13a07s

[13a07s]

Buddy

(Wakatoshi Ushijima)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Gjnoel_]

Requested by: No One

Word Count: 3,773

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Asexuality

Open Relationship

Alcohol Mentioned

———————————————————————

     My foot slams against the wooden floor on repeat, the soft tap, tap, tap of my shoe drowned out by the sound of the volleyball being smacked back and forth. My eyes trail after the ball, watching one after the other being set just for Wakatoshi and the other spikers to slam it over the net.

     Miya is setting for my fiancé, which isn't usual and is showing. Ever since Kageyama was recruited for the national team, he's been setting for Toshi, but for some reason, he's been glued to the new guy that started this year.

     The new player is a short guy with wild hair. A bit of a tan pokes out from his clothing too, confusing me even more. I don't know any ginger that can truly tan, but I suppose the new kid on the block has bigger mysteries than that; like how I swear I've seen him before. He's probably an old rival, that's usually how I know the players that cycle in and out of Toshi's teams.

     A hand wraps around my thigh, forcefully stopping the bouncing of my leg. The annoyance of being touched dips the tip of my tongue in venom, ready to stab my thoughts into whoever thought they were allowed to touch me.

     "You have been rather stressed lately."

     The smooth and monotoned voice melts the anger from my tastebuds, a small smile sliding into place instead. A smile that widens when I tip my head backward to look up at Wakatoshi. His hair is plastered to his forehead, glued there by the sweat glistening over his skin. His eyes are squirted just a tad, barely showing the worry he's holding for me at the moment.

"Just work, Tosh," I murmur, lightly resting my hand on top of his.

My future husband falls into a squat, evening the distance between his frame and me perched in the bleacher seat I've been warming all afternoon. "It's not just work," he responds, his thumb rubbing small circles into my knee. "Your article got approved this morning. You forwarded the email."

My heart jumps a little at the knowledge that he did read the email I forwarded. I don't know why it still does or why I still doubt that he'd read it. Wakatoshi has been reading my travel articles since high school. Hell, he's been reading my acceptance and publishing notification emails for just as long. The first article I ever got published - a small thousand-word essay about my time in the Sumida Ward during one of his practice matches - hangs in his locker, torn from the first magazine my name has ever been printed in.

I shrug my shoulders, tearing my eyes away from him so they can skip around the gymnasium instead. Toshi is a loving man, the center of my world, my other half, my high school sweetheart, and my soulmate. He's everything I've ever known. Everything I've ever wanted... but there are still struggles in our relationship.

Wakatoshi is asexual. He has no sexual attraction, to anyone, including me. During the blooming period of our relationship, I was convinced he wanted nothing to do with me, that I wasn't pretty enough, that he didn't really love me, and that I had to be doing something wrong if he never seemed to want me in that way. I tried a million different things to get some reaction out of him but... nothing.

     Finally, after eight months of being together, I broke, having a complete meltdown and begging him to just tell me why he wouldn't touch me. Toshi was obviously confused, asking what the hell I was talking about. Overall, after a lengthy conversation and multiple days of research, we figured out it wasn't that he didn't find me attractive, he just doesn't feel sexual attraction.

     Since that discovery, everything has been smoother between us but occasionally it comes up again and causes some ruffling in our relationship. Toshi doesn't seem to care much, insisting he can and will fulfill my sexual needs if I want, but I feel bad asking him to do something he doesn't want. Not to mention, I can't enjoy my pleasure knowing it makes him uncomfortable.

     After about a year of us stumbling through this difference, struggling to find a balance, he recommended opening our relationship; one side of it, anyway. Again, Wakatoshi doesn't care. If anything, he encourages me to fulfill my sexual needs.

     However, there are a few rules. He wants to know who, but not what. Protection must be used; I double up just to be sure. If I do ever decide I want a child, I want it to be Wakatoshi's. A limit of one lover at a time, which is another thing I agree with. He plans a date the day after, to reconnect and to soothe any worries on either side. Lastly, have it pre-scheduled so we can plan accordingly and so he can expect when to have me back and when to give me space.

     My "buddy" - as Toshi calls it - was Tendo in high school but in recent years it's been Kageyama. Both people he knows, like he wants, and both people that don't have a want let alone the time for anything more than physical relationships. That keeps things as simple as can be for all parties involved.

     Despite my partner being understanding and supportive of me filling my needs, I still feel bad about it, like I'm cheating on him. Toshi views it differently, he insists that he knows I love him, that I'll always be his, and I'd never leave him over something as simple as sex. He also insists he knows I'd stop if he ever asked, which I would. If he ever even mumbled a no about anything - the partner, the day, the time, the situation altogether - I would stop, instantly, no questions asked.

     I love him, and want to spend eternity and whatever is after with him. It just infuriates me that I can't simply not want sex. But again, Wakatoshi says that it's a normal human need and one he doesn't expect me to stop wanting, let alone give up. Still, with my lack of asking him for assistance and my hesitation to use our open agreement, it's not uncommon that I leave my needs ignored and snuffed out long enough that they claw at me to finally indulge. I wish I could simply not want sex. It would make my life so much easier.

"I can't fix an issue I'm not aware of," he murmurs, the circles on my knee getting a little rougher as his worry grows.

"You couldn't help even if I told you what it was," I softly tease, letting my fingers skip up his arm, enjoying the way his muscles tighten under my touch.

Wakatoshi stays silent for a few moments, eyebrows scrunched together as he thinks over what I said. "Oh," he finally grumbles, the rhythm of his thumb evening out now that he's solved the mystery. "Perhaps you should have a sleepover with your buddy, then."

     "Tosh - "

     "He seems to be stressed too. He's been... angrier since Hinata's return to Japan," he rambles, climbing to his full height as he nods in agreement with himself. "Besides, it's been a few months since you've spent any time with your buddy."

"Wakato - "

"I shall go see if Kageyama's night is free," he cuts me off again, already halfway across the gym by the time I shoot out of my seat.

     By the time I catch up to him, he's already discussing nightly plans with the setter. Embarrassment etches into my skin, even more so when Kageyama's eyes snap toward me. "Hinata is coming over for a bit but he should be gone by five. After that, I don't have anything planned."

     Toshi hums, nodding in agreement again. "You shall go over at five and I will see you at nine tomorrow. Bring her to the gym for our workout session, yes?"

     "Sure," he mutters, barely sparing me another glance. He's always very disconnected, which is another reason why he works perfectly for our situation. "See you at five, Ushi-Chan," a small smile graces his lips with the reverse greeting like it always does. Over the years, I've started to believe Kageyama gets off on the idea of Wakatoshi being my partner in every way but the ways he provides me. Whether he does or not wouldn't make much of a difference though, I suppose.

     "Why'd you do that?" I hiss the question once my "buddy" is out of earshot, leaving me and Toshi alone on the edge of the gym. "You didn't have to get involved."

"Of course, I did."

"The hell do you mean 'of course you did'?"

He lets out a deep breath, moving slowly as he rests his hands on my arms, letting them slide up and down the length of my biceps. "My Darling," he whispers, leaning down so the words can caress my face. "My future wife," the three words make my heart skip, partly because of the sentiment, but also because of the slight weaver of Toshi's voice. "If I hadn't set you time with your Buddy, you would have let your frustration consume you until you snapped. I don't rather enjoy when you snap."

     A defeated sigh spills from my lips, my shoulders dropping some of their tension. Toshi is right, as usual. I would have let my needs feaster until I was an utter bitch.

     He bends down, ghosting his lips against mine before he snaps back into his straight posture, his touches completely gone from me. "I will ask for a ride from one of my fellow members. Go home and prepare for your evening."

Just like that, the soft moment is gone as soon as it's here, like most things with my life partner. Wakatoshi is sweet in his own way, but his gentle words and soft touches only happen occasionally. I don't mind, it just makes them that more special.

I'm still riding the high of his affection as I slip into the locker room, bee-lining for locker 214; our anniversary, and another omen that Toshi can be sweet on occasion. The dial turns easily, writing out my birthday before the lock pops and giving me access to the keys he locked away before practice.

————————————

The click, click, click of my heel is muffled by the material making up the floor of Toshi's car, the soft fabric eating most of the sound. His hand is rested on my leg, cupping a good chuck of the fat, and yet still large enough to dip down and rub soothing circles on my inner thigh. I know why he's doing it; because the small touch sends crackles of arousal straight to my center.

A part of me wants to tell him to stop, but I know I'll be thinking about this minimal moment tonight. Another part of me knows he's doing it to comfort me as well, his way of reminding me that he's fine with this, that he doesn't care that he's dropping me off at another man's house, that Toshi couldn't be worried less about me getting dicked down by our country's national setter if he tried.

"I love you," I whisper into the silence, the music mute just the way he likes it.

     "I love you too," he replies, barely waiting for the words to be out of my mouth before he responds. "You look beautiful, tonight," Toshi adds, an awkward cough following the compliment. No matter how long we're together, I don't think he'll ever get used to touching me or using sweet words to coo at me.

"Thank you."

The car falls silent again after my gratitude is spoken, nothing but the sound of the engine fills the space. I choose to fill the time looking out the window, watching the scenery speed by as Toshi drives the woven path to my "Buddy's" house.

"This is good," Wakatoshi voices once he turns onto Kageyama's street, his apartment complex almost marking the halfway point of the houses clustered together. "You will feel better."

"I guess," I murmur, wrapping my fingers around the hand that's taken home on my thigh.

"I know," He responds, voice matter-of-fact. His stare settles on me when he has the car parked, the motor still purring its calming rhythm. "Your needs are important," Toshi reiterates for the thousandth time today, gently patting my leg, my hand still tied around his.

"I know."

"Good." It's a simple word, a small word even, but I can see the way it notes his stress melting off his shoulders.

Wakatoshi releases his hold on me, popping my seatbelt from its buckle and carefully sliding it back into its spot. He stays hovering over me, his focus on opening my door from the inside so I don't have to. Words might not be a way my partner shows his affection, but acts of service sure are.

"I'll see you tomorrow. At nine," he reminds me, sliding his focus back to me, the door hanging open.

"Tomorrow, at nine," I echo, letting my eyes melt over his features. "Then we're going to lunch."

Toshi hums in agreement, tilting his head so he can slide his lips against mine. "I love you," he whispers before pulling away, and settling back into his seat.

"I love you too," I respond, pecking his cheek once more before climbing out of the car, remembering to grab my overnight bag and the paper-bagged bottle of wine I brought for Kageyama and me to enjoy.

Some of my nerves melt as I walk away from the car, waving the whole way up the sidewalk, only stopping when I slide through the entrance doors. The usual assistant greets me, the ever-present boredom in his voice as he welcomes me.

I ignore the greeting, sliding past him to situate myself in the elevator. The moment in the tin box is more annoying than nerve-racking. Considering how much Toshi makes, Tobio can afford an apartment complex that plays something other than America's Pina Colada song.

     The ding of arrival is very much welcomed, especially since the song has already planted itself into my mind and worked its way into my soft humming.

     "Yes, I like Pina Coladas," I mutter to myself, letting my eyes trail over the golden numbers of each small home. "And getting caught in the rain," I continue to sing to myself, stopping in front of the shiny two hundred and fourteen stamped into Tobio's door.

My knocking echoes in the hallway, quickly followed by tussling behind the closed door. Murmurs and movement continue to leak through, testing my patience as I wait on the setter. "Tobio! I'm here!" I call, trying another knock on the wood.

"Kageyama didn't tell me he invited more guests!" A chirpy voice greets me, paired with a blinding smile and the sound of the door handle slamming against the wall.

"Hinata," Tobio hisses, his cheeks dusted in embarrassment. The color only darkens as his eyes fall over me, drinking in every inch of the tight cocktail dress I slide into for our night together. "I told you to leave ten minutes ago. You need to go."

I let my attention fall a tad, glancing at the new spiker on Toshi's team. His head is tilted, confusion sprinkled in his continually moving eyes. They flicker between me and trying to peak at his friend over his shoulder.

"Do... do you have a date tonight, Kageyama?"

"No!" My "buddy" snaps, huffing out his cheeks as his frustration continues to build. "You need to leave."

"Why?" Hinata asks, pulling his focus off me to place it on his friend instead. "So you can commit adultery? That's a new low, even for your dumbass."

"It's not like that - "

"Are you two going to continue bickering?" I butt in, toying with the foil-like seal on the bottle I'm holding. "If so I'm more than happy to let the lovely couple keep at it and I'll just go home and enjoy myself."

The redhead snaps back towards me, his eyes slit but still drowning in curiosity. "Aren't you with Ushijima? I see you at all our practices and I saw him kiss you today."

     My shoulders jump up before dropping again, my focus on picking at the seal I've been messing with. "He knows I'm here. Last time I checked, there's no harm in having buddies."

     Silence falls between the three of us, thick with nerves, curiosity, and judgment. When it's finally broken, it's the redhead that snaps it. "Does Ushijima know what you're wearing to hang out with your buddy?"

     "Considering he dropped me off, I'm going to go with yes."

     "Personally - " the spiked starts, continuing to test my already shot patience. " - I wouldn't let my girlfriend hang out with her friends dressed like that."

     "Personally," I mock, tearing my attention away from the wine to let my glare rest on the wing spiker. "My Toshi is built like a god damn grizzly bear so he doesn't need to worry about what weasel ass setters or mice-sized players think of me, let alone what they think concerning what I wear." My anger continues to simmer as I look down my nose at the new kid on the block.

     I get the sense he's not going to last long if he keeps pissing off the players' partners. Though, maybe I'm the only one he's managed to anger. It's not necessarily a bad thing he's doing either, just an uninformed jumped opinion.

      His face shifts, a string of emotions from hurt to anger washing through his features as he tries piecing together a comeback, one that doesn't come courtesy of Tobio.

     "Hinata... just... leave," the setter pushes, letting his palms rub at his eye sockets.

     "But she's - "

     "Leave!" Tobio snaps, this Hinata now receiving glares from both of us. "I asked you to leave earlier, you didn't. Instead, you're here ruining the rest of my evening. Go home."

