Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The night began like any other clubbing night. Just Oikawa and his gaggle of pretty setters—covered in glitter and reeking of booze. He felt sexy, desirable. Like a lion on the prowl. He was getting fucked tonight whether it be the last thing he did or not. He was wearing a teal cut-off cropped tank and tight leather shorts, abs on full display.

“Damnnnnn, Kawa, you look good tonight,” Atsumu said, smacking his best friend on the back. He giggled at the compliment, jokingly flipping his hair and winking at him. Kenma groaned at his antics.

“If you could fuck your own ass, I bet you would,” he said before sipping his pre-game vodka cranberry.

“Thank you, I would. No one else can handle all this,” Oikawa said, gesturing at his general appearance. The other boys laughed but Kenma simply rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Oiks, I could handle that,” Suga said blowing a kiss. Atsumu seconded that, but Akaashi firmly said he couldn’t.

“Two pillow princesses don’t make a top,” Akaashi said simply. The three more vocal of the boys laughed wildly while Kenma gave a light chuckle.

They stumbled out of the Uber and into the pulsing neon mess that was Club Ignis , the bass thudding in Oikawa’s ribs like a second heartbeat. Inside, bodies were already writhing under strobe lights, drinks being thrown back like regrets, and Oikawa could smell sweat, desperation, and what might’ve been Kenma’s lavender body spray.

He led the way, obviously, sauntering through the crowd with the full confidence of someone who definitely just spent twenty minutes posing for mirror selfies before leaving the apartment.

“Drink first, dance later,” Suga declared, grabbing Atsumu by the wrist and dragging him toward the bar.

Oikawa hung back for a second, scanning the dance floor. He looked like a man on a mission. He was a man on a mission.

“I give him twenty minutes before he tries to make eye contact with someone who’ll ruin his life,” Akaashi murmured behind him, sipping a gin and tonic like it was poetry.

Oikawa didn’t dignify that with a response.

He just threw a wink over his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd like the main character he knew he was.

The hardest part of being pretty?

Getting attention from men who looked like bad breath personified.

Drunken attempt after drunken attempt, none of them had come close to what he needed tonight: someone hot enough to ruin his life, or at least rearrange his guts. Spiritually. Maybe physically.

One guy tried to grind on him with the coordination of a sea lion on roller skates.

Another called him “sweet cheeks” and spilled half a rum and coke down his arm.

Oikawa wiped it off with a dramatic sigh and reminded himself: this was the cost of beauty.

He’d just finished rejecting a guy in a fedora (a fedora , in this economy?) when he felt it—
A pair of eyes. Heavy. Focused.

He turned his head, slow, practiced. And there he was.

Across the floor. Tight black t-shirt. Broad shoulders. Arms that looked like they could bench press a car and then throw Oikawa over it for fun.

The guy wasn’t dancing. He was just watching . A beer in hand, like he’d only shown up out of obligation, like nothing here impressed him.

Oikawa licked his lips. Show time.

As he began his saunter over to the aforementioned tall drink of water, another vile man ground against him. This one said something about partying with drugs which—no way in hell would Oikawa touch that.

He glanced back toward the mysterious man, only to find his expression had changed—hard, tense. His fists clenched at his sides, writhing with jealousy at the display.

And, being the brat he was, a lightbulb went off.

Ignoring the offer, Oikawa swung the man behind him, placing the guy’s hands on his own waist and swaying to the beat of the EDM track pulsing through the speakers.

He made sure his body looked delicious , rolling his hips in a way that was downright sinful for anyone watching as intently as Black T-Shirt was. And Oikawa was watching back just as intently—licking his perfectly glossed lips, parting them just enough to be obscene, just enough to be bait .

And just when he thought he’d won, the spiky-haired male abruptly stood from his casually leaned position and headed straight for the bar.

This one would be hard to catch.

—-

Never one to be deterred by a challenge, Oikawa returned to the group’s original spot at the bar, finding Kenma and Akaashi exactly where he’d left them.

“Any luck?” the black-haired male yelled over the noise.

Oikawa shook his head. “No, but I found one I want. Made him jealous—but I think I made him a little too jealous, if you know what I mean.”

“How about you two?”

