me what?”
“You’re actually just that perfect?” He laughs, sounding delirious. He captures your lips again, needy as his hands come to rest on your hips. “Amazing.”
“Noya, baby, you’re gonna have to give me a little context for what’s got you so revved up,” you tease. “What’s going on in that empty head of yours?”
He kisses you breathless before he’s willing to answer. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about fucking you in this uniform.”
Oh.
You laugh, rest your forehead against his shoulder as your own shake with laughter. “Okay, I’ll bite. How many times?”
“Think every time I saw you in it?” He presses open-mouthed kisses against your exposed neck, urgent as he intersperses little nips here and there. You try not to gasp or wriggle too much at the ministrations—it’s more fun when he thinks he has to work harder to get you as worked up as he is.
Your hand winds into his hair, dropping your head back to let him access you a bit better. “Every time? I was being so innocent, working hard for the volleyball club and looking up to you, and you were thinking about fucking me? You’re such a pervert, senpai.”
The fingers gripping your waist twitch, and then he’s biting you properly with a growl.
“Thought about you calling me that while I did it, too.”
You’re learning so much today, you realize with a swoop in your stomach.
You drag a hand down his chest, find his hard-on with practiced ease. “We can arrange something, I think.”
He hisses at the touch, rolls his hips into your hand. “Fuck.”
Noya grabs your wrist, gentle but unyielding, and pins both against the wall with the one hand. His other slides up, under your vest, searching for the buttons at your chest. He pauses when he finds them—it takes almost no effort to slip his hand in to grope you over your bra. “You didn’t even bother buttoning the top?”
“Doesn’t fit anymore,” you gasp out when he runs a thumb over your nipple. Damn thin t-shirt bras. “It was buttoned, at least.”
“Uh huh.”
He pulls back, releases you just enough to tug the vest off, flinging it somewhere in the room and putting you properly on display for him, buttons undone so he can easily access your tits. He leans down, pulls one out of both bra and half-unbuttoned shirt just so he can tease you with his mouth.
He grows impatient before long—wandering hands snake beneath your skirt, grope your ass hurriedly only to swipe over your panties. Noya groans into your flesh. “You’re so wet already.”
“Well, someone came home and decided to ruin me—“
“Oh, I’ll ruin you, alright,” he declares. In the next moment—he was always too fast—he’s on his knees, pressing his nose against your clothed sex and inhaling.
See, that’s another thing you like about him.
He’s such a pervert.
He takes the chance to mark up your thighs, lathes his tongue over your wet panties instead of taking the time to at least pull them aside.
“You’re so perfect,” he breathes. “So fucking gorgeous. Look at this. Look at you.” This time, he pulls your panties to the side to plant his mouth on your pussy and suck harshly at your clit. You whine, tug at his hair.
“N-Noya—“
“You already know what to call me,” he chides. His head is buried under your skirt—two fingers dip into your sex and begin to frantically pump.
“Fuck—senpai—“
“God, I can’t take it. I’m sorry, you’re too perfect, I—“
And there’s the athleticism rearing its head, because he’s got you underneath him and on the floor in two seconds flat, grinding his cock against you in desperation. “You’re going to have to wear this again for me, beautiful. Need you to. I’ll literally die if you don’t.”
Whatever response you were going to give catches in your throat—it takes him no time at all to get his dick out, pull your panties aside, and slide into you in one sharp thrust.
“You’re so good. Such a sweet little kouhai. Used to feel so bad about it—other girls were pretty, but I couldn’t stop thinking about pulling you into the equipment storage and lifting that short little skirt—“ he grunts as he sets his pace.
You whine. Before long, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him any way you can just to stay in your body with the way he’s fucking you breathless.
“—think every time you called me “senpai” it took me at least fifteen minutes to recover—“
“Senpai,” you respond, more a moan than an attempt to say anything coherent, and his hips stutter.
“Yeah, like that,” he laughs. “Exactly like that.”
“Fuck—please, senpai, harder—need you—“
He growls again, arms shaking as he drills into you. It’s all you can do to keep holding on, keep whimpering into his ear while he has his way with you. When he cums, it’s harder than you’ve seen him cum in a long time, pulling out of you just to paint hot ropes across your now fully-askew uniform. He reaches between you, rubs at your clit frantically until you see stars.
When you’re both satisfied, he collapses face-first into your tits, winds his arms around your waist. Mumbles something you cannot begin to comprehend with your head still spinning.
“Love you, senpai,” you mumble back.
