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haikyuu 🏐

haikyuu smau masterlist 📱

kenma kozume masterlist 🍮

kuroo tetsuro masterlist 🧪

akaashi keiji masterlist 📚

tooru oikawa masterlist 🍞

iwaizumi hajime masterlist 🧸

tsukishima kei masterlist 👓

jujutsu kaisen 💥

-

“with this treasure, i summon… eight handled sword divergent sila divine general, mahoraga” you announce calmly, extending both arms forward with your fists closed.

the training grounds are empty when you summon him.

shadows begin to pool at your feet, familiar now, obedient. you don’t brace for impact anymore. you don’t fear the idea that summoning him means you must die aswell.

mahoraga steps from the dark like a memory made solid. the wheel above his head turns once. then stops.

he doesn’t advance or kneel. he simply watches.

you move through your forms slowly, deliberately. your cursed energy threads through your limbs as you strike, dodge, and redirect. testing your precision rather than power. every motion is measured and intentional.

you’re aware of him the entire time. not as a threat. as a presence that loomed quietly.

you feel his attention like heat against your back, his gaze tracking the minute shifts in your balance, the way your breathing changes when you grow tired. you stumble once, and the shadows at your feet ripple in response. mahoraga’s fingers twitch.

you steady yourself and continue.

when you finish, your chest rises and falls too quickly. sweat cools against your skin as the adrenaline fades. you lower your stance and exhale, long and slow. only then do you turn.

mahoraga stands where he always does, just close enough to be overwhelming, just far enough to give you space. his towering form blocks the wind, the setting sun casting his shadow over you like a cloak.

his wheel does not turn.

you meet his gaze.

there is no command in your cursed energy. no summoning order binding him to obedience. what flows between you now is something softer. maybe recognition.

your emotions bleed through the bond without permission. exhaustion, satisfaction, the quiet ache of wanting to be seen. you don’t push them away. you let the emotions exist.

mahoraga tilts his head.

it’s a small motion that’s devastating in its gentleness.

you feel the moment he adapts, not to your technique, but to the silence between you. to the way your heartbeat slows as you stand there, unguarded.

you take one step closer. he doesn’t retreat. the air between you thickens, charged with something unspoken. you can sense his awareness pressing closer, not invading, but curious. learning the difference between fear and trust, between solitude and this, whatever it is.

your hand lifts without conscious thought. you stop just short of touching him.

mahoraga lowers himself, not quite kneeling or bowing, but enough that his massive frame brings his gaze level with yours. the ground hums beneath the shift in his weight. his wheel turns once. then stills again.

you feel an unfamiliar emotion echoing back through the bond. it’s a careful feeling. you let your hand fall against the armored plane of his chest. the contact is brief, but mahoraga doesn’t move away.

he simply stands there with you, letting your fingers dance around on his chest, hard abs tightening at the gentleness of your touch.

when you finally lower your hand, mahoraga is quick to pull it back to his chest. your eyes widen at the unexpected gesture, mahoraga had never been one for touch. you summon him, he does his duties, he leaves.

you take a step back. his hand slowly raises, he silently decided it was his turn to touch. mahoraga’s giant hand lands on your chest, just a little to the left. he can feel your heart. the eight handled wheel above his head began to turn. he’s adapting to the way your heart began to race.

you bring your own hand up, grazing over his larger one. he nudges his hand down lower so that he’s cupping the swell of your breast. your eyes shoot up to meet his own winged ones. his exploration of your body doesn’t stop there. he’s careful not to use the arm he wields his sword on.

“nghh— this isn’t…” your voice falters. you swallowed hard. “this isn’t right”

the shikigami retracts his hand quickly. the pause in his touch is deliberate. silences hums around you softly. every rule you were ever taught is screaming that this is wrong. shikigami are tools, mahoraga was a divine being used for violence. but if that was true, why would was his touch so gentle?

you take a deep breath before taking his hand and placing back to your breast. he gives it a rough squeeze that forces a mewl out of your lips. you raise one arm to caress his muscular biceps. centuries of fighting left him with the body to prove it.

a low growl escapes his mouth at your touch, which spurts you on farther. you drag your hand up his arm, all the way to caress his face. that does it. he scoops you up, effectively throwing you over his shoulder. you squeak, hitting at his back.

“hey—! put me down, m’sorry!” you cried out, kicking helplessly at his chest. he raised his free hand, using it to send a sharp smack right to your ass. you gripped onto his shoulder hard as he carried you to some dark corner of the training grounds.

he finally set you down, carefully letting his robed bottoms fall to the ground. you couldn’t do anything but stare as your jaw falls open. two aching cocks sprang free.

you couldn’t help but feel your panties dampen at the sight. it was wrong, so terribly wrong. but the way his two heads were leaking pearlescent beads of precum made you want a taste. slowly, you wrap one hand over one of his massive dicks. the warmth was palpable in your hand. a soft grunt left the creatures mouth. assuming that was good, you continued to stroke his weepy length.

to test the waters, you stuck your tongue out and kitten licked the underside of one of his cocks while fisting the other. his large hand finds your hair and curls it up into a messy ponytail. you fully wrapped your lips around his head, struggling to take the rest of his length. drool pooled down your chin as you bobbed your head slowly, letting your tongue stay flat on the underside of his cock. you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you to his tip, before moving over to his other dick. you repeated the same motion. slow and messy as you worked your head up and down, hollowing out your cheeks when you could handle it.

just then does the shikigami pull you from his cock, using his sworded hand to cut your pants right from your body. you tried to cover up your nude body, but mahoraga is already using his large hand to lift you up and place you on top one of his throbbing dicks. you claw at his shoulders and armored pecs, scrambling for any purchase as he sinks you down. the stretch is otherworldly, it feels like he was ripping you open from the inside out.