“Haven’t even looked around yet,” Akaashi replied, taking a long sip from his cocktail. “We figured we’d need to be more peppy and approachable.”

“Never change, boys. Never change.”

Oikawa’s eyes scanned the bar. “Oh— I see him! ”

With deliberate ease, he slipped into a stool a few seats down from his observer.

He wanted to play hard to get?

Two could play that game.

Every offer to buy him a drink, Oikawa flirtatiously accepted from the oncoming men. Sweet smiles, a hand on a shoulder, a laugh that was just the right amount of breathy. He made sure to look like someone worth fighting for.

He caught his admirer’s side glances once or twice, felt the heat of being watched, willed him to speak first.

But he just sat there, nursing his whiskey. Jaw tight and chiseled, eyes locked somewhere in the distance like he was brooding for sport.

Oikawa twirled the straw in his drink, lips pursed just enough to highlight the gloss. He shifted in his seat, crossed one leg over the other. Still nothing.

Was this man made of stone ?

He could feel his own pride bubbling dangerously close to the surface. He didn’t need to chase. People chased him . But something about the way this one didn’t budge—like he wasn’t impressed, like he was daring Oikawa to try harder—lit a spark somewhere in his gut.

Maybe this wasn’t about getting laid anymore. Maybe this was war.

And Oikawa never lost.

“I know you want me, y’know. You were basically undressing me with your eyes across the dance floor,” the brunette said, annoyed. He couldn’t handle the tension anymore—he needed to figure out if this was a waste of time or not.

When the man didn’t respond, Oikawa let out a dramatic sigh and begrudgingly stood. He slid into the stool directly next to him, vodka soda in hand, and impatiently stared him down, waiting for an answer.

The man finally turned to him—slowly, like he was doing Oikawa a favor.

“I wasn’t undressing you with my eyes,” he said, voice low and unimpressed. “You did that all by yourself.”

Oikawa blinked. Once.

Then smirked.

Game. On.

“Just wanted to give you a preview of later tonight,” Oikawa said, voice smooth with a bite. “Unless I’m not pretty enough for your strong physique.”

He took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink, eyes locked on the man beside him—every motion dripping with calculated temptation.

The man finally let out a low, amused huff.

“You’re pretty enough. Beyond pretty, actually,” he muttered, still not fully turning to him. “But I don’t fall for easy bait.”

Oikawa smiled sweetly, venom behind the gloss. “Good thing I’m more of a trap, then.”

The man fully turned to Oikawa then, eyes sweeping over him slowly—like he was reminding himself of everything he’d already seen.

He leaned in, close to Oikawa’s ear, the latter heating up from the sudden proximity.

He could feel the man’s warmth, the sharp bite of cologne curling into his senses.

“God, I hope not,” he murmured—

And then he stood, disappeared into the music, and was gone.

Oikawa stared after him, drink in hand, mind blank.

Oh.

He was definitely getting fucked tonight.

——

“I may have just met the man of my dreams!” Oikawa swooned, dramatically throwing his arms over Atsumu and Suga.

The pair immediately swatted him off, groaning at the overwhelming wave of body heat he brought with him.

“Oh yeah?” Suga yelled over the music, grinning. “Tell us about him, stud.”

Oikawa collapsed into the space between them like a fainting diva. “Tall. Brooding. Arms like vengeance incarnate. Said I was ‘beyond pretty,’ then vanished into the crowd like some kind of emotionally unavailable Greek god.”

“Oh wow, he’s in deep with this one,” Atsumu muttered before sipping his drink.

“Look—he’s the one over there with the other tall, dark, and handsome guy,” Oikawa said, directing their attention to the corner.

At that, Suga spat out his drink, blushing from head to toe.

“Woah there, silver fox, he’s mine ,” Oikawa said, dabbing the alcohol off Suga’s chin with a cocktail napkin.

“No, no, no—the one next to him,” Suga said quickly. “I made out with him by the bathroom. He was a goooood kisser. I want to lick his face, actually.”

Oikawa pulled a face of mock shock and pride, patting his best friend’s back in support. “Get it, Suga.”

“Well, at least you two are having some luck,” Atsumu huffed. “This awfully disgusting guy came onto me, and then—get this—this sexy guy in a face mask threw him off me . Didn’t say a word, didn’t check if I was okay—just disappeared. But god, he was so fine.”