The arms around your waist tighten. He lifts his head just enough to be comprehensible. “If you’re going to keep calling me that, I’m going to have to demand a round two.”
“Next time, I’ll try to find your old jersey.”
That comment earns you a few more rounds and the decisive undoing of all the cleaning you’d gotten done today.
Worth it.
Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory
If you'd like to be tagged, let me know via any contact method and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in (eg. character-specific, all works, all smut works, etc.). If your url appears on this list but is not underlined/you didn't get a notification, please ensure your blog is set to appear in search results in your blog settings! If you've got it set not to for some particular reason, consider subscribing on my ao3 for an update notification, as I always crosspost on ao3 simultaneously. After three unsuccessful tagging attempts, you will be removed from the taglist.
As always, thank you for reading!
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At a certain point it's not even scary my mouth just starts swelling after brushing my teeth and it's just like. Seriously. Come the fuck on.
Just had an allergic reaction to the only safe toothpaste I've ever found <3
#distant citrus sounds#i want to replace my jaw with a robotic one specifically to have teeth that dont have to be maintained#since apparently im allergic to goddamn EVERYTHING YOU CAN MAINTAIN THEM WITH
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Just had an allergic reaction to the only safe toothpaste I've ever found <3
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darlin' i got your number now - nishinoya yuu/reader
m.list - read on ao3
A/N: I'mma keep it real with you chief it is finals week in my last semester of college and I have a five page paper due saturday I haven't started on but I took the time to bless you with porn instead and advance the noya agenda. you're welcome. my bachelor's degree, at least, will thank me, if no one else will.
Summary: On your day off, you spend some time cleaning and getting caught up in old memories. Your boyfriend gets home from work and helps you make a new one with your old school uniform.
Warnings: SMUT, noya has a senpai kink, he fucks you in your old school uniform, reader is afab and described as having breasts
Word count: 1700+
Four months ago, you moved in with your long-term boyfriend, and you couldn’t be happier. Sure, Noya is… an acquired taste, we’ll say, but he’s bright and sweet and always finds little ways to let you know he loves you. It’s hard to be mad at the mess that now permeates your living space when you wake up in the morning to needy kisses and no room for even a shred of doubt that you are wanted.
That being said, on a day like today—him out at his part-time job, you with no classes or shifts at your own job scheduled—you can’t help but try to fight the mess, just a little bit. An early morning, prodding Noya out the door because no, your landlord won’t accept “I wanted to stay in bed with my beautiful girlfriend” from him as a reason why rent is late, leads to restless looks not just at the piles of clothes scattering the floor, but at the overflowing laundry basket, the disorganized closet, the scattered boxes here and there that you still haven’t gotten around to unpacking. By lunchtime, you’ve made your to-do list and started working down the items on the list—throw in laundry first, tidy up, unpack the shit from your move that still needs to be unpacked so you can get the boxes out of the corner.
Of course, you get distracted. Laundry in the washer and not on the floor means, wait a minute, you can clean the floors now without too much trouble, and long story short, by the time Noya’s shift would be ending, you’re panicking a little because you still haven’t started on the boxes you need to unpack. You fly into the room, grab the first box you find—mementos—and are immediately slapped in the face with nostalgia.
To be fair, this is why you saved unpacking boxes for last.
On the top of the box, in pristine condition, staring back up at you, is your old uniform from when you went to Karasuno.
You’d been a year below Noya, gotten roped into managing the volleyball team. Mostly just gone along with it to have something to do after school, and then gone along with it because hey, their libero was kind of cute and they were overall pretty fun to hang out with. On his last day before he graduated, he’d asked you out, and of course you’d said yes, thrilled to not be losing your beloved senpai to the cruelty of time just yet.
Lost in memories, a little delirious from all the cleaning, your first coherent thought is I wonder if it still fits?
But you don’t get distracted again. You’ve got a lot to get done.
…right?
So anyways, you hear the front door closing and your boyfriend wandering through the apartment just as you’re remarking on the fact that, apparently, judging by the cries of pain the buttons on your chest seem to be making, your boobs have gotten a bit bigger since you last wore this uniform. No matter—you tug on the vest, slide into the blazer as you hear your boyfriend call out to you.
“Did you clean up a little today, baby?”