I'm starting to think this Buddy Situation is more hassle than it's worth. "You're going to owe me a huge apology," I whisper to the setter as I let myself slide into the room.

     "I can think of an apology or two. Would you prefer to receive it from my hands or mouth?" He asks, causing the simmer of arousal in me to speed through my veins faster. "Maybe you'd prefer both?"

     "Both would make a perfect apology."

————————————

My head pounds harder because of the bright lights of the gym, but my pain is put on the back burner. My feet putter against the floors as I pick up my pace, racing my way to my Toshi.

Tobio trudges along after me, easily keeping pace with my hurried steps. He relaxed after his friend left and we started our invite-only party, but all that chilliness seemed to have melted at the entrance. Wakatoshi wasn't kidding when he said my lover has been strung tight because of the new guy.

"Toshi!" I yelp, slamming the door open to the private room they've rented out to use during the on-season.

"Hello," his monotone voice responds, making my heart flutter wild enough to make me forget about my hangover. However, the sight of his arms covered in a thin layer of sweat and contorting as he continued his bicep curls might aid in that a bit. "How was your evening?""

"Great," I murmur, thanking the gods above that I hadn't slid my sunglasses off yet. I know Toshi doesn't mind me ogling him, but it would be a bit embarrassing doing it in front of his whole team. "How was yours?"

"It was fine," he says, setting the weight down on the rubber mat before standing up from the bench. My eyes trail laps up and down my fiancé as he makes his way to me, each step making my skin tingle more. "I am excited for our lunch," Toshi tells me once he's settled in front of me.

"Me too," I hum, leaning into the hand he settles against my cheek. "I miss your calmness."

"Was your evening not calming?" His eyes are squinted just a tad, forever his subtle sign of worry for me.

"It was, it just started off rough."

"How so?"

"I'll tell you over lunch," I promise, standing on my tippy toes so I can brush a soft kiss against Toshi's lips.

     He huffs when we part, his minty breath dusting across my face. "I know you missed me, I missed you as well, but kisses are a private matter, Darling."

     "You didn't think that yesterday when you kissed me in the gym."

     "That was barely a kiss," Wakatoshi softly argues, sliding his hand off my cheek. It slides down, caressing my neck before his fingers focus on gently twirling my hair. "We can kiss all you want once we get home."

     "I want to kiss now," I pout, turning my head a bit so I can brush kisses against his wrist.

     Another sigh spills from him, this one from the lack of him being able to give me what I want. I know that's what the sigh is for, the olive shade of his eyes melting over me being more than enough proof. "Darling - "

     "Ushijima!" My future husband is cut off by the devil himself, sporting his bright red hair and his slowly fading tan. I swear, his ears must have been ringing a moment ago. "Can you spare me a second... alone?" The kid quickly adds, beelining his way toward us.

     "Tosh, meet my rough start," I grumble, rolling my eyes and plopping one last kiss on his wrist before pulling away from him. My "buddy" is going to owe me another fat apology because of this.

     Toshi seems a bit confused as I pull away, glancing between the ginger and me as I wander off to bother the other players. Confusion that's not going to last long, especially with how quickly Hinata pounces on the ability to "tattle" on me.

     This is another reoccurring problem in our relationship, people believing they've caught me cheating. Them running to tell Wakatoshi just to hear that he knows, that he encourages it, that he's happy my needs are taken care of. If Hinata keeps poking his nose in my business, I'll have to choose another buddy. Who might the next one be?

[13a07s]

I Can, So I Will

(Tobio Kageyama)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Evil-usagi]

Requested by: Absolutely No One

Word Count: 4,569

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Borderline Sibling Incest (Brother X Sister)

Unhealthy Co-Dependent Relationship

Man Handling

Co-Sleeping

Anger Issues

"Dumbie"

———————————————————————

     "I - ah... I..."

My voice stumbles, the words caught in my throat, and the gears of my mind suddenly un-oiled. My hand jumps up, cupping the back of my neck that's somehow both covered in goosebumps and feeling like holes of flames are being burnt through it.

I don't have to glance over my shoulder to know it's my brother, the waves of his anger filling the classroom is enough to tell me that. Still, I peek at the door, stealing a glance at him. I instantly regret the decision, his storm cloud of a mood only intensifying now that he knows I'm aware of him.

Tobio's hands are balled at his sides, his fingers wrapped tight enough that his knuckles are going pale. His jaw is set too. I know if I was standing next to him, I would be able to hear the ticking of his bones pressing too tightly. His eyes are slit as he glares in my direction, the ice of his irises aimed at the boy standing in front of me, asking me to sit with him at lunch. His head is tilted down a bit, mostly because of the height difference between him and my classmate. The slight change in his posture flutters his bangs over his eyes, cutting off small slivers of his glare.

The fear of my brother snapping, of picking another fight during the first week of school, twirls its way around my tailbone and makes quick work wrapping further and further up my spine.

"I promised my brother I would eat with him," I whisper, my fingers jittery with the need to soothe Tobi's anger.

He's been wound tight since Club Applications yesterday. He's having issues with the volleyball team, something about upsetting the Vice President and then the Captain threatening to bench him as a setter. I haven't had a moment to glance through the team handbook to figure out if the team Captain can do that, so I'm sure it's been eating at him all day.

     "So? I don't think it'll kill him if you skip out on lunch," the boy answers, his voice light with amusement at my nerves.

     No, but it might kill you.

     The thought makes my nerves bounce higher, my fingertips burning the longer I stand here instead of soothing Tobio.

     This is how it's been for as long as I can remember; Tobi lacks control of his anger and I flutter around him to help rein it back in. Usually, volleyball is his trigger, but I've always been a close second to his mood swings.

     Grandma always says that it's a "twin thing". She has a twin, a younger brother - by two minutes, just like Tobio and me. Just like my brother, she is super protective of her sibling too, especially after their Father died. I guess that's her way of saying Grandpa's death a couple months ago is why he's been so attached.

     I don't think that's why Tobi has been acting up. He's always been a little weird. Never liked anyone, especially boys, near me. Always antsy and upset when we're apart for too long. Being a little too rough with me when I can't calm his temper. Snapping at Miwa when she makes suggestions or comments about me - or us - that he doesn't agree with.

     A few big fights blew up between them once we graduated middle school. Miwa had quite a few suggestions, one of which was me applying to a school other than Karasuno. The only plus side of that argument was that Tobio was so relieved that we'd be going to the same school that at the time he wasn't upset about us being in different classes. I don't think that gratefulness has stretched into today.

     "I really should have lunch with him," I murmur, glancing over my shoulder again. The heat of anxiety grows when Tobi starts moving forward, his strides long and fast as he storms across the room.

     "Come on, Cutie," the boy pushes, oblivious to the fight brewing because of him.

     "She said no," Tobio's voice booms, my body jerking from the volume and closeness of it. My classmate jumps too, his neck craning as he looks up to meet my brother's eyes, uneasiness flickering through his features.

     "Sorry."

     The word is barely out before I'm being dragged away. Tobi grips the collar of my school shirt, wrinkling the new material that just got in last night, using his hold to yank me away from my classmate. My back slams into his chest, my feet not given the grace of time to steady before I'm being turned toward the door.

"Tobi?" I call, trying to keep my voice soft, airy, and calming. He ignores me, his hand falling from my collar to my hip as he continues shoving me forward, herding me out of the room. "Tobio?" I try again once we're in the hallway buzzing with chatter and students rushing around.

"You're a moron," he grumbles, his fingers tightening on the waistband of my skirt, balling it in his fist to strengthen his hold.

"You're a moron," I repeat, a slow simmer of my own anger forming. I didn't do anything, so why am I being called a moron? It's not like I was trying to ditch lunch with him. I was doing the exact opposite, actually. Tobio grumbles, mumbling curses under his breath that I can't fully hear, let alone care to hear. I didn't do anything.

     Soon, even his whispers end, leaving silence between us as he leads me through the winding hallways of our new school. My eyes trail the wall, ghosting over the large windows that are exposing snips of nature just out of reach. My fingers slide against the smooth paint of the wall, the ledge of the windows chilled with the hint of lingering spring weather. It would be a pretty memory if it wasn't for the teasing snap of Tob's anger, the roof threatening to give out over the smallest of issues.

     My brother drops his hold on me, the sudden lost weight snapping me out of my thoughts and lightly dusted daydreams. Automatically, my head tilts backward, looking at him for directions on his wants.

     The lost weight isn't gone for long, his hand knotting in mine as he takes the lead. My fingers easily rest between his, chunkier than Tobi's thin digits, but smaller in length. He had a growth spurt over the summer, shooting up like a weed in the height department. Grandma insists he'll have another one, that in the future he'll inherit Grandpa's broad shoulders. Seeing how stick-like his thinness is, I doubt that'll happen.

     The squeaking of hinges pulls my attention away from our laced fingers, my eyes settling on the off-white door my brother is shoving open. I'm tugged forward, just as tough as before, so Tob can filter us out of the school.

     My shoes squeal against the laminate floor, my body forced off center as I'm situated against his side. He settles his arm over my shoulders, my hair caught between his elbow and my back. I grip the back of his school uniform as I'm continually led forward, balling the material to help steady myself. "Tobio," I hiss, trying to rip apart the hold he still has on my hand.

     "Dumbie," he murmurs, his fingers tightening around mine, our fingertips dancing across my chest because of our little war.

     "You can't keep manhandling me," I snap, giving up on separating our hands so I can focus on stabbing my finger into his spine.

     "I can, so I will."

     The answer is simple, simply stroking the flames of my annoyance with him.

     "The least you can do is give me some space."

     "Why would I do that?"

     My head jerks to the side, glaring at his profile. His jaw has loosened and most of the anger has melted off his face, leaving his usual nonchalant expression. His eyes are focused forward, occasionally glancing around us before focusing ahead again. Occasionally, the sun hits his irises just right, turning the usual dark color into a sky-worthy blue. The natural light affects his hair too, turning it into an almost flowing black, reminding me of the ink Grandpa would use with his feather pens.

     In certain situations, like when the sun hits just right or Tobio is calm enough or while he's focused on a game, I can understand why my friends find him attractive. My brother certainly isn't an ugly man. He's handsome like our Father is and like Grandpa was.

     His eyes slowly fall to land on my face, curiosity hinting at the edges of their coloring. "Why would I do that?" He repeats, forcing our hands up long enough to caress my jaw before he lets them fall again, resting against my chest like before.

     "We look weird," I answer, snapping my eyes away from him. I'm not sure why I feel embarrassed by being caught looking at him. Tobi stares at me all the time. Grandpa used to say the only time he wasn't looking at me was when he was staring at a volleyball.

     "I don't think we do."

     "I do."

     "How do we look weird?"

     I shrug, finally taking the time to look around us. Cement slabs are under our feet and a ceiling is above us, held up by metal poles with material between them. Every few steps the half-walls aren't in place, forming an opening in the man-made path. "This is how couples walk together," I barely audit the words, more embarrassment tingling across my skin at the realization.

     Tob stays silent for a handful of steps, my skin growing warmer with every passing second. "So?" He finally asks, stopping our footsteps next to a pair of vending machines at the edge of the covered path. The gap between the path isn't large, about three or four steps before it's covered and framed again, only stopping when it clashes with what I assume is a gym. The volleyball gym, probably.

     "So, it's weird."

     "I don't think it's weird."

     "You don't hold Miwa like this when you walk with her," I point out, taking a step away from my brother when he lets go of me.

     "I don't like Miwa. She's a bitch."

     I shake my head at Tobio's bluntness, crossing my arms over my chest to further show my unhappiness. Would it kill them to get along? "She's not a bitch."

     "Ya, she is," he counters, glancing at me before focusing on pulling the cash out of his wallet.

     "Why is she a bitch?"

     "Because she didn't want us to go to school together." His answer is paired with the buzz of the machine taking his dollar, Tob straightening his posture once the money is fed through.

     "You already got over that," I point out, eyeing the options in the vending machine before focusing on the machine next to it. "If you're still mad at her, it's about something else."

     Beeps fill the silence between us as he chooses a few drinks; three milks - one of which is strawberry, for me. I know it's for me, Tobio insists there's too much sugar in it. He stays silent as he slides to the next machine, feeding more money into it before picking out yogurt for himself and a tray of rainbow sushi for me.

     Finally, he turns towards me, holding out my food as he answers. "Miwa told Grandma that she thinks we're too old to share a bed anymore. She wants us to try and break our co-sleeping alone before she gets involved."

     My weight shifts between my feet as my eyes flicker between Tobi's face and the food he's still holding. It makes me anxious, thinking about sleeping alone, but we are in high school now. Most of my friends don't even share rooms with their siblings anymore, let alone beds. "It's just the bed, right? We'll still be in the same room so it won't really be that different."

     Tob shrugs, glancing around the space before giving his full attention back to me. "She recommends that one of us move into the guest room. She says we 'need our own space to grow' or whatever."

     My stomach drops, nausea settling in the back of my throat, egged on by my anxiety. It was nerving enough without the added bonus of him being on the other side of the house. "What does Grandma say?"

     "She told Miwa to give us some time. Said 'So many changes all at once wouldn't be good' or something like that. She also told her that she shared a bed with her brother until he left for college, after that Miwa started yelling so I left."

     Grandma has always been a little weird, the same way Tobio is. Anytime her brother has come over since Grandpa died, she gets snippy with me, telling me to cover up and that I'm coming off as flirty, which she 'doesn't appreciate'. Our Uncle always pats her hand and promises that I'm not stealing his attention so she'll calm down.

     Now that I think about it, she and Tob act a lot alike. I guess that's why he's always been our grandparents' favorite. That's alright because I'm both my brother's and my sister's favorite. I'll never say it because it would hurt Miwa's feelings, but my brother is my favorite too.

     "Stop worrying, Dumbie. I'm never leaving you."

     "Not even when your volleyball career takes off?" I tease, a bit of a giggle underlining my question.