He craned his neck, scanning the crowd.

“Well, Suga,” Oikawa said, practically bouncing on his tiptoes, “since our men are together, perhaps we approach them together?”

“Don’t make me regret this, hot stuff.”

The pair began their descent, leaving Atsumu to regroup with Akaashi and Kenma. The man unfamiliar to Oikawa smiled with clear pleasure at the sight of Suga.

“Hi, sweet thing,” he greeted.

Oikawa could practically grow a cavity from the mushiness of it all. He stole a glance at the mysterious man beside him—who, to Oikawa’s satisfaction, also watched the scene with mild, loving disgust at his friend’s choice of words.

“Care to dance?” Suga asked, already grabbing the stranger’s wrist and dragging him away. The taller man looked like he would’ve followed regardless of the tether.

“Wow, that was—”

“A sugar overdose?” Oikawa cut in. “Comes with his name, I suppose.”

When the other man blinked at him, clearly not catching on, Oikawa floundered for a second before clarifying.

“His name is Suga… like sugar? Sweet?” He sipped his drink and winced. “Never mind.”

“So, do you have a name, Mr. Beyond Pretty?”

Oikawa burned at the nickname.

“Thought you wouldn’t care to know, considering your last disappearance,” he quipped back.

“Well, considering you found me, I think my plan kind of worked,” he chuckled—deep and just rough enough to send a shiver down Oikawa’s spine. Oikawa wondered what it would feel like if he hummed against his throat.

“Tooru Oikawa,” he said with no apparent falter. He sipped his drink, staring over the rim at the man’s reaction to his name.

“What a beautiful name,” he said.

“And you?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Hmm,” Oikawa thought to himself, tapping the glass to his chin.

“Iwa-Chan!”

“What now?” The man said in confusion. Oikawa stepped closer, caging Iwaizumi in with only the table behind him.

“It’s more…moanable,” Oikawa said in a low tone.

Iwaizumi chuckled, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, “You’ll be too fucked out to moan, Tooru.”

And Oikawa was red in an instant, already a little wet in his panties. No one had ever made his name simultaneously sound like the most precious object on the planet and like the filthiest thing in the alleyway.

Oikawa caught Iwaizumi’s neck in his hand, leaning forward to whisper back, “Your place or mine?”

——

The door to Iwaizumi’s place slammed open as they stumbled inside, trading sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss. Iwaizumi all but backed Oikawa up onto the couch, falling on top of him with a thud.

Their mouths never parted—just hunger, just desire. Hands roamed without hesitation, exploring the man above him: chiseled muscles built to be touched, to be worshipped.

Oikawa had never been manhandled this good.

Iwaizumi licked into Oikawa’s mouth, the latter welcoming him with enthusiasm. With ease, he wrapped Oikawa’s legs around his waist and lifted him, carrying him toward the bedroom.

Oikawa pulled back, gasping as Iwaizumi’s lips moved to his throat.

“Fuck, Iwa… you’re such a good kisser. Making me feel so good,” he said breathlessly.

Iwaizumi laid him down gently, like he was something precious—fragile and too beautiful to break.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you,” Iwaizumi promised, voice low and full of intent. “Make you feel so good, you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

Oikawa giggled into their next kiss, liking the sound of that a little too much. He tugged at Iwa’s shirt, pulling it up to their chins before breaking apart just long enough to strip it off completely. His eyes trailed down, admiring the defined muscles, his fingers roaming over the ridges of Iwaizumi’s abs, ghosting over his nipples with a featherlight touch. It was divine.

Iwaizumi took the opening to peel off Oikawa’s tank top, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of his leather shorts, tugging them down in one smooth motion—revealing a pair of black lace underwear.

“Well, would you look at that,” he murmured, voice low with appreciation. “You were begging to be fucked tonight, huh?”

“Just shut up and be glad it’s you,” Oikawa shot back, dragging him in for another rough kiss. His hands raked down Iwaizumi’s back, drinking in the feel of warm skin stretched tight over powerful lateral muscles.

Iwaizumi moved to his jaw, kissing and licking down his neck. He sucked a bruising mark at Tooru’s pulse point, kissing it as an apology when he felt a hiss vibrate through Oikawa’s throat.