His voice is getting closer, and you realize, as he opens the bedroom door the rest of the way, that it probably looks a little weird to be standing in the middle of your room, several years out of high school, staring at your reflection in your full-length mirror to appraise your uniform. “Yeah,” you reply, looking at him reflected in the mirror. He’s stood still in the doorway, eyes suddenly wide. “I had the time and it was getting a little cluttered in here. Thought it’d be nice to actually get some of this shit unpacked. How was work?“
His eyes are burning, raking over your body. You guess the skirt is a little too short now—you’ve filled out over the years, and, well, Noya has never really been able to resist you in a short skirt. You can actually see him swallow. “What are you wearing?”
“My old uniform? I found it in one of these boxes and thought I’d see if it still fit me. Answer: not really.”
The next thing you know, you’re being pressed up against the wall, his mouth against yours, and—oh.
He’s hard.
He pulls away just enough to nearly growl against your lips: “Did one of the guys tell you?”
“…no,” you reply, more confused than innocent. “Tell me what?”
“You’re actually just that perfect?” He laughs, sounding delirious. He captures your lips again, needy as his hands come to rest on your hips. “Amazing.”
“Noya, baby, you’re gonna have to give me a little context for what’s got you so revved up,” you tease. “What’s going on in that empty head of yours?”
He kisses you breathless before he’s willing to answer. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about fucking you in this uniform.”
Oh.
You laugh, rest your forehead against his shoulder as your own shake with laughter. “Okay, I’ll bite. How many times?”
“Think every time I saw you in it?” He presses open-mouthed kisses against your exposed neck, urgent as he intersperses little nips here and there. You try not to gasp or wriggle too much at the ministrations—it’s more fun when he thinks he has to work harder to get you as worked up as he is.
Your hand winds into his hair, dropping your head back to let him access you a bit better. “Every time? I was being so innocent, working hard for the volleyball club and looking up to you, and you were thinking about fucking me? You’re such a pervert, senpai.”
The fingers gripping your waist twitch, and then he’s biting you properly with a growl.
“Thought about you calling me that while I did it, too.”
You’re learning so much today, you realize with a swoop in your stomach.
You drag a hand down his chest, find his hard-on with practiced ease. “We can arrange something, I think.”
He hisses at the touch, rolls his hips into your hand. “Fuck.”
Noya grabs your wrist, gentle but unyielding, and pins both against the wall with the one hand. His other slides up, under your vest, searching for the buttons at your chest. He pauses when he finds them—it takes almost no effort to slip his hand in to grope you over your bra. “You didn’t even bother buttoning the top?”
“Doesn’t fit anymore,” you gasp out when he runs a thumb over your nipple. Damn thin t-shirt bras. “It was buttoned, at least.”
“Uh huh.”
He pulls back, releases you just enough to tug the vest off, flinging it somewhere in the room and putting you properly on display for him, buttons undone so he can easily access your tits. He leans down, pulls one out of both bra and half-unbuttoned shirt just so he can tease you with his mouth.
He grows impatient before long—wandering hands snake beneath your skirt, grope your ass hurriedly only to swipe over your panties. Noya groans into your flesh. “You’re so wet already.”
“Well, someone came home and decided to ruin me—“
“Oh, I’ll ruin you, alright,” he declares. In the next moment—he was always too fast—he’s on his knees, pressing his nose against your clothed sex and inhaling.
See, that’s another thing you like about him.
He’s such a pervert.
He takes the chance to mark up your thighs, lathes his tongue over your wet panties instead of taking the time to at least pull them aside.
“You’re so perfect,” he breathes. “So fucking gorgeous. Look at this. Look at you.” This time, he pulls your panties to the side to plant his mouth on your pussy and suck harshly at your clit. You whine, tug at his hair.
“N-Noya—“
“You already know what to call me,” he chides. His head is buried under your skirt—two fingers dip into your sex and begin to frantically pump.
“Fuck—senpai—“
“God, I can’t take it. I’m sorry, you’re too perfect, I—“
And there’s the athleticism rearing its head, because he’s got you underneath him and on the floor in two seconds flat, grinding his cock against you in desperation. “You’re going to have to wear this again for me, beautiful. Need you to. I’ll literally die if you don’t.”
Whatever response you were going to give catches in your throat—it takes him no time at all to get his dick out, pull your panties aside, and slide into you in one sharp thrust.
“You’re so good. Such a sweet little kouhai. Used to feel so bad about it—other girls were pretty, but I couldn’t stop thinking about pulling you into the equipment storage and lifting that short little skirt—“ he grunts as he sets his pace.
You whine. Before long, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him any way you can just to stay in your body with the way he’s fucking you breathless.