     Tobio shrugs, his eyes off me long enough to thread his straw through the milk carton. "I'll take you with me."

     "You can't do that."

     His head snaps up, his expression tugged tight with anger, and possibly a hint of worry, as he glares at me. "I can, so I will."

———————————

My heart flutters with nerves as I take slow steps toward the open gym doors. Tobio texted me about ten minutes ago, asking me to come by the gym to see him. I rarely get to see him practice with his team and there's a reason for that.

     The one - and only - time he's ever stepped to Iwaizumi-Senpai was toward the middle of our first year. The Vice Captain gave me a batch of tamales his Mom made for the team, insisting I was as much a part of the team as my brother. Tobi did not like that. He lost his cap, screaming at his teammate that he was flirting with me and that it was gross he was into a girl 'so much younger than him'. He even tried to smack the older boy, pulling a play out of Oikawa-Senpai's book.

     It goes without saying that neither the Coach nor the team was too happy about that. Since then I've never been to a private practice or a practice match. The coaches were even hesitant about me going to the games. So, I'm a bit nervous about showing up, but when Tobio calls, I come, just like he would in my position.

     My heart thumps in my ears as I climb up the front steps of the gym, the beat seeming to echo louder with each step I take. I can see my fingers shake as I lift my hand, grabbing the open door as I poke my head into the room.

     It looks like every other gymnasium I've seen. Waxy wood floors with a white net in the middle of the room and a few loose volleyballs. There's a stage at the front of the room and second-floor hallways, a lot smaller than we had at our middle school. I'm a bit surprised to see no seating either, but Karasuno is in a bit of a different tax bracket. I can still hear Dad's grainy voice over the phone, insisting I convince my brother to pick a different school simply because 'we can afford a higher tuition'.

     My eyes flicker around the room, taking in the different players. The gym isn't the only thing that's a lot smaller; the team is too. My attention instantly snags on my brother, some of the anxiety smoothing out at just the sight of him.

     A shorter boy stands next to him, a fire-red mess of hair sticking out every which way as he babbles on and on. I can tell Tob is slowly getting more pissed with every word. There's a slightly taller boy on his other side, a sharp grin and bold head making up his outer expression. He looks scary like he'll bite my head off just for being here.

     My attention skips around the room, taking in the seven or so other boys. A girl is hanging around too, a clipboard pressed to her chest as she talks to a boy with silver hair, a single strand standing on end. He's cute with his smile stretching across his pink-dusted cheeks. He's built like Tobio is; sleek shaped, slim waist, long and slender fingers, with the same willowy but strong arms. If I had to guess, I'd peg him as a setter.

     Embarrassment tickles my skin as I pull my eyes away from the boy. I've always been fond of setters, courtesy of Grandpa and Tob. First Oikawa-Senpai, then the pretty second-year setter that took his spot for the first few months he was gone, the spot he held until my brother gained it. Not that I'd ever tell anyone that. I can't even imagine the fit my brother would throw if he knew I found his competition interesting.

     "Tobio," I finally call, letting my eyes roll back to the position he's holding in the gym.

     Instantly his head snaps in my direction, the annoyance draining from his face. "Hey Dumbie," he coos, his tone still monotone but gentler than usual. It makes my heart flutter for a reason other than my anxiety. His vocal level is usually the easiest way to tell what kind of mood he's in and right now, my brother is overly happy, a sign of a successful game.

     "Tobi," I call again, straightening so I'm leaning against the door frame instead of hiding behind it.

     The tingling on my skin heightens as he stalks over, his steps quick and wide as he crosses the gym. I've missed him so much today.

     The house is always empty, but it was extra empty without him around to fill it with the thump, thump, thump, of his volleyball. I hate being in that big house alone. Miwa is rarely around, Mom and Dad are barely in the country; let alone home, and Grandma is usually out and about 'living up retirement'. So, that usually leaves just the two of us to fill the obnoxiously large space, but today it was just me.

     "Hi," he mutters, his steps stuttering when he ends up in front of me. "Hello," Tob repeats, a hand sliding across my waist a few times before settling in place. "I missed you," he whispers, leaning down to murmur the words directly in my ear.

     "Oh," I breathe out, my hands jumping from their place on the door to settle on his shoulders instead. His lips dance against my jawline, slowly climbing up before melting into my cheek, just to dance over my temple.

     My anxiety grows with every butterflied touch, my worries circling around what his teammates can see and what they'll think. Kindaichi - Tob's old Ace - would always say it was weird how my brother would act around me. The first time he saw him kiss up on me, he said he'd never imagined doing the same to his younger brother. Is it really that weird?

     "You're worried," Tobio mumbles, his kisses brushing their way down the bridge of my nose.

     I let my hands slip off his shoulders, settling on his chest so I can ball up the material of his t-shirt. "You probably shouldn't kiss me like this, especially around other people. They find it weird," I confess, Kindaichi's words ringing in my ears.

     "So? I can kiss you like this, so I will kiss you like this."

     "You always say that," I grumble, rolling my eyes even if Tobio's wondering kisses - which are now stumbling over my eyelids - make it hard to do.

     "I always say what?"

     "You can, so you will." He hums, his hand busy rubbing circles against my side now that he's bored of our conversation. "How was your match?" I ask, releasing his shirt and smoothing it out, my palms spilling across his chest.

     "It was fine."

     "Just fine?"

     "I was distracted," Tobi slowly answers, finally inching his face away from me, but not before brushing a final one to the corner of my mouth.

     "Distracted?" I push, pulling my hands off his chest.

     Tobio doesn't take the distance well, snatching my hand and resting it against his chest again, using his free hand to keep it in place. "I don't like you being in that empty house." His words are strained and quiet, like saying them makes Grandpa's death more real than it was a moment ago.

     I keep my eyes glued to my fingers, gently tapping my nails against his chest. Tob painted them last night for me; they're black and still messy from his lack of experience but he wanted to learn how to do it, something he can't do without practice. I focus on tapping the beat of one of my favorite songs, not wanting to tip his mood one way or another by looking at him trying to collect and organize his emotions.

     "I won my match," he tells me, his fingers tightening around mine as his head tumbles to my shoulder.

     "So you get to play as a setter?" I ask, already knowing the answer, but I need the distraction. I need our conversation to ignore the way my blood pricks with every breath of his that slides against my throat. I need it to ignore the way the skin hidden under my shirt tingles with every circle he paints against it. I need it to pretend I'm imagining Tobio's fingers lagging on the hem of my shirt.

     I don't know what to do to ease my nerves, so I let my empty hand rest on his head, my fingers toying with the strands of his hair to work out the knots it's gained throughout the day.

     "Ya," he exhales, the extra puff of air making my hand jerk, accidentally tugging on his hair. The mistake makes him inhale sharply, the opposite of my current issue somehow affecting me the same way. "What the hell, Dumbie?" He hisses, ripping his head off my shoulder. The hand that was on my waist jumps away from me too, quickly returning to yank my fingers out of his hair.

My mouth falls open, an apology on the tip of my tongue. One that I don't manage to get out in time.

"Your Majesty," a voice booms from behind Tobio, a hint of amusement edging the words. "Are you going to be a well-mannered king and stop ignoring your team or continue to drool over your girlfriend?"

A hint of excitement flickers across my brother's face, quickly drowned out by his annoyance. Tobi drops his hold on me as he turns around, a twinkle of disappointment mixing with the disgust that formed in my stomach from being called his girlfriend. His team just got him all morning, can't I have him for a few minutes?

     "Do you always have something smart to say?" Tob asks the interrupter, annoyance leaking from him from the short exchange.

     I tilt my head, my hands holding onto the sides of my brother's t-shirt as I take a peek around him. A boy even taller than Tob is staring at us, with curious eyes and a wicked grin on his face. His attention occasionally flickers to me before returning to my brother, almost eagerly. "Well, that's what happens when you have more than one brain cell, Your Majesty, not that you would know." The boy's eyes fall again, this time holding their placement on me.

Tobio notices the switched attention, one of his hands clamping around my wrist, prepared to drag me away or maybe he's finally taking my advice and learning to ground himself when he's angry. "You're an ass, Tsukishima."

     "And you - "

     "- Have a girlfriend?" Wild-child buts in, the odds and ends of his hair bouncing just as much as the rest of him. My head tilts more as I look him over, the ball of sunshine seeming oddly familiar, I just can't place why.

The taller boy lets out a huffed laugh, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at us down the slip of his nose. "I doubt that. I couldn't imagine a corpse wanting the King of the Court, let alone an actual girl."

"Yes," Tobio snaps, the word seeming foreign in his mouth. "She is my girlfriend."

"What?!" Both Sunshine and the Instigator yelp, the former bouncing in his spot as my head snaps toward my brother quick enough that I swear I can feel the whiplash.

"Tob," I hiss, keeping my voice low in an attempt at a bit of privacy. "You can't say stuff like that just because you're angry at your teammate."

His head tips down, meeting me in the weird angle I have it in from glancing around his lengthy frame. "Dumbie," he murmurs, his lashes fluttering in anxious bats. "I can, so I will... I did."

"Tobio - "

I'm cut off, my brother tugging on my arm to pull me closer to himself, the yank destroying the distance between us. Everything freezes because of the feeling of his lips against mine, the roughness of his chapped skin against the smooth, cherry chapstick of mine.

The moment only lasts a beat or two, nothing more than a quick peck before Tobi pulls away from me, his fingers tighter around my wrist as he backs away. Instantly, alarm bells scream in my head, my mind shorting as I try to make sense of what just happened.

Voices chit-chat around me, none of the words fully processing from my lack of attention. The full of my focus is on the moment, even as I turn my head to look up at him. A small smile rests on the corners of his mouth, barely noticeable if you don't know Tob as well as I do. The only thing keeping me grounded is the soft circles he's rubbing against my wrist, sliding back and forth over the veins braided under my skin.

"Tobi?" I whisper, tugging on the material still stuck in my fists. I wait a moment, being ignored as he focuses on his teammates. "Tob?" I call again, my voice louder and my tug harder this time.

"Shush, Dumbie."

"We need to talk, now."

Annoyance flickers through his face, his eyes snapping closed as he takes a slow, calming breath. When his eyes flicker open, they instantly drop down to me, light-colored and soft as they melt over me. "We'll talk later."

"You can't just dismiss me like that!"

"I can, so I will."

[13a07s]

Spoiled #1

(Shoyo Hinata)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to oretsuu]

Requested by: Idfk... Jack Frost, maybe?

Word Count: 4,096

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Baby Doll, Brat

Rich Girl/Poor Boy Trope

Part Two to Come

I feel like I wrote Hinata so out of character but idk if I actually did or if it's just self-doubt so beware

———————————————————————

My brother's voice wraps around the gym, easily leaking out the creaked doors I'm heading towards to paint the hallway in his words as well. "In moments of temptation, you should consider not what you may be offered, but instead what you may lose," Wakatoshi babbles, making me shake my head.

He has a habit of talking in some old-fashioned curtsey way, his words usually coming out in tongues when he's talking about something he's passionate about. Most of the time it means he's talking about volleyball, or occasionally, Tendo.

"The man that gives into temptation will lose his focus, his obedience, and because of that, shall lose the trust his team places on him. Perhaps he may not lose that trust, but that is worse than the former." Wakatoshi's arms are in front of him, sitting in the air like a preacher giving a sermon.

Three boys from the team visiting our school for a practice match are standing in front of him. The mean mugged, buzzed-cut boy looks like he's in Lala land, staring off to Wakatoshi's side, watching Tendo wrap his fingers. The boy with spiked hair and a blonde streak looks amazed at my brother, barely holding back his laughter. The last boy, with flames for hair, is looking up, listening but very confused about the lecture he's getting.

I slowly slide into the gym, making sure to be quiet as I slip in and start walking across the room. Wakatoshi's voice becomes background noise as I hyper-focus on being silent. Despite my chance at anonymity, Tendo spots me, one of his eyebrows shooting up as a smile crawls onto his face. I throw a finger against my lips, silently shushing him, a command he obeys.

Blonde Streak catches wind of me too, poking his head around Wakatoshi to see what has the Guess Monster grinning. When he catches sight of me, his eyes start to flicker around, making a sharp triangle as they jerk between me, my brother, and my brother's best friend.

When I'm two or three feet away, I settle into the spot I'm holding, bending my knees to prepare for a swift takedown. My body buzzes in anticipation, excited for this to finally be the time I manage to scare Wakatoshi. "I got you!" I shriek, lunging forward. I wrap my arms around his waist, slamming my whole body weight into his back.

He inches forward, taking a small step to balance himself. Attempt two hundred and fifty-three: Failure. Mission 'Scare Wakatoshi': Slowly growing into a dying cause.

"Hello, Baby Doll," Wakatoshi greets, his voice still even but lacking the lecturing tone he was using a few moments again. His hand latches onto my wrist, yanking on me until I'm standing in front of him instead of clinging to his back. "Did you harm yourself?" I'm asked as he pats me down, searching for any possible injuries.

"No, I'm fine."

Wakatoshi's hands settle under my arms, taking an iron grip on me before I'm lifted off the floor and dangled in the air. He holds me high enough that we're at eye level with each other. "It is dangerous for you to keep doing things such as that. Imagine if I had not known it was you. You could have been hurt. Or worse, I could have made you cry. Do not do such a thing again, alright?"

     "I'm going to do it again," I answer honestly, getting a long, disapproving sigh from my brother.

     He carefully sets me back on my feet before fixating on my uniform. Wakatoshi straightens my bow tie, toying with the loops of it before his next victim becomes my skirt. He gently smoothes it out, picking off a few stray things of lint left over from cleaning the classrooms. When he's satisfied, he focuses on my jacket, fuzzing with the buttons and making sure the lines of it are crisp. "Your shirt is wrinkled," he points out, now obsessing with my dress shirt. "And half untucked. Come here let me tuck it in for you."

     "No," I mutter, pulling away from him, and shifting closer to his friend. "Classes are done for the week so it doesn't have to be picture perfect anymore," I point out, shrugging off my jacket and hanging it on Tendo's arm that's waiting, bent and hanging to take it from me.

     "You look ridiculous in an untidy uniform. Let me fix it," Wakatoshi grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyebrows push together as I loosen my bow tie, letting it hang further down my neck. "Wearing your uniform in such a way makes you look mindless."

     "Oh well," I murmur, shaking my hair loose from the updo it's been in all day. "Hey, 'Toshi?" I whisper, spraying a sheepish smile on my face and tipping my head to the side.

     "No," he answers before I can even get the question out. His posture tights up too, like it'll help him stay headstrong about denying whatever I'm going to ask.

     "Some of the girls are thinking about going out this weekend," I tell him anyway, softening my eyes so they'll blow out and become rounder. I blink them slower too, making sure my lashes look more dramatic. "I was wondering if I could go with, please?"

     "I have a practice game on Sunday and a meeting with a scout tomorrow. I cannot escort you. No."

     My smile melts off my face, a pout quickly replacing it. For extra effect, I will some crocodile tears, just enough to make my eyes glossy. "Pretty please? I don't even need an escort. Even if you are set on me having one, I'm sure Tendo wouldn't mind escorting me on Saturday, right, Chibi-Chan?" I ask, turning my fit toward him.

     Tendo's eyes are glued to the floor, suddenly super aware of his sneakers. Out of the two older boys, he cracks the easiest, hence the lack of attention on me. "Ushijima said no, the answer is no," he whispers, sparing a glance at me before he jerks his head up, turning to watch the first years struggling to put up the net.

     I blink a few times, egging the fake tears to spill down my cheeks. My half-assed crying pulls a sigh from Wakatoshi, his hand burying itself in his jacket pocket. He tugs out his wallet, snapping it open and pulling out the stack of cash he has. "Here's eighty thousand yen," he mutters, tucking the smaller stash of cash away. "Tendo will be going with you and you will be back by nine, am I understand? I'm not talking to the Principal to get you out of trouble again because you ignored curfew."

     "We'll be home by nine." Wakatoshi looks down at me for another beat before rolling the wad of money my way. I happily take it, digging through the pocket of my jacket to add the bundle to the cash in it.

     Papa sends each of us twenty thousand yen every week as an allowance to get what we need for school and food and such, but he says we can use what's left over to do whatever. Dad wires money from the States every month too, usually about seventy-five hundred yen. Wakatoshi tends to have more cash than I do, partly because he's smarter with his money but also because of all those articles and such he does because of volleyball.

     What's the point of being stingy with my money if I know I'm inheriting Papa's fortune? When Papa finally steps down, Wakatoshi's volleyball career will be out of its prime and he'll take over the business. My brother gets the company and the means to make his own fortune, so Papa is giving me his fortune, swearing he won't step down until he's certain he's made enough that I'll never have to lift a finger in my life.

     "Spoiled Brat," Tendo mutters, slinging my jacket over his shoulder when I'm done stashing my money away. His hand settles on top of my head, gently squeezing it as he shakes me around. "I'll see you Saturday. Now, run along and go do something other than be cramped up in this musky gym."

     "Alright," I giggle, jumping up on my tippy toes to plop a kiss on his cheek. I make sure to take my jacket from him before turning away, switching my attention to Wakatoshi. His hand settles on the small of my back, pushing me towards the gym doors with the plan to walk me out. I swear it's criminal how easy I can play him.

———————————

I have no clue why I'm getting lectured. I know why Tanaka and Noya are getting lectured; because they were hitting on Shiratorizawa's manager, but I wasn't. I just happened to be standing next to them. Maybe this is the whole 'guilty by association' thing Daichi was telling me about.

"In moments of temptation, you should consider not what you may be offered, but instead what you may lose," Ushijima continues to lecture, making no sense. What does temptation have to do with a pretty girl? "The man that gives into temptation will lose his focus, his obedience, and because of that, shall lose the trust his team places on him. Perhaps he may not lose that trust, but that is worse than the former."

That makes some sense, but somehow even less sense. Girls are distracting, especially really pretty ones, but his manager wasn't going to distract me from our practice game. Is he lecturing us about girlfriends? That's what this is about, right? Where's Tsuki when I need him? He'd tell me why I was being yelled at.

     I glance to the side, trying to figure out how my teammates feel about the lecture. Tanaka is distracted, looking over the Monster blocker's shoulder to continue ogling over the manager. Noya looks like he's going to laugh, his eyes constantly moving back and forth. What's funny about getting yelled at? We're visitors. We should be trying our best to be respectful.

     With them being no help, I decided to look back up at Ushijima, trying to piece together what he was trying to say. I'm pretty sure he's saying trying to get a girlfriend will distract us from volleyball... I think.

     "I got you!" A soft voice cuts through Ushijima's, ending our lecture.

     The ace stumbles forward, his hand falling down to press against the hands resting on his stomach. They look small, the hands under Ushijima's, and carefully cared for, reminding me of porcelain. The intruder's skin is smooth like they've never been tarnished or exposed to the harmful lick of sunlight.

The person's nails are as carefully cared for as their skin. Long and carefully manicured, perfectly sporting the plaid purple of Shiratorizawa. Three rings decorate their fingers. The two on the right are simple silver circles of metal encasing their pointer and ring fingers. The one on the left, circling their middle finger, isn't as simple. It's shaped with inspiration from vines, wrapped around their delicate skin and the gems alike. Eight purple rocks are stamped into the jewelry, reminding me of roses among thorns.

     It feels too expansive to even breathe with so much beauty and money wafting off such a small section of the intruder. I'm not dumb... I'm not that dumb. I know Shiratorizawa is a school packed with rich kids. I know Ushijima and the rest of the team were going against mainly come from families with money, but I've never really seen it aside from the school grounds.

"Hello, Baby Doll," Ushijima murmurs, his tone notability softer. His shoulders relax like a weight was taken off with the presence of the person holding onto him.

     I glance at my teammates, trying to see how they're taking the sudden lack of tension that he always carries himself in. Tanaka is still busy looking over the manager, but Noya's focus is on the same thing mine is. His eyes shine and his head is titled in the usual way it is when he spots a girl that sparks his interest. I'll safely assume the intruder is a she then.

Ushijima's movements are careful like he's suddenly aware of his size. My assumptions were right, it is a girl. A girl the ace is carefully clinging to as he guides her around himself. "Did you harm yourself?" The words come out so soft I'm convinced I made them up. The squishing of my competitor's eyebrows - the only hint of emotion he's ever shown to me - telling me otherwise. Well, aside from careful hands patting the girl down, in search of injuries along her ribs.

The rest of her breezes expensive just as much as her hands do. Her hair is up, twisted, and curled in a way that would make YouTube Hair Tutorial artists envious, held in place by a hair clip. A hair clip fashioned in the shape of four small white flowers enveloped by pastel greens. It glints under the gym lights, almost like it's made out of glass. Maybe it is made out of glass. Either way, I'm sure the accessory alone costs more than my volleyball shoes.

     Splashes of purple, blue, and white are wrapped around her, looking like the least expensive thing but still somehow seeming worth more than a simple school uniform. Her floral scent seems to fill the whole gym and has settled on my chest, my lungs almost feeling flower pedals rubbing against them with every breath.

     "No, I'm fine," she answers, her voice sounding like the bells of heaven. I get why Ushijima called her baby doll. She looks like one, everything so perfect, even her imperfect dress shirt spilling out over her skirt. It's all just too... too... too meant to be. Like the universe adjusts just for her.

     The personally caused reminder of Ushijima calling her baby doll weighs on my chest, quickly burning up her floral scent and leaving behind ash to fill my senses. When his hands slide up and cup under her arms, the fire is quickly frosted over by ice. She looks even more perfect elevated in the air, raised so the taller boy can look straight into her eyes. Like this, she looks like an angel, her wings simply hidden underneath the material of her jacket.

     "It is dangerous for you to keep doing things such as that. Imagine if I had not known it was you. You could have been hurt. Or worse, I could have made you cry. Do not do such a thing again, alright?"

     The icy grip of jealousy is quickly melted away with the flames of anger again. How dare Ushijima lecture such a perfect being? Especially over something as simple as grabbing at him. Doesn't he see how her touch is made of gold? How lucky he is to have someone so beautiful, so perfect, so luxurious willingly touch him? How could he possibly think of her crying? I bet she still looks like perfect porcelain when she cries. I bet her tears are made from diamonds.

     My anger is smothered and some of my jealousy dies down when Ushijima places the girl back on her feet. My eyes fall, taking a glance at her shoes. They're the new black and gold Jordans that dropped last month. They're spotless and crisp still like she just took them out of the box this morning. Considering the energy wrapped around her, that scenario is hard to believe. I'm sure she had them preordered and delivered before their official drop.

     Ushijima starts fussing over the girl's uniform, tugging on the purple bow tie wrapped around her neck, making her look like a present. I wonder what it would be like, unwrapping her like a present.

     My sense quickly comes crashing down, embarrassment for my silent thoughts caressing my neck. I bet that's what Ushijima was talking about when he was rattling on about temptation. I was tempted by this shiny rich girl and instantly through my morals to the wind. That's not any way to think of a lady, much less a lady I know nothing about.

     "Your shirt is wrinkled," Ushijima grumbles, rambling up another lecture and successfully grounding me back to Earth. Still, embarrassment, a bit of guilt, and a cup of disgust with myself eat at my stomach. "And half untucked. Come here, let me tuck it in for you."

      A bit of annoyance flickers across her face as she pulls away from Ushijima, leaning more toward the middle blocker who seems terribly aware of her. "No," she hums, her arms and shoulders flexing in tune with her sliding off her jacket. "Classes are done for the week so it doesn't have to be picture-perfect anymore." Tendo jumps at the chance to play coat hanger, letting the girl hang her jacket on his arm.

     The longer the two of them peer down at her, Ushijima's face softer than normal and Tendo grinning from ear to ear, the harder I picture their downfall on the volleyball court. Why do they get to enjoy her beauty? Her sing-song voice? The soft way she flows like a river sliding down a mountain? Because they go to an expensive school? Because they're 'better' players? No, they're not, and I'm going to prove it.

"You look ridiculous in an untidy uniform. Let me fix it." The girl rebels, loosening the bow around her neck and letting it hang loose, which only seems to irritate Ushijima more. "Wearing your uniform in such a way makes you look mindless."

Her hands bury into her hair, pulling pins from seemingly nowhere before unclipping the clasp from her hair, all of which Tendo happily takes from her and stuffs away in his jacket. She doesn't even seem to notice the blocker's silent and blind obedience.

"Oh well," the girl finally responds, shaking her hair before letting it waterfall down her back. I wonder what it would feel like, running my fingers through her shiny locks. I bet it's soft. It looks soft, like her hands. I wonder if it has the same floral scent as -

"Hey, 'Toshi?"

- who the hell is 'Toshi' and why did she say his name like that?

"No," Ushijima grumbles, answering one of my questions. Jealousy bubbles in my chest again, fueled by the stone stare he looks down at her with and the doe eye, soft smile combo she returns to him. At the moment they remind me of a rock and a feather, complete opposites but somehow being a pair. It's not fair.

"Some of the girls are thinking about going out this weekend. I was wondering if I could go with, please?" She asks, tone hesitant like she expects a harder no in return.

"I have a practice game on Sunday and a meeting with a scout tomorrow. I cannot escort you. No," He repeats, hardening his eyes as he peers down at her. She doesn't need an escort. Look at her, she's a young adult more the capable of going out with her friends by herself. If she needs an escort that bad, I'll very happily escort her. Just hand her over already Ushijima.

"Pretty please? I don't even need an escort. Even if you are set on me having one, I'm sure Tendo wouldn't mind escorting me on Saturday, right, Chibi-Chan?" she rambles, tears in her eyes, shimmering like diamonds just like I guessed. She looks as beautiful upset as she does happy.

Tendo's face tightens as he looks between his two classmates, uncertainty and reluctance mixing in his expression before he decides to look at the ground. "Ushijima said no, the answer is no," he whispers, choosing to side with his captain.

Anger flickers across her face, quickly chased away by tears spilling over to coat her cheeks. She's fake crying, completely faking it. A bit of a snicker settles on my face as I watch the two of them slowly fall apart at the tantrum she's throwing. They don't believe this is real, no way... right?

Ushijima caves, a lot quicker than I thought imaginable. Within seconds of the center of his attention shedding her alligator tears, his wallet is out and enough cash to cover mom's mortgage, and then some is being counted out. "Here's eighty thousand yen. Tendo will be going with you and you will be back by nine, am I understand? I'm not talking to the Principal to get you out of trouble again because you ignored curfew."

Instantly, the water workers are put away. The girl snatches the money, her teeth shining in a smile and eyes sparkling as she looks up at her school's ace. "We'll be home by nine," she agrees, stuffing the money into her wallet like it's normal Friday and not like she was just handed enough money to cover my grocery bill for the next two months like it was chum change.

"Hey," Noya whispers, shoving his elbow into my side. "Your jaw is on the floor. You might want to pick it up," he teases, softly laughing at my shock.

"That...That's... that's half my mom's mortgage."

Noya shakes his head, his eyes glued to the angel of money, apparently, as she gets dotted on by Tendo. "Well, when you're the granddaughter of the CEO of Ushijima Incorporated, I'm sure you get used to being handed a paycheck worth of money simply for batting your eyelashes."

"Ushijima Incorporated?" I ask, trying to bite down the jealousy forming as I watch Tendo play with her hair. Anger muddies my jealousy when he calls her a 'spoiled brat'.

     "The king company of the volleyball world?" Tanka butts in, looking at me like I'm stupid. "They make literally everything we use. The volleyballs, our jerseys, the nets, they own like fifty percent of the volleyball shoe companies. They sponsor almost every Japan official team. Ringing any bells?"

     "No," I whisper, turning my attention back to Miss Queen of Volleyball. "Wait..." I slowly say, watching her kiss Tendo's cheek. "She's a Ushijima?"

     "Ya," they both say slowly, their amusement only growing with the more lack of knowledge I show.

     "So..."

So, Ushijima isn't into her or with her or anything. They're just siblings. That also explains her brother's tenseness about volleyball. No wonder he tries so hard to be the best.

"Do you feel stupid yet?" Tanka asks, looking at me rather wickedly.

"Why would I feel stupid?"

     "Because you've been drooling since she's shown up."

     "I have not," I mutter, my eyes trailing after the Volleyball Queen, watching as her brother walks her to the door. His hand on her back still tickles my jealousy, just not as bad as before. "I just think she's... interesting."

     "And way out of your tax bracket, bud," Tendo cuts in, chuckling when my embarrassment coats my cheeks. I totally forgot he was here. "Trust me, it's impossible to keep up with the bankroll her dear 'Papa' offers her."

     "You must be doing something right. She seems pretty attached to you," I point out, sending out a feel for what exactly Tendo's relationship is with her.

     My statement must not have been as subtle as a thought. The corners of his mouth turn up, drenching my spine with ice water. "Money doesn't speak to Papa Ushi'. He couldn't care less if you had a hundred thousand yen or one yen in your bank account. Make the Apple of his eye cry and he'll bury you alive and then piss on your grave. Make her laugh and he'll pay your tuition." From the look in Tendo's eyes, I'm guessing he's speaking from experience.

"That's all I have to do? Make her laugh?"

Tendo cackles, the sound scrapping against the gym walls. "No, kid. Grandma Cunt-tress and Mommy Dearest aren't so easy to win over. Lucky for you, the Spoiled Brat doesn't care about their opinions. She does care about Ushi's though. If he doesn't like you, you might as well be dead when the Brat is concerned."

     "How do I get Ushijima to like me?"

     "Be good at volleyball. Step one of that is stop receiving with your face," Tendo mocks me, his hand waving in front of his face as he walks away from me.

     Alright, I can handle this. Step one, make her laugh. Step two, make her brother like me. Step two, point a, don't take any receives to my face during our practice match. Easy peasy... hopefully.

———————————————————————

[13a07s]

As You Wish #2

(Wakatoshi Ushijima Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to ari]

Requested by: Still Not Jesus

Word Count: 3,685

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nick Names: Baby, Darling, Good Boy, Pussy

Degrading/Praise

Still a Hip Dip King

Size Kink

Oral (Female Receiving)

Subby Ushi

Ass Eating (Female Receiving)

Hair Pulling

Hickeys/Scratching

Creampie

Technical Ass Shot (?)

———————————————————————

"Maybe I should make you beg for it," I murmur, twirling a strand of his hair around my finger.

"I'm not going to beg for sex," Wakatoshi mutters, his jaw flexing as his eyes rapidly blink.

I let a fake pout rest on my lips, moving my thigh against his angry cock to let the stickiness from my previous orgasm make it wetter. "Fine, but I do want some attention. I want to cum again."

"As you wish," he whispers, his nose sliding down my stomach again, this time paired with the occasional light kiss to my skin. Wakatoshi's movement slows the lower he gets, his nose barely touching me as he stumbles past my hips. "I am going to perform oral sex now."

     "Okay," I silently giggle, shaking my head at the man buried between my thighs. As expected, his hands settle on my hips, thumbs buried into the dip etched into them.

     My hips are pressed into the mattress, keeping me cemented in my spot. Wakatoshi's tongue sneaks out, poking around my folds to clean up some of the mess that's been left behind. The teasing is as soft as all his other actions but shortly lived. It doesn't take long before his tongue is buried in me, skipping between pumping inside my pussy and twirling around my clit.

"Oh, fuck," I moan, my head lulling and my hips attempting to fight against Wakatoshi's grip. They stay still though, pressed harder against the bed. "Just like that, Baby."

He hums, the vibrations raking against my clit and pushing me closer to my finish. My thighs tighten around his head, pressing against Wakatoshi's cheeks as hard as they can. "Good boy," I murmur, burying my hands in his hair again.

     Wakatoshi pushes himself closer to me after the praise, his hips grinding against the bed. I can't help the laugh that spills out because of his desperation. "Are you that needy for praise, Baby? Do you need it so bad that your dick gets hard because of it?" A grumble is whispered into my pussy, his tongue moving rougher against my clit. "That's okay, Waka-Chan, I don't mind praising you. After all, you are a good boy that takes such good care of me."

     "Please stop," he whispers, cheeks tinted and head tipped up to suck in a deep breath. "It's hard to focus when you say things like that."

"Aww," I keep teasing, a mockingly caring tone in my voice. "Is Waka-Chan embarrassed that he was humping the bed like a needy dog?"

"I'm not a dog."

"You're right, you're not, because dogs know how to follow orders," I respond, pushing his head back down. Wakatoshi doesn't put up a fight, happily burying his head between my knees and diving his tongue right back into my pussy.

Whines flow out more than my hissy breaths do, my hips jerking trying to both pull away from and get closer to his tongue. "Wakatoshi," I moan, yanking on his hair to pull him closer. A hand releases my hip, jumping up to grip my hands and pull them out of his hair. Despite the disagreement, he does push himself closer, his tongue slow and flat as it edges me toward my peak.

My thighs strain against his face as I come undone, the sharp cut of his jaw digging into my flesh. My hands jerk, not getting far from the grip a single hand of his has around my wrists. The story is the same for my hips, trying to thrust with my adrenaline-filled orgasm, but they barely budge because of the weight of Wakatoshi's torso and hand holding me down.

"Don't pull my hair. It's not pleasing," he grumbles when he pulls away from me, reluctantly letting go of my wrists.

"Sorry," I huff out, trying to calm my breath and shake the last bit of adrenaline from my veins.

     "It's alright. Don't do it again," Wakatoshi mutters, hands back to gripping my hips, fingertips buried into my dips, his eyes slit and staring at my chest. "Can we have sex again?"

I let out a sigh, my shoulders shagging with the heavy breath. "I need a second."

"As you wish," he whispers, his focus dropping to his hands, watching them as he tests different grips around them. "Your hips will be bruised, as will your neck." His eyes blink rapidly as they jump between the two groups of bruises. "I enjoy it when you have bruises. I do not enjoy it when you make them disappear."

I softly hum, a bit confused about what he means. "Last week, after I came over you had two bruises on your neck along with the one on your chest." Wakatoshi's hand jumps up, his fingertips lightly dancing over the only proof of last week's hookup left. "I did not see them in class at all. Not once this week. You make them disappear, with makeup, I assume."

     His eyebrows are pressed together, making his forehead wrinkle again. "I was upset I could not see them. I was also upset others could not see them while speaking to you. I'm not sure why. My apologies."

     A smile cracks across my face from Wakatoshi's confused confession. This big ass teddy bear is jealous our classmates couldn't see the hickeys he left me. "I'm sure you'll figure out why," I tell him, letting my fingers dance across and push against the hickeys I left on his shoulder.

     "Can we have sex now?"

     "Ya." The word is barely out before Wakatoshi has me flipped over, settled on all fours with his hands attached to my hips like always.

     "You should put your hands on the headboard," he orders, leaning over me to grab the condom off the pile of my clothes set on my nightstand.

     "Why?" I ask, adjusting my position so I can do as he asked.

     My question is ignored, Wakatoshi silent besides the sound of him ripping open the condom wrapper. His fingertips slide across the plushness of my sides, managing to find their home before the tip of his dick finds its home. Surprisingly, his hands stay on my hips for only a beat before sliding further up my sides, caressing my shoulders before skating across my arms. "I want to hold your hands," he finally answers, resting them on top of mine.

     "Oh," I whisper, watching as he laces his fingers between mine, keeping both our hands pressed against the smooth wood of the headboard. Wakatoshi's head falls to my shoulder blades, melting between soft kisses and nips as he inches his cock deeper.

    A grunt is whispered into my skin when he bottoms out, his dick fitting snug and fighting for more space in my pussy. Wakatoshi's hot breath coats my back, making his kisses stand out against my skin. "My apologies, I need a moment," he mutters, his fingers squeezing mine.

     "You're fine."

     Hissy breaths and words soft enough for me to miss spill from Wakatoshi, his fingers routinely flexing around mine. "Alright," he whispers after a few breaths, slowly dragging himself out of me, leaving only his tip to tease my entrance. His hips snap forward, snapping his full length deep inside me.

The sound of my whimper makes his hands flex again, threatening to not only leave their imprint on my hips but my hands as well. His pace is steadily rough, the only thing stopping me from inching closer to the headboard being Wakatoshi's frame trapping me in place.

It's intoxicating, having all of him wrapped around me, showing me how much bigger he really is. Showing me how easy it would be for him to snap me in half if he chose to. The wisp of fear is overpowered by having so much of him. Wakatoshi's scent, tinted with sweat, seems to be everywhere. In my hair, on my sheets, borrowing its way into my mind.

The only thing coating my senses more than his scent is the feeling of him. His sticky skin suctioning with mine drenched in sweat. Wakatoshi's strong arms caging me in place, fingers wrapped so tightly around mine, daring me to even think of letting his hands go. His thighs pressed against mine, further keeping me firmly in place. His lips and teeth take turns rolling across my back, teasing it into giving in and decorating itself with more bruises.

Lastly, the feeling of him slowly ripping me apart from the inside out, his dick plunging in as far as it can go, making my pussy quiver in enjoyment and fear of giving out. I swear, it feels like Wakatoshi is trying to bully my cunt into the shape of his cock.

"Darling," he husks in my ear, tone low and strained from his heavy breathing.

"All... all... already?" I try to mock, the word coming out bumpy with each of his thrusts. He huffs, pressing more of his weight into his next thrust. "That's pretty pathetic, don't you think?" I murmur, my eyes fluttering, currently in an uphill battle to keep my eyelids open.

     "I'm not pathetic," he whispers, his voice finally replacing the soft grunts and deep breaths that have been caressing my ear. "You... you make it very difficult to... to maintain composure."

     "Do I? Do I make your dick twitch? Do you long for me when you're hard? Do you masturbate to thoughts of me, Waka-Chan?" The cutesy name does it for him like it always does. It's adorable how such a small thing, something as simple as a nickname, manages to break him every time.

Wakatoshi's fingers tighten around mine, threatening to crack them under his grip. His weight presses into me hard, willing his dick to push even a centimeter deeper. A long groan is whispered into my shoulder, dripping straight to my pussy and making me clench around him. His breath is hot as it brushes over my back, only adding to the sweat sticking to me.

His thrusts abruptly stop his body fully on me as he cum. My limbs shake, a mix of trying to support us and my pussy's overuse being the reason. My back curves under Wakatoshi's weight, slowly pushing me down toward the mattress.

"Darling," he murmurs, slowly releasing my hands from his death grip as he pulls himself off of me. "Are you alright?" The question is asked with his hand on my hip again, gently massaging it as his thumb trails the ups and downs of the dip it homes.

"I'm fine."

"Can you stay in this position longer? Perhaps you need a change to ease some of your shaking."

I let my head drop down, peaking at him between my legs. Wakatoshi is sat on his knees, his hand around his still-hardened dick as he carefully pulls the condom off.

My head spins at the sight, his tip still an angry red and his balls still heavy with cum. It can't be healthy for a man's sack to still be so full after three dumps, right? I don't know why I'm surprised. There hasn't been a single time we've taken a break or stalled between rounds because of Wakatoshi; it's always been because of me.

"I will change your positioning. I don't believe it is well for you to be in such a posture for so long," Wakatoshi mutters, resting the rubber on his thigh before turning his full attention to me. The hand on my hip pushes down, quickly joined by a hand on my back, pushing down on it as well.

I don't put up a fight, letting my body melt into the bed. His hand slides down once my chest is cushioned against my pillows, cupping my thigh before tugging on my legs, effectively laying me fully on my stomach. My arms snake under my head, propping it up a smidge as the man behind me carefully maneuvers his way between my legs again. Maybe Wakatoshi is deciding to spice things up again, eat me out from behind, or something.

     "I want to do it again," Wakatoshi mutters, his hands skittish as they settle on my butt, gently squeezing it before jerking his touch away.

     "Want to do what again? Another round of sex?" I mutter, letting my eyes droop closed. My question is answered when a sticky and warm substance is poured onto my lower back. I open my eyes a bit, peaking behind me to see Wakatoshi dumping his cum on me again, choosing to coat my butt in it this time.

     His eyes wander over my ass, watching the last few droplets join the branching rivers sliding across my cheeks. When Wakatoshi is satisfied that it's all out, he adds the rubber to the one thrown to the side on my bed table. "It looks..." his eyebrows push together, hands back on my butt, gripping it, softly moving it so it jiggles. "Very pleasing."

     "I'm glad," I giggle, letting my eyes fall back closed.

     He enjoys himself, groping my butt and spreading my cheeks apart so his sperm slides between them. The wet slippery feeling of his tongue catches me off guard, stalling my breath for a moment. "Waka-Chan?"

     "I am cleaning," he mutters, his muscle quickly back to twirling designs across my ass. Before I can respond, his face is buried, tongue sliding between my cheeks to lap up the cum that's spilled down. Occasionally, Wakatoshi's teeth graze my skin as he coats my butt with his saliva instead of his sperm.

     I settle into the feeling, letting my body relax. The longer his tongue works, the rougher his nips get against my skin. "What, Baby?" I hum, rotating my hips so the fat of my ass shakes. Wakatoshi grumbles, the rough sound mixing with an annoyed sigh. "Oh, I know what you want," I tease, not hiding an ounce of my amusement. "You want me to call you a good boy for cleaning up your mess, right, Baby? Don't worry, you're a good boy."

The bed jerks with the force of Wakatoshi's thrust against it, his hands tightening on my ass hard enough to sting. His tongue lashes at me a few more times before he's satisfied with his work and pulls away. "Turn over," I'm ordered, his hands fisting my ass once more.

I do as I'm told, moving my legs carefully so he can stay situated between them. Wakatoshi's eyes swim over me once I'm settled on the bed again, my arms stretched out over my head. I'm yanked further down the bed, his dick cozying itself between my folds. I can feel it pulsing, happy to get a taste of my slick again. "Already eager for round three?"

He hums, touch sliding up and down my hips, the callouses on his hands leaving a rough but calming feeling against my skin. "I do want sex again."

"But?" I ask, picking up the hesitation in his voice.

He ignores me, sliding his cock through my folds. Each time his tip slides across my clit, my hips jerk from the sensation. Wakatoshi's hands slide up, adding pressure to my lower abdomen. The pressure only makes my needs worse. "That is my favorite," he mutters, the head of his cock catching on my pussy. An even sigh is pushed out of his nose, jaw locked as he lets his tip rest barely pushed into me.

"What is?" I push, trying to wiggle my hips down and pull more of him inside me. Wakatoshi's hand pushes down on me harder, stopping me from gaining any ground.

When I stop squirming, he lessens the pressure a bit, his fingertips dragging back and forth over my skin. "This position," he whispers, hand freezing before pushing down harder. "I like the outline it shows. It is disappointing I won't get to see it," Wakatoshi finishes explaining, poking his tip deeper into me before pulling himself back out.

Almost desperate whimpers pump out of me, the current pressure on to abdomen stopping me from squirming once again. "You can though. You just... just have to fuck me again." My gentle ask keeps his hips moving but doesn't gift me more than the first inch of his dick. My hands jump up to cling to his biceps, my back arching in an attempt to suck in more of him.

     Wakatoshi's eyes lock on mine, his pupils overflowing the green of them. His jaw is set tight, seeming like the only thing stopping him from giving me even one extra inch. "I can't."

     "You can't?" I shriek, digging my nails into his skin and marching them up to his shoulders.

     "I can't," he repeats, thrusting himself just a bit farther this time. "I don't have any more condoms. It's irresponsible to have unprotected sex." Despite the reasoning in his words, Wakatoshi's pace is picking up, even if his depth isn't.

     "Fine, don't fuck me. You can sit there and jack yourself off like a horny schoolboy while I ride my dildo," I whine, jerking my legs around to try and get them situated in front of his chest. "Deny your want to see my pussy filled with cum all you want. That's what you want, right? Why you've been so interested in seeing it spilled all over me? Because you want to see my cunt overflowing with it."

     In one thrust, Wakatoshi buries himself balls deep, pulling a chirped moan from my lungs and making my back curve off the mattress. His fingers wrap around my ankles, pushing my knees to my chest and spreading my legs further apart. "You have not been nice today," he grumbles, letting go of one of my legs.

     His hand cements itself against my stomach again, fingertips pressing against the outline of his dick slightly bloating my belly. "I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Waka-Chan," I ramble, desperately clawing at his shoulders. This isn't a fair position, especially with extra pressure added.

     The tip of his dick kisses right against my G-spot with the help of his hand pushing down on my abdomen, his shallow thrusts against it already driving me crazy. "Wakatoshi," I whine, my hands clawing further down to try and pull myself up against him.

     "Lay down. I want to see it," he orders, pulling all the way out before sliding fully back in with a swift thrust.

     I slowly give in, sinking into my bedding with my fingers still clung to his shoulders. Wakatoshi's eyes settle on my stomach, them and his fingers sliding against the reappearing and disappearing outline of his dick. "This is unsafe," he mutters, eyes flickering to my face before falling again.

     "It's not my fault you're worried about your pullout game."

     "I don't want to pull out. I want to ejaculate inside you," he admits, tone so soft it's barely heard over the sound of his balls slapping against my ass

     "Then do it, Pussy - eh!"

     Wakatoshi jerks forward, balling me up even more. My knees tap against the headboard, the tip of his dick slamming into my G-spot instead of just poking at it. "You are being rude," he grumbles, voice a bit louder and tone a little sharper with annoyance. "Why have you been so mean? People tend to act out in such ways when they're not receiving beneficial attention. What attention do you need to be nice again?"

     "I... ah... I," My words stick to the roof of my mouth, stars starting to twinkle behind my eyes because of the brutal abuse to my g-spot.

     "Do you need to orgasm again? Perhaps I have been unfair, is that what you need?" My mouth hangs open, sucking in breaths as quickly as I can, my head eagerly shaking in agreement with Wakatoshi's words. "Why don't you ask, Darling?" He huffs out, adjusting my legs so he can snake his hand between us. "Have you not learned that anything you wish for, I will fulfill?"

     The pad of his finger sliding against my clit is all it takes for my pussy to clench down on his cock. "Oh, oh, oh," I whine, my back curling up the best it can. "Waka-Chan!" I call while my nails try and repeatedly fail to hook on his shoulder blades.

     His head tips down, nose nuzzling against my neck. "Are you alright with it?"

     "With... with... with what?" I stumble out, overstimulation quickly pumping through my veins.

     "With me orgasming inside you?" He whispers, brushing his lips against my neck. My head nods my answer, yes, my pussy agreeing as it spasms around him, trying to milk every last drop of cum out of his cock. "As you wish, Darling." The answer is punctuated with a kiss on my shoulder, his hips growing heavier against mine.

     Just as my overstimulation teases to overflow, threatening to pull tears down my cheeks, Wakatoshi's thrusts freeze, the warmth that has coated my skin so many times today now coating the walls of my cunt. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," he whispers with every exhale, the feeling of him overflowing and dripping down my thighs filling my tank of lust even if my body can't take anymore.

     When he's finished, Wakatoshi slowly backs off of me, more of his sperm leaking out as he slides his dick out of my pussy. His hands cup the back of my thighs, easing my legs down. "Good job, Darling," he hums, his focus already set on massaging the aches out of my left leg.

     "You need the bathroom and probably a bath. I need to throw out the condoms. Find the massage lotion in my bag as well for after your bath. A heating pad too, or maybe an ice pack would work better. Food and water. Perhaps a burger or maybe you would prefer something home-cooked." Wakatoshi rattles off his to-do list, his fingertips digging into my leg muscles.

     "I have some frozen chicken in the freezer."

     "As you wish," he whispers, bending down to plop a quick kiss on my hip, lips brushing against the dip buried in my skin.

———————————————————————

[13a07s]

As You Wish #1

(Wakatoshi Ushijima Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to ari]

Requested by: Not Jesus

Word Count: 5,089

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nick Names: Baby, Darling, Good Boy

Mentions of Drug Abuse

Slight Size Kink

Ushi being a Hip Dip King

Mutual Masturbation

Hickeys

Degrading/Praising

Subby Ushi

Titty Fondling

Techniqual Titty Shot (?)

Part Two Coming

———————————————————————

Ding.

The soft sound and the vibration of my phone on my leg pull my eyes away from the movie playing on the flat screen. The yellow Snapchat icon stands out against the image of my siblings, my nephew, and me. My eyes flicker up for a moment, checking the time. Ten twenty-one. Maybe Iwaizumi finally sent his streaks.

Once my phone is unlocked, it's proven to me that my brother's best friend isn't the one to snap me. "You know," Tooru starts, warming up the tantrum he's about to throw. "I'm watching this chick flick because you asked me to."

"You're watching the movie to have sallow heart-to-hearts with your fan girls over it," I grumble, hovering for a moment before clicking open the snap-text.

Waka| Are you currently awake?

I roll my eyes at the guy's properness. Would it kill him to try getting into text culture? Probably.

Me| Ya

I can't even click out of the chat before he texts back.

Waka| Will you still be awake in sixty

| minutes?

Me| That's a specific time limit

Waka| I need time to get home and shower.

Me| It's late, traffic won't be bad

Me| Where are you this late anyway?

His bitmoji pops up a few times as he carefully crafts his text. Whatever he was writing gets thrown out and replaced by a picture being sent instead. I shrink further into the couch, turning away from my brother before opening Wakatoshi's snap.

I swear I can feel my pupils widen as I happily drink in his photo. He's sat straight on a bench, his legs on either side of it and clenched tight like he's trying to choke the seat out with his thighs. Wakatoshi's shirt is off, showing off the physique he works so hard to maintain. His right arm is shown off too, stretched out as he runs a towel through his soaked hair. My mouth waters with the want to lick the sweat off every one of his perfectly maintained muscles.

His face is as set in boredom as the words typed across the picture.

Waka| I'm at the gym. Can I come over

               | after I shower?

Me| Come over and do what?

Waka| Preferably I would like to have sex,

              | but if you don't wish for that I                

| would be happy just sleeping too.

Me| You do know sleepovers don't fall

          | under the Sneaky Link agreement

| right?

     Waka| I thought we were Friends With

              | Benefits. A good night of sleep is

              | the greatest benefit in life.

     Me| We're not friends

     Me| You have sixty before I lock the door

     Waka| I have a key.

     When I finally look up from my phone, Tooru's eyes are bearing into me, a cocky smile on his face. "Who sent you a 'you up?' text?"

     "It wasn't a 'you up' text," I murmur, making sure to face my phone down in my lap. My brother hates Ushijima. Literally loathes the man. The only person he hates more is some kid named Kageyama. When the two of them landed at the same college, I was convinced Tooru was going to forgo his top-pick college for second-best just because of the guy.

     "So, if I told you my plans at eleven fell through, you wouldn't be mad?" He baits, carefully watching for my reaction.

     "Nope."

     "I should probably head home."

     "Ya, probably."

     Luckily for the two of us, our mother agreed to pay for off-campus housing as long as we managed to get at least one scholarship. So, we both have small off-campus apartments about three blocks from campus. Also lucky for us, Mom agreed to rent out an apartment for each of us instead of sticking us into the same renter. Tooru's place is only a floor up from mine. Close enough to be comfortable but far enough away that we can live our lives separately.

     "I can't believe you're letting a dude named Waka pipe you," Toru pokes, standing up from the couch to stretch out his limps.

     My cheeks warm for a second, replaying the conversation between Ushijima and me. My brother couldn't have seen anything too bad, seeing how I turned before opening the photo and talking about sex. However, the thought of Tooru finding out who exactly Waka is scares me and brings more embarrassment than the thought of him reading my texts. "Says the guy that hooked up with a known coke user last night," I finally manage to stab back.

     "Touché."

                     ———————————

     I wait a few moments after the knock to open the door, not wanting to seem too eager for Wakatoshi's arrival. It's not like it'll make a difference since I never know what he's thinking, especially about me.

My breath hicks when I get the door open. There he stands, looking down his nose at me, as intense and as bored as ever. My hormones instantly jerk, sending sparks through my veins at the sight of his sweatpants and a loose graphic tee. It has to be illegal or at least immoral for a man to look like Wakatoshi. "Hi," I greet, slowly tugging my eyes back up to meet his.

"Hello." Father Winter slides his nails down my spine at the sound of his voice. Deep, rich, always so certain. "There are two plates on the table," Wakatoshi points out, his eyes wandering around the house as his hands focus on clinging to the strap of his bag.

"My brother was over. We had dinner and watched a movie."

"Is he still over?" The question is light, almost cautious as it's asked.

"He left earlier."

Wakatoshi hums, the sound just as deep as his voice and just as quick to tease the lust brewing between my legs. "I'm spending the night."

"Are you asking or telling me?"

His eyes jump back to me, abruptly ending their trail. "I'm telling you."

"Okay," I murmur, widening the door so he can make his way in. He breezes past me, sliding his arm between my stomach and the door. My breath hicks again from the small touch, getting me a quick glance from Wakatoshi before he closes the door. The soft clicks of the locks don't help me any.

A million scenarios race through my head as he turns around and looks down at me again, head tipped and eyes sharp. Sharp enough to slice straight into my core. "Are we having sex tonight or just sleeping?"

"We're having sex," I mutter, trying my best not to let my eyes trail down to his sweatpants again. I swear the imprint of his dick is as set in my head as it is in his pants. This man is going to be the death of me.

"Alright." Wakatoshi moves forward, his hands sliding under my arms to pick me off my feet. "Is this alright?" He asks, settling me on his waist. "I saw it in a movie Tendo took me too. The woman seemed to enjoy it. Are you enjoying it?"

"Ah... ya," I answer, wrapping my legs around his sides before settling my arms around his neck. He nods in understanding, his hands slow and uncertain as they slide down to hold my hips, his thumbs pressed into the dips marking the center of my hips. No matter how many times we hook up, I don't think he'll ever get completely comfortable touching me.

"I had a bad day," Wakatoshi tells me, his steps slow and steady as he makes our way through the house.

"I'm sorry," I breathe out, nudging his jawline with my nose. He gives in, tipping his head to the side so I can start brushing kisses against his throat. They start out light, little butterfly kisses against the warmth of his skin, letting my senses drown in his scent. Cinder and a hint of leather, the same scent that coats the interior of his car and his dorm room.

     By the time my bedroom door is creaking open, my mouth is sucking on the delicateness of his neck with my teeth gently teasing his skin. Despite my eagerness to litter him in hickeys, I know how much shit he'd get and how upset Wakatoshi would be about it.

     Before I can pull myself off of him, I'm let go and dropped from his arms. Fear of slamming into the ground flickers through me, chased away by the softness of my bed enveloping my fall. "What the hell?!" I yelp, adjusting my placement on the mattress.

Wakatoshi blinks at me for a moment before going back to unslinging his bag from his shoulder and resting it on my dresser. "There is no need to shout. If you wish to be picked up again, simply ask. I don't mind."

"You can't just drop me like that! What the hell gave you that bright idea?"

Again, he stops moving, slowly blinking as he stares at me. "I could not have taken my bag off while holding you. I assumed your bed would be the most comfortable place to rest as I settled in. Why are you still yelling?"

My anger settles down at his explanation, finding reasoning in it. "Next time let me know you're going to drop me. Don't just do it."

"As you wish," he murmurs, turning away from me to dig through his bag. I let myself relax, my back pressed against the headboard, my legs stretched out on top of my sheets, and my head hanging to press against the wood I'm using to support myself. "Take your clothes off," Wakatoshi softly orders, his hands already busy pulling his shirt over his head.

     I think over his request for a moment, toying with the hem of my pajama shirt. "Or you could take my clothes off."

     "Alright," he agrees, carefully folding his shirt before placing it on his back. Little things like that are what had me convinced he was a robot the first time we met.

     Once his t-shirt is squared away, Wakatoshi makes his way over to the bed, the mattress dipping under his wake as he sits on the edge of it. His hands find their way to my hips, his thumbs finding their way to my hip dips like they always do. It pushes into the spots harder for a second, his eyes glued to his fingers, before sliding them across again, this time toying with the end of my shirt.

     "What are they called?" He softly asks, letting the silk material slip over his fingers. Wakatoshi's fingertips move gently but the calluses on them rub roughly against my skin.

     "What is what called?" I murmur, letting my eyes flutter closed. I soak in the feeling of his hands, drowning in the comparison between the feel of them and the gentle actions they gift me. They inch their path, almost teasingly pushing my shirt further and further up.

     "The spot that I squeezed. What is it called? I was trying to talk to Tendo about it but he couldn't understand what I was saying."

     "Hip dips," I answer, the words coming out airy because of my lungs' lack of job fulfillment. The feeling of his fingers against my sides, his hands big enough to tease my breasts as they slide path, being responsible for the oxygen boycott.

     "I enjoy your hip dips. They're pleasuring," he tells me, his hands staying light as he pulls my shirt over my head, careful not to pull my hair or catch the material on my earrings.

     Wakatoshi's eyes bounce across my bareness, leaving a trail of warmth over every inch they cross. His fingertips slide down, trailing between my breasts before settling on the hickey left in the middle of where my underwire rests. Without a bra on, the full size of the bruise is left exposed. "I would like to leave more," he whispers, the words seeming more for himself to hear than me.

     As he keeps busy tracing the yellowing bruise, I let my eyes outline every muscle of his torso. They're still sexy, but not as hot as they are covered in sweat. Wakatoshi always looks best drenched in sweat after the gym or one of our hookups. "Are you going to stare at me the whole time?" I ask, drawing figure eights against his pec. "Or are you going to do something? If you just want to stare, take a picture and leave so I can handle stuff myself."

"I would like to see that."

"See what?"

"You touch yourself." Embarrassment quickly drowns out my lust, making my fingertips freeze against his chest and my eyes lock on his Adam's Apple. "I have been doing research about sexual scenarios recently."

"Like actual research or asking Tendo questions?"

"Both," he answers, his fingertips finally sliding off the leftover hickey from last week. They change focus to my breast, twirling around my nipple as his other hand slides its way to my thigh, his thumb buried in the hip dip he likes so much. "I worry our routine has left you unsatisfied. Women with inadequate fathers such as yourself tend to be more creative in the bedroom than we have been."

"You just told me I had daddy issues."

"No," Wakatoshi slowly says, pinching my nipple between his finger and thumb as his other hand grips my hip tighter. "I said women with inadequate fathers tend to be more sexually creative. Tendo recommended I stop being so gentle with you and see how you react. He also recommended some activities to try together, such as mutual masturbation."

"Ushi, Baby," I call, tapping his chin so he'll look up from my boobs. He gives me what I want, his eyes on mine as he pinches my nipple harder. It takes me a second to hush down my lust and to lock away the moan clawing at my throat. "Your friend is weird."

"I suppose," he murmurs, his eyes scanning my face for a reaction as he slowly twists my nipple. "But more times than not he is correct. If you do not wish to try mutual masturbation we can try something else. Or, perhaps you don't wish for me to handle you rougher."

"We can... try both," I stumble out around my hissy breaths, the attention to the same tit balancing on the thin line between pain and pleasure. "I just... uh... don't talk to... Tendo about... about our sex life."

"As you wish, as long as you stop referring to me by my last name. My teammates, people at school, people like your brother refer to me as Ushijima. You refer to me as Wakatoshi. Or perhaps Daddy. Is that something you wish to call me?" He asks, dropping his touch away from my boobs to cup both of my hips. "I've been told women with inadequate fathers also like referring to their sexual partners in such a way."

"No, I'm good," I answer, fluttering my eyes open. Wakatoshi's attention is back on my breasts, watching the way they rise and fall with every breath I take.

"Alright," he whispers, his fingers dipping under the waistband of my pajama bottoms and panties. His eyes swirl over the newly exposed skin as he pushes the clothing off of me, carefully folding them and placing them on my nightstand before turning his attention back to me. "We are going to masturbate now."

"Uh, okay." I stay still, watching Wakatoshi stand up from the bed and wander over to my desk. He takes hold of the chair waiting to be used, dragging it across the room before settling it next to the bed. He's never going to get used to touching me and I'm never going to get used to his matter-of-fact and straight-to-the-point habits of speech.

The bear of a man settles into the blue fluffy chair, looking a bit over-packed against it. "That won't do," he husks out, gripping my ankle before pulling me down the bed. I'm slid onto my back, my head on my pillows for a beat before his big hands are squeezing my hips again. I'm jerked around again, turned ninety degrees so I'm exposed toward the chair and my head threatens to dangle off the bed.

"Much better," Wakatoshi's voice sounds almost cheery as he leans over me, his nose trailing down my stomach. He hovers by my hip, quickly peaking the dip of it before jumping over to do the same to the other side. I guess he wasn't kidding when he said they were 'pleasuring' him. "Was that too rough? The way I moved you?"

"No, it was pretty hot."

"How so?" He asks, his hands leaving me. They're not gone for long, quickly returning to shimmy pillows behind me, effectively propping me up so I can look at him stuffed into my desk chair.

"I find it sexy how much bigger and stronger you are than me. It makes me horny when I man can and does treat me like a rag doll."

Wakatoshi stays silent, staring at me with his arm propped on the chair and his chin settled on his fist. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind," he mutters, finally unfrozen.

His hand shoves down his sweatpants and boxers, just enough for his half-hardened dick to breathe freely. "Begin touching yourself," he orders, wrapping his hand around his dick and slowly pumping it. Embarrassment coats my veins again, egged on by his intense stare. "Darling, please," he asks, lust already edged in his tone. "I feel ridiculous touching myself while you simply watch. Touch yourself as well."

I let my fingertips slide down my stomach, the self-given teasing touch dripping straight to my core. Wakatoshi's eyes widen just a smidge from the simple brush of my fingers, his hold on himself tightening as I finally get to my destination. "Thank you," he murmurs, his hand moving faster as I drawl circles against my clit.

When my hips start to tighten, getting ready to spring a thrust, I draw my fingers lower, teasing my entrance. Wakatoshi's soft huffs and intense focus on me slowly melt from embarrassment to fuel for my hormones. Seeing how focused he is and how eager his hand slides up and down his dick because of my 'self-care' is quite the ego stroke. This big, bad volleyball player fighting so hard to keep his composure.

A stringed moan parts from me as I tip two of my fingers inside my pussy, curling them against my vaginal walls. "Wakatoshi," I whine, slowly dragging my fingers out before thrusting them back in.

His eyes flicker as fast as his hand flicks, his fingers tightening at my call for him. "Darling, we should have sex now."

"No," I whisper, picking up the thrust of my fingers. "You wanted this, now you get to just watch."

His mouth quivers, words stuck on his tongue as his eyes jump between my face and watching my fingers disperse inside myself. "Darling," he carefully calls, chest pumping faster with his increased heart rate. "I wish to be inside you."

"Why?" I ask, my voice pitching and back arching with the rapid approach of my orgasm. "Are you worried I please myself better than you can?"

"Of... of course, not," he grunts, the tip of cock an angry red and his knuckles coated with the spurt of his pre-cum. "I just wish..." He's cut off by a groan, the sound deep and rattles straight to my pussy. "To be... in you."

His slight begging is the blade that snaps the rope holding back my orgasm. I spit out an embarrassing squeal, my pussy clenching around my fingers as cum drips down my thighs, landing on my bedding.

By the time I settle down, my back already aching from arching and slowly resting against the bed again, Wakatoshi looks ready to pop. His cheeks are dusted red, wrinkles decorating his forehead as his eyes focus on the mess of my thighs, and his hand moving fast enough that I'm a bit worried so going to give himself a rag burn. "Darling," he grumbles, the nickname coming out hissy.

"Waka-Chan," I coo, sliding my fingertips through my wet folds, drenching them with my slick cum. I let my fingers wander upward before settling on the dips of my hips, slowly trailing across them and coating my skin in the glistening of myself. He watches me for a beat before screwing his eyes shut.

A grumble, almost jagged rough enough to be a growl, lunges for Wakatoshi, his hand stalling as it gets coated in the saltiness of cum. Slowly, his face melts back to calmness, his dick still twitching and his hand still wrapped around himself. I let my hand slide back between my legs, circling my sensitive clit because of the scene in front of me. This is definitely hotter than his gym pick.

Wakatoshi takes a few moments, evening out his breathing and coming down from his high. After he settles, his eyes snap open and he finally lets go of his dick, full focus back on me toying with myself. "Can I do it too?"

"Do what, Baby?"

"Put my cum on your dips."

"Sure," I giggle, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I can't help the giddiness Wakatoshi's appreciation for my hip dips brings. It's such a small but cute thing for him to like.

He wastes no time, crawling onto the bed and on top of me, careful not to waste any of the sperm coating his hand. Once his thighs are secured on either side of me, squeezing me between them, his fingertips draw designs against my hip dips, our cum mixing together to leave a sticky and quickly cooling mixture on me.

I take the time to look over Wakatoshi, admiring his long lashes and the slow way he blinks them. Admiring the softness but determination in his muddy olive eyes. The smoothness of his skin tugged so tight over his muscles that it reminds me of cloth over stone.

"I want to have sex now," he asks, his eyes flickering up to peer at mine before falling back to his finger painting.

     "I want sex now too."

     He nods the agreement as sure as everything he does. Wakatoshi slowly leans down, quickly peaking my lips before climbing off of me. That's another weird thing he does, so open to having sex but so awkward about kissing me. He's gone for less than a minute, walking away long enough to dig through his bag before he's back by the bed.

     One of his hands fumbles with the rubber, tearing two of them apart, as the other dips into my pussy, feeling my wetness and teasingly poking at my opening. "Do you need more foreplay or do you believe you'll be alright?"

     "I'll be fine."

     He hums, pulling his touch away to focus on the condoms. One is placed on my nightstand, the gold wrapper standing out against my folded clothes, as the other one is carefully opened and rolled onto his cock. "Maybe I should kiss you again," he whispers, crawling his way on top of me.

     "I would like a kiss."

     Another hum as his hands take hold of my hips, flipping us so he's sat upright with me in his lap. His thumbs find their home, rubbing against my skin and smearing our cum even more. His eyes rapidly blink as he inches his lips closer to mine, uncertainty in his movements. I take the rain for him, closing the gap between us with a soft kiss, one that manages to pull a groan from Wakatoshi.

     "Thank you," he whispers when we pull apart, his nose tracing a path down my cheek and along my jaw before settling on my neck. He pulls me closer, the tip of his dick stumbling for a second before finding my pussy. "I am going to give you more bruises while we have sex, alright? You shall give me some in return, preferably on my shoulders."

     "As you wish," I tease, slowly lowering myself on his dick. My hands grip his biceps, my lips latching onto his shoulder. My pussy flutters around him, the flutter quickly melting into the pain of taking his girth, both measurements of his dick being a lot to take.

     My whimpers melt into the bruise I'm leaving on his shoulder, the sounds only getting louder the lower I sink. "Good job," Wakatoshi whispers against my skin when I finally manage to suck in every last inch of him. "Do you wish to move yourself or do you want me to move you?"

     I think about it for a moment, unlatching from the spot I was working on. My tongue rolls over the purple melted into his skin, deciding to make the next one darker. "You," I finally answer, shifting a few centimeters down his shoulder before starting my work all over again.

     Wakatoshi's hands tighten on my hips, slowly lifting me until just his tip is poked inside me. I suck in a deep breath, starting the exhale of it when he loosens his hold and lets gravity shove me back down. "Wakatoshi," I whimper, my nails digging into his skin.

     My plea is only acknowledged by a harder suck on my neck and the gentle slide of his teeth against my skin. His fingers tighten against me again, matching bruises on my neck sure to be there in the morning. Wakatoshi starts the pace off slow, inching me up before sliding back down. The pace doesn't stay like that for long, my hips quickly being slammed against his.

Aches settle into my bones because of the pace. Aches that he's never given me before. Wakatoshi wasn't kidding about being rough with me, but I couldn't love it any more than I do right now. My skin burns, notably more on the three little bruises he's left on my neck than anywhere else. The mix of pain and pleasure is intoxicating, making it hard to focus on placing hickeys on him in return.

Whines and whimpers spill from me like air, my legs tightening around his torso. "Darling," he husks in my ear, his lips attaching themselves and sucking right below it. I know what the call for me is, it's the mark of the being of his unraveling.

The room feels with a pop because of me dragging my mouth off of his shoulder. One of my hands slides up, cupping his cheek as I tilt my head to rest my nose against him. "Are you going to cum again, Waka-Chan?" I tease, letting my lips brush against his. "I thought you had more stamina than that."

His reaction is fried, mouth quivering like before as he rushes to piece together an answer, eyebrows pressed together in concentration, and pupils blown out in arousal. "I... I have stamina," he huffs out, his minty breath filling my senses. "You're... you are just... gripping me a lot more than... than usual."

"Am I?" I hum, making myself clench around him. A groan bubbles out of Wakatoshi, hands hard as they shove my hips down against his as rough as he can manage. "Aw, is my Baby already coming?" I softly degrade, finally inching close enough to give him a proper kiss. He melts into it, jerking me closer so my belly is pressed against his.

When we part, Wakatoshi flips us over, keeping himself buried in me as I'm pressed into the mattress. "You are rather taunting today."

"Do you not like it?" I ask, tracing the five hickeys littered on his shoulder. I'll have to place some on the other one during our next round.

Wakatoshi stays silent as he slowly pulls out of me, carefully rolling the condom off to not spill any on the bed. "I believe I enjoyed it. It made me finish quicker than I do without it," he finally answers, his eyes flickering between the rubber dangling above me and my boobs.

"That's good." The second word comes out pitched, surprise melting into my tone. Confusion mixes with the surprise, the warm, almost hot feeling of Wakatoshi's cum being dropped onto my chest. "What are you doing?" I ask, carefully watching as he dumps the condom out and onto me.

He gently shakes the rubber, encouraging the last few droplets to leak out and join the puddle on my tits. The puddle that's melting all over my chest and leaving my boobs coated in semen. "I wanted to see what your breasts looked like covered in my sperm. It's an enjoyable sight," Wakatoshi answers, disregarding the used condom on my nightstand before cupping my chest.

His hands squeeze my boobs, repeatedly pushing them in circles and encouraging his cum to spill over more of my skin. His thumbs find my nipples, sliding back and forth as he watches every reaction I have. "I should have asked before doing that," Wakatoshi mutters, uncertainty back in his movements as he leans down to gift me another kiss. "Is this alright? Did you enjoy it? Should I grab a towel to clean your chest before our next round?"

"It was shocking, but not in a bad way."

"Are you enjoying it though?"

"Yes, I am."

He thinks over my answer for a moment, still kneading my breasts. "Do you want me to clean you yet?"

"With your tongue, ya."

Wakatoshi's eyes jerk up, a blush flickering across his cheeks before he gets his rushed reaction under control. "As... as you wish," he mutters, sliding down a bit so his mouth can comfortably reach my tits.

My back arches at the feel of his tongue sliding across my boob, slowly lapping up the mess he made. Wakatoshi takes his time, swirling around my nipple and licking up every last drop before doing the same to the other side. "Look at you," I begin my teasing, running my fingers through his hair. "So eager to clean up the mess you made. What a good boy."

His hips jerk against my thigh, teeth gliding against my nipple as he groans. Wakatoshi's tongue goes flat, sliding over my nipple once more before he pulls away from my chest. "Aww, how cute, someone likes being called a good boy, doesn't he?"

His hands dig into my hip bones, pulling me down as he thrusts into my thigh harder this time. "Can we have sex again?"

———————————————————————

[13a07s]

What a Little Shit

(Keishin Ukai)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Ma2]

Requested by: The Ghost of Easter Present

Word Count: 3,810

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Platonic Oneshot; Not Romantic

Name Calling: Cupcake, Mini-Me

Single Father Takeda

Overprotective Uncle Ukai

Smoking

Mentions of Drug Abuse

Mentions of Underage Drinking/Marijuana Use

Underage Smoking

Mentions of Blowjobs

Cheating

———————————————————————

"What the fuck is that?" I ask my fellow coach, my eyes wandering over a short package of pink dye, piercing-filled skin, and a fluffy skirt.

"A person, you grump on a lump," the drench of... of girl snaps at me. Her arms are across over her chest as she tries to glare at me. The want to be angry just makes the teenager look like a kitten plucked from her clutter too soon. "You know, your mood would improve if you gave up smoking. Not at first, but in the long run it would."

Takeda sheepishly smiles at me as he strengthens his hold on the girl's shoulders. The big round eyes empathized by the glasses on her plump face make her look like an obscured Mini-Me of the teacher behind her. "This is my lovely daughter. She didn't mean that insult."

The shock that rakes through me is great enough that the cigarette between my lips tumbles to the counter, promising a burn mark to be left behind. "I'm sorry?" I mutter, sitting up straight as I once over the child again. "Daughter?"

"Yes," Takeda laughs, the sound announcing his nerves even more. "There's a mandatory teaching conference in Tokyo this weekend but she has an art exhibit on Saturday so I can't take her with me. So, I was wondering - "

"No," I answer before he can ask his question.

"Come on. Please?" He starts his begging, my constant headache caused by him already rolling in. "I don't have anyone else to watch her or else I wouldn't ask."

"What about her mother?"

"My Cupcake's mother left us when she was three months old. Last I knew she was strung out somewhere in Hiroshima but that was almost a year ago." The sudden seriousness in Takeda's voice is almost as unsettling as the quick history lesson on his Baby Mama.

"I'm old enough to stay home for one weekend by myself, Dad," His daughter butts in, unfazed by the openly hung dirty laundry about her mother. If anything, her interest in her cellphone almost convinces me she didn't hear any of it.

"Disobedient daughters that sneak out of the house to go drinking and get high with their classmates don't get to be home alone." Or maybe she's not unfazed by it. After the small reprimanding, Takeda turns his attention back to me, the whole father mask wiped from his face. "It's just two nights! She'd be more than happy to help you around the store - "

"Absolutely not." His daughter's snarky comment and Takeda's blatant ignorance of it are almost funny enough to make me laugh.

"She's pretty self-sufficient and I'll give her money for food. You can stay at my place so you'll both have a comfortable amount of space. I just need someone to make sure she's okay and staying out of trouble. Really you just need to watch her Friday night and Sunday until I get back since she'll be busy with her art exhibit most of Saturday. She's a nice kid, I swear. Her insulting you was just - "

"Let me think about it," I grumble, cutting off Takeda's ramble of pleas. My fingers dig into my temples as I massage them, my headache full steam ahead now. A river of 'thank you's spills from my friend, relief melting off of him as annoyance melts from his daughter. "I didn't agree, I said let me think about it!" I yell, finding his appreciation more annoying than his pleas.

"Thank you so much, Ukai!" He chirps over his shoulder, herding his daughter out of my store. "I really appreciate it."

"I didn't say yes!" Great, now I'm stuck on babysitting duty all weekend because Takeda can't take no for an answer.

What a little shit.

—————————————

A puddle of annoyance, heated eyes, and soft blue with streaks of pink hair settles in front of me. Takeda is hunched over in his millionth bow, 'thank you's exhaling from him more than air. I wonder if his back hurts from how often he bows to others.

"It's not that big of a deal," I grumble, a cocky smile crawling on my face at the win of my staring contest with the pissed girl. "I just have the team and the store this weekend anyway. One more teen can't make too much havoc."

Takeda wearily smiles as he straightens his stance, making me second guess my statement. His attention quickly shifts to his daughter, his hands jumping from her shoulders to her hair. "I'll be back Sunday night, Cupcake."

"Okay."

"I'll call you as soon as I get to Tokyo."

"Okay."

"Behave for Ukai-San."

"Okay."

"Hey, I'm being serious," Takeda says, his tone firm as he grabs his daughter's face, forcing her to look at him. "Behave. Don't go around causing him any issues. No drinking. No smoking. No weed. No boys. Understand?"

"Yes, Dad," she answers, her tone annoyed and eyes rolling.

He tucks her head down, leaving a light kiss on his daughter's forehead. "I'm going to miss you so much. I love you, Cupcake."

"I love you too," the girl whispers, wrapping her arms around her father as she buries her head in his chest. "You promise you're going to call tonight?"

"Of course. I'll call you every night I'm gone. Feel free to text or call whenever you feel like it. You're the most important thing in my life, Cupcake. Don't forget that."

I rip my eyes away, my stomach churning from the sight of my friend's eyes watering. I know Takeda is a softy but damn, I didn't think he was that soft. It's one weekend away from his teenager. It's not like she's going off to college.

Slowly, the two of them part, Takeda buzzing with anxiety as he picks his bag off the ground. "Alright, behave," he reminds her, giving her a stern look before pecking her forehead again. "I'll see you in two days! I love you!"

"Love you too, Dad!" The girl responds, waving at her father until he's tucked in his car and far enough down the road that he can no longer see her.

"I can't believe you were giving me shit about smoking when you smoke too," I half tease, carefully watching her reaction. I don't know how to comfort a crying girl. Especially one that misses her dad. What did the Old Man do when I missed my dad?

"I can't believe you're making me stay at your crummy bachelor pad instead of the nice house Dad offered for you to stay in." Well, I guess she's not as worked up as Takeda. That's good.

I shrug my shoulders, pulling my pack out of my apron pocket. "It's closer to the school than your house. Besides, I figured you would want to sleep in instead of waking up at the crack of dawn to come to the store with me. Smoke?" I ask, tipping my open pack toward her.

     She carefully eyes it for a moment before looking up at me. "Five seconds without my Dad and already trying to set me up?"

     I shrug my shoulders, not entirely sure what to say as I take a cigarette from the pack. "I might not condone your habits but I understand them. Having an absent parent weighs heavy on the soul."

     Again, Takeda's 'Cupcake' eyes me before slowly pulling a cigarette from the pack as well. In a swift movement, I snap my pack closed and drop it back into my pocket. "Don't tell your dad," I grumble, fishing out my lighter. She nods in agreement, letting the roll of paper and tobacco rest between her lips. I cup the end of the stick before flicking the lighter on, letting the fire rest for a second before pulling away to do the same to mine.

     I carefully watch her for a moment, observing the way she easily inhales the smoke before letting it leak out the corners of her mouth. It's a weird comparison. Such a young girl wrapped in a baby blue sundress, dripping in silver jewelry, and fading pink-tipped hair easily smoking a menthol cigarette. "You're just all sorts of issues, aren't you?" I ask, finally taking a drag of my smoke.

     "What makes you say that?"

     "'No drinking. No smoking. No weed. No boys,'" I mimic Takeda, pitching my voice higher to poke fun at my friend. "Plus the whole... Mom situation."

     The girl rolls her eyes, her anger showing through in the way she sharply inhales her cigarette. "My Dad is a very anxious squirrel."

     "A very anxious squirrel," I echo, finding enjoyment in the comparison.

     She slowly nods her head in agreement, her eyes twirling in tune with the line of smoke swimming in the sky. "I occasionally smoke a little weed because it helps with the anxiety he gave me. It freaks him out. He thinks it's a gateway drug. Smoking is a bad habit I picked up on because of my 'oral fixation' as my therapist calls it. The drinking is just a high school party thing, you know?"

     "Ya," I murmur, memories of my high school days running through my mind. I went to a party almost every weekend. Went to a game or practice hangover more times than I'd like to admit to. She shakes her head again, ashing the end of her smoke before sucking in more of the smoke. "And the 'boys' thing?"

     I watch carefully as her jaw flexes, clenching and unclenching as she thinks over her words. "My boyfriend... my ex-boyfriend thought getting his dick sucked in the bathroom was a good way to spend time at the last party we went to together. So, I've spent the last two weeks flirting with his teammates."

     I bite my tongue to hold back my laughter. The task gets harder when Takeda's Mini-Me shrugs her shoulders with a smile. "It's whatever. I win in the end seeing how some of his teammates are coming to my art exhibit tomorrow. I'm going to suck his greatest hated teammate off in the bathroom. I'll sure enjoy that. A get-back and a cute boy fumbling with his words? Beautiful."

     "I can't let you do that," I tell her, managing to keep any humor out of my voice. The kid might have gotten Takeda's anxiety but she definitely got his optimism too. I've never seen a girl so joyful after a breakup.

     "Why not?" She asks, smoke curling around her words.

     That baby face of hers almost makes me want to rip the cigarette from her fingers, stomp the flame out, and yell at her for smoking, but I can't, seeing how I'm the one who gave her the smoke. "I'm responsible for you all weekend. I don't think your Dad would approve of you giving blowies to begin with, let alone on school grounds."

     "I don't think he'd approve of his best friend standing outside his shop to share a smoke with me either."

     What a little shit.

—————————————

Takeda's Mini-Me has her nose buried in her phone as we walk the path toward the gym. From the rate of her nails - painted in a shade of pink to match her dying hair color - she's probably texting about 'her dad's mean friend that's forcing her to attend the boys' volleyball practice'.

     I'm not dumb. I'm still young enough to think like a teenager. I knew if I left her in the apartment above the store, or heaven forbid at the store with Shimada, she would have found a way to sneak out. So, two meltdowns and fifteen minutes late to practice later, I'm playing lookout so she doesn't run into a wall.

     Why won't she put the damn phone down and watch where she's going? Since Mini-Me's little art exhibit confession, a weird knot has balled up in my stomach, only promising to come undone when I one, find this ex-boyfriend of hers and make him cry until I'm sure his tears outweigh any she's shed for the scum, and two, find this 'cute teammate' she plans to hookup with tomorrow.

     My body jerks forward, quickly sliding the gym door open before the child runs straight into them. Silent curses weigh on my tongue as she slides past me and into the gym. At least she's aware enough to kick her shoes off by the door. It's good to know she's just empty-minded, not oblivious.

     "What the fuck are you doing here?" Tsukishima's voice rings out, heavily drowned in venom.

     The question is enough to finally get Mini-Me to snap her head up, her phone left forgotten in her hand. Panic flickers across her face before a deep frown sets in. "I thought it would be fun to see if Mei was still around."

     My middle blocker tenses at the namedrop, ready to bite back with more venom before he gets cut off. "Just kidding," Mini-Me says, her voice light with tease as a cool but loose smile replaces her frown. "Dad got me a babysitter for the weekend," she answers correctly, motioning to me.

     "Tsuki?" Yamaguchi calls, settling behind his friend with a hand on his shoulder.

     "I'm fine. Let's finish stretching," the taller of the pair grumbles, shrugging the hand off his shoulder.

     My eyes flicker between Tsukishima and Takeda's daughter a few times before letting the exchange roll off my back. They go to school together so it's probably just academic rivalry or some other stupid thing they're fighting over.

     "How cute," Mini pokes, tapping her chin with her phone as she watches my players. "It's nice to see your boyfriend is still around to comfort you. Does he suck your dick now too?"

     Definitely not academic rivalry. I was so wrong. "Alright!" I yelp, lunging forward to grab the girl's shoulders. Her eyes tear away from Tsukishima, who's not even attempting to hide his glare, and Yamaguchi, who looks a little hurt by her words. "Please line up on the line. We're starting practice with ten flying laps."

     The knot tightens as I glance down at my friend's daughter. Her face