He kept making his way down, swirling his tongue around a hard bud before biting down. Oikawa moaned at the feeling, squealing a bit when Iwaizumi flicked the other one. He kissed over to it, licking away the sting while still toying with the other one.

His attention moved south, kissing down Oikawa’s stomach. His hands groped his sides, moving up and down to lavish Oikawa’s figure. He looked up at Oikawa, the ladder withering underneath his attention. No man had ever really taken his time with him. It was always fuck and no foreplay. He could get used to this.

Iwaizumi skipped over Oikawa’s underwear, and by association his leaking cock, to kiss at his thighs. The more attention they got the wider Oikawa found himself spreading his legs.

Iwa broke his lips away from Oikawa’s skin, fingers toying with the underwear, “God you taste so good baby. I could eat you up any day of the week, any time of day. But I have to wonder,” he said pulling the underwear to the side, revealing Tooru’s hole, “do you taste just as good down here?”

Oikawa could’ve ascended from the animalistic hunger in Iwaizumi’s eyes. He started out slow, curious even, licking stripes up his hole and swirling his tongue around the rim. He moved his hands down, one to keep Oikawa from bucking his hips up, and the other to poke and squeeze at the flesh of his ass.

Once he got a clue into what made Oikawa squirm, he held no mercy. He prodded and spat into his hole, licking into it like he was cleaning out a tub of ice cream. Iwaizumi open-mouth-kissed into his hole, moaned into it. It was the sexiest thing ever done to Oikawa. He swore he could come just from this.

“Come one baby, let me hear that pretty voice of yours,” Iwa said before spitting filthily into Oikawa.

“Oh fuck- fuck fuck fuck…that feels amazing Iwaa…you’re gonna make me cum,” he said, letting all of it go.

“Not yet, beautiful, I want you to wait. I want you to come with me,” he said before lapping at Oikawa’s entrance. Iwa’s voice, eyes, the seductive desperation in his movements…all of it was enough for Oikawafo suppress his urge.

After a few minutes of Iwaizumi admiring and abusing Oikawa’s rim, he pulled back and kissed all the way up to Oikawa’s lips. The taste of himself entering his mouth was a huge turn on, and not something he thought would be.

“Come on Iwa please…my hole feels ready. I can take you please, please.. I need to so bad,” he babbled at the loss of warmth. Iwa simply shushed him and licked into his mouth again, finger tracing the circle of Oikawa’s rim.

“I want you to really enjoy my cock, but first I need to make sure you’ll be able to take it. Be good for me and let me stretch you out more, ok?” Oikawa nodded reluctantly, eager to be filled up by Iwaizumi no matter the body part.

The finger tracing a circle lightly prodded in, one knuckle deep. Oikawa opened up some more and Iwa pushed it all the way in, the pair moaning in tandem at the filthy noise it made going in.

“You’re so perfect for me, Tooru. So complacent under me, letting me make you feel good,” he said as he began fucking the finger further into his hole. Oikawa was a moaning, babbling mess at the friction. He weakly tugged at Iwa to kiss him, and Iwaizumi couldn’t deny Oikawa anything he wanted.

A second finger went in and then a third, the three digits working to scissor Oikawa’s tight hole open for Iwaizumi’s cock. Oikawa felt so full and loose from just his fingers. Once he felt loose enough, Iwaizumi released his fingers. Oikawa took the opportunity to flip them over, effectively straddling his lap.

“You’ve taken such good care of me, Iwa, let me return the favor,” he said as he undid Iwaizumi’s belt. He raised off of him just high enough to shimmy his pants down, revealing Iwaizumi’s boxers.

He rolled his hips down teasingly, the fabric from both of their underwear separating them. They moaned together, the friction and the tension becoming all too much.

Oikawa slid down, hovering his face over Iwa’s bulge. He mouthed at his clothed erection, leaving a saliva stain. He pinched the waistband with his teeth, dragging Iwaizumi’s boxers down to his thighs before impatiently ripping them off with his hands.

Eager eyes took in the sight of Iwaizumi’s hard cock. Expert lips kissed at the head, a low grumble elicited from Hajime’s throat. Deciding he liked that reaction, Oikawa licked up his shaft, swirling his tongue over Iwaizumi’s cock head. He sunk down, taking in just the head before popping off. He repeated this motion, taking an inch more each time. Once Iwaizumi was fully in this throat, Oikawa hallowed his cheeks and sucked hard.