“ahh— slow— please!” you begged, but your pleas fell upon dead ears.

you feel something prodding at your other hole, your juices flowing down made it easy for mahoraga to slip his second cock in your ass. you clawed at him, crying out for mercy. stuffed completely full with both cocks as they worked simultaneously, hitting the deepest spots of your body. drool trickled down your face, going dumb on the shikigamis lengths.

soft groans left his lips, it wasn’t human, nothing about this was human. he sped up his sloppy thrusts, his pace not faltering for a moment. the lewd noises of your arousal only heightened your awareness of the fact you were getting fucked by a monster. the coil in your tummy tightens as your clit rubbed right against his hard abs. you weren’t gonna last much longer, not with the way he was everywhere.

you bring a hand up to rest flatly on his chest. “m’close— please! s—sooo much” you slurred.

he must’ve felt the way your holes clenched around him, switching from punishing thrusts to devastatingly slow grinds. before your brain could process it, you were cumming. your juices squirted out rapidly, the release was euphoric. your gummy walls fluttered helplessly around his cocks.

your orgasm must’ve pushed the shikigami right over his edge, because with a final roar he buries himself to the hilt and cums right after you. thick and hot ropes of cum painted your ass and cunt, the sensation was unreal. he came for what felt like years, rope after rope shooting right up into your womb. you could do nothing but lay there helplessly as he filled you up.

the two of your sat there for a few minutes, needing to process what the hell just happened. much more gently now, mahoraga lifted you off his cocks, his seed trickling out of both your holes and down your now sticky thighs.

-

you lie surrounded by shadow and dim light. your entire body aches in that intimate way that reminds you that you’re still alive.

mahoraga remained close afterwards. he settled beside you, massive form lowered, the wheel above his head turning slowly now. your fingers twitched at your sides, and before you can think of what you were doing, your hand reaches for him.

his response is careful, one large hand coming to rest near yours, close enough that the heat of him bleeds into your skin. when you close the distance yourself, threading your fingers against the hardened planes of his knuckles, he stills.

divine creature or not, love fills the bond between you two.

blue.

that’s the first thing you think of every time your phone lights up. his blue name at the top of the screen, the blue read receipts, the blue cold of silence when that name disappears for days.

and it’s been days.

you pretend you’re not checking, not waiting, not spiraling. you pretend you’re not replaying that last conversation where he said, quietly, like he was trying not to bruise you—

“i’m not ready for a relationship.”

and you pretended that it didn’t bruise. you nodded like the confession didn't lodge itself under your ribs.

but tonight something in you had snapped. you send a message.

then another.

then a third.

he shows up at your door.

toji stands there, hood up, eyes shadowed, jaw tight. he looks like he regrets even being born into this moment.

“what do you want?” he mutters.

“i want you to talk to me.” your voice is already cracking at the sight of him.

he sighs, running a large hand over his face. “we already talked.”

“no. you made a declaration and then vanished.” your throat burned. “you can’t say you’re not ready and then pretend i don’t exist.”

he scoffs, actually scoffs. “whad’ya expect? for me to check in every day like nothing changed?”

the way he says “nothing changed” makes you flinch.

“everything changed,” you snapped. “you changed it.”

his gaze flicks away. “i didn’t change anything. you’re the one who keeps trying to make this into more than it is.”

something inside you curdles.

“that’s cruel,” you said.

toji meets your eyes, and something sharp flashes there, self-defense, guilt, fear, all masquerading as indifference. “what’s cruel is you acting like i owe you something.”

“you don’t owe me anything,” you breathe, “except honesty. except communication. except— not disappearing on me like i’m some… inconvenience.”

he laughs, low and humorless. “you’re being dramatic.”

“because i care!”

“that’s the problem.”

he says it so fast, so carelessly, like he’s been thinking it for days.

your mouth goes dry. “the problem?”

“yes,” he snaps. “you feel too much. you drag emotions out of people, and i don’t want it. i don’t want you digging into me like that.”

the words hit like thrown stones.

ugly and precise.

“then why didn’t you leave earlier?” your voice cracks again. “why keep me close? why let me think—”

“you assumed,” he cuts in.

you stare at him. “you let me.”

he doesn’t deny it.

which hurts worse.

you’re breathing too fast, chest hitching. “just tell me. tell me what i did. tell me why you’re pushing me away like i’m some kind of poison.”

toji’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking. “i don’t want your feelings. i don’t want your expectations. i don’t want—”

“me,” you declare quietly.

he closes his eyes as if even the word hurts him.

“you’re turning this into something toxic,” he says. “you’re making it ugly.”

“it was already ugly.”

your voice rose.

“my chest hurts every time i think of you. i can’t sleep. i can’t eat. i keep waiting for you to care even a little—”

“that’s not my responsibility,” he bites.

something in you folds.

you’re crying before you realize it. hot, humiliating, shaking tears that fall and won’t stop. “toji. please. please just… say something. anything. that you cared. that i meant something. that i wasn’t just…just some fucking hookup!.”

he stares at you like the request is too much to process.

“i don’t know what you want from me,” he says softly. “i don’t… i’m not good at this.”

“i don’t want good.”

your voice breaks in the middle.

“i just want a sign. any sign that i wasn’t the only one feeling these things. please.”

he looks at you, and you see it.

the instinct to run.

because caring for anyone has only ever ended in loss for toji fushiguro.

his lips part and unpart like he’s going to say something, anything. but nothing comes out.

the silence is worse than any word he could’ve said.

you sob, shoulders shaking. “toji, please. please.”

he looks at the ground. then to the side. anywhere but at you. and you understand. you’re begging for color from someone who only knows how to drain it away.