“—think every time you called me “senpai” it took me at least fifteen minutes to recover—“
“Senpai,” you respond, more a moan than an attempt to say anything coherent, and his hips stutter.
“Yeah, like that,” he laughs. “Exactly like that.”
“Fuck—please, senpai, harder—need you—“
He growls again, arms shaking as he drills into you. It’s all you can do to keep holding on, keep whimpering into his ear while he has his way with you. When he cums, it’s harder than you’ve seen him cum in a long time, pulling out of you just to paint hot ropes across your now fully-askew uniform. He reaches between you, rubs at your clit frantically until you see stars.
When you’re both satisfied, he collapses face-first into your tits, winds his arms around your waist. Mumbles something you cannot begin to comprehend with your head still spinning.
“Love you, senpai,” you mumble back.
The arms around your waist tighten. He lifts his head just enough to be comprehensible. “If you’re going to keep calling me that, I’m going to have to demand a round two.”
“Next time, I’ll try to find your old jersey.”
That comment earns you a few more rounds and the decisive undoing of all the cleaning you’d gotten done today.
Worth it.
Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory
If you'd like to be tagged, let me know via any contact method and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in (eg. character-specific, all works, all smut works, etc.). If your url appears on this list but is not underlined/you didn't get a notification, please ensure your blog is set to appear in search results in your blog settings! If you've got it set not to for some particular reason, consider subscribing on my ao3 for an update notification, as I always crosspost on ao3 simultaneously. After three unsuccessful tagging attempts, you will be removed from the taglist.
As always, thank you for reading!
#nishinoya yuu x reader#yuu nishinoya x reader#noya x reader#noya/reader#nishinoya yuu/reader#my fics
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Nice consequences, did your actions pick them out for you ?
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The impossible duo (the simpletons)
THIS SHIT is the only thing that makes me happy these days.
Only volleyball players on my mind. all day long. how do you expect me to work in these conditions...
I sure hope I can draw more of these fellas, there are so many characters that I like (my favorite is Nishinoya, he's definitely the one I'll draw next).
Anyway here's some kagehina, I totally ship it.
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A customer contacted our team with questions, and then finished their email with: "I am daunted by the complexities and unknowns." I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.
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there is such a trauma to daughterhood. it comes from the lack of agency - not only from being born as a woman but existing in the world as a child. an oppression on top of an oppression. people make jokes about girls with daddy issues but nothing compares to the kind of trauma you recieve from having a complicated relationship with your mother. people talk about it so often. and it's one thing to have a mother who hates you which is always awful, but often it feels worse to have a mother who doesn't. to have a mother who is simply exhausted by the fact you were born. a mother who doesn't hate you, but loves her men more. a mother who maybe wanted to be a mom, once, and then came to realize what a thankless job it was. and she didn't want to hate you, but it was hard to love you and even harder to like you. a mother who doesn't hate you exactly, but never outgrows her desire to be attractive and beautiful and makes you her enemy in that way. or a mother who has nothing more to her than being a mother and clings to coddling you in a way thats suffocating. so many daughters develop deep empathy for the mothers because they were women, daughters, girls once. everyone deals with it differently. but at the end of it, you still need a mother and that is the most horrible and wretched part of all. the trauma of being alive, of being a woman, and of having a mother but still needing one. such a uniquely miserable feeling
#and then when you fail to be a daughter the way she wants it#and she doesn't say it but you KNOW you're failing#it's ok I'm fine we're GOOD
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women’s right to respect isnt determined by how fuckable you think they are btw
#this is why I hate all the 'oh rb if you think [x] is beautiful' shit#I don't. I also don't think it has to be to be good or nice or worthy
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i don’t flirt i just say weird shit until you tell me i’m pretty & wanna kiss me
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honestly if i could absolve everyone of one thing it would be any lingering shame about not knowing how to take care of your body/health because of a home environment that didnt teach you how to or prevented you from doing so. i wince every time i see people snap at strangers online with 'how DIDNT you know that!?' to like, basic hygiene or nutritional information. or hell even just for having believed misinformation... i do think its important that, once youre an adult to form a curiosity about these things and i cheer everyone on who's still learning. i wish the world were gentler to us all, its difficult to know what it is you're lacking if you were never shown how to or taught the importance of how to care for yourself. i think we can all get there someday
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adhd symptoms are always just mild enough to seem fake but just severe enough to make everyone on planet earth think you’re an asshole for having them. not a big fan of this paradox tbh
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