“Oh fuck you’re so good at this,” Iwaizumi moaned out, hands gently threading Oikawa’s curls. The ladder hummed in approval, bobbing up and down while continuing to suck hard. Right when he could tell Hajime was close, he popped his moth off.

“Sorry, love, but if I can’t come yet neither can you,” he said teasingly. Iwaizumi leaned down, smashing his lips into Oikawa’s for a bruising kiss. Oikawa moaned in response, allowing Iwaizumi to roughly pull him into his lap.

He broke their kiss to ask, “Can I ride you?” All Iwaizumi could do was nod before pulling him back in for another kiss. Oikawa rolled his hips back again, this time lining Iwaizumi’s cock with his hole. He slowly let it sink into him, fucking it in and out to slowly stretch open for him.

“Oh fuckkk you’re so big. You feel so good in me Iwa,” he moaned. He bottomed out and positioned his hands on Iwaizumi’s abs, the ladder anchoring his hips down. Pleasure sizzled through Oikawa’s body, the need to release simmering deep in his stomach.

He started out slowly, rolling his hips and fucking himself back into Iwaizumi’s cock. When he felt more comfortable, the brunette began bouncing at a rapid pace. At some point, Hajime just held Oikawa up by the thighs and began fucking up into him. It was pure bliss for Oikawa.

"Fuck, Haji—fuck, please—" he babbles, voice cracking around it. "I can't—I'm gonna—please—,” he moans. He can’t last much longer like this. Iwaizumi roughly flips them over, pinning Oikawa’s hands up above his head. He doubles his speed, burying his cock so far into Oikawa’s slick hole that the brunette began seeing stars.

Oikawa’s sobbing loudly now, tears staining his cheeks as he’s pounded into. His tight ring of muscle clenches down on Iwaizumi’s cock, the man above him letting our few shuddering breaths as it’s obvious he’s close.

“Shit— Tooru, I’m gonna—“

“It’s ok I am too, come inside me Hajime, please, fill me up,” he asked with desperation. He pulled Iwaizumi down by the neck, resting their foreheads together. They were breathing into each other’s space, sloppily swapping saliva with whatever energy they could.

With one final long thrust, both men finished together, sweaty and sticky. Oikawa’s come covered both their stomachs while Iwaizumi’s filled Oikawa in a way that made him shudder from the size of the load. Hajime weakly pulled out, careful to make sure Oikawa’s used hole wasn’t stretched further.

“Wow that was—”

“Amazing?” Iwaizumi finished for him, lips brushing Oikawa’s hairline. The pair laughed weakly, breathless and wrecked in the most satisfying way.

Oikawa let himself sink into the warmth of Iwaizumi’s chest, his legs still tangled with his, his pulse finally calming as Iwa’s arms slid securely around his waist. Their skin was sticky, muscles sore, but neither moved to pull away.

“I was gonna say illegal in most countries,” Oikawa murmured, voice muffled against Iwaizumi’s collarbone. “But yeah. Amazing works.”

Iwaizumi snorted, fingers lazily tracing circles on Oikawa’s back. “Glad I lived up to the lace.”

“You did more than that,” Oikawa admitted, quieter now. “No one’s ever…” He trailed off, too prideful to finish it aloud.

But Iwaizumi seemed to understand. He tucked his chin over Oikawa’s head and tightened his hold just a little. “They were idiots, then.”

The silence after was comfortable, a gentle sort of stillness. Oikawa let out a sigh, the kind that only came when your body was spent and your heart felt… full.

“Do you usually do aftercare this well, or am I special?” he teased, but the question was layered.

Iwaizumi didn’t rise to the bait this time. He just kissed Oikawa’s temple and said, “You’re special. I don’t do this kind of night twice.”

Oikawa blinked. Then, with a smile that was far too soft for someone who’d spent the evening purring filth, he mumbled, “Good. I don’t share well.”

Neither did Iwaizumi.

And in the comfort of warm sheets and a chest that rose and fell beneath his cheek, Oikawa thought—maybe this wasn’t just a one-night thing.

Not if he had any say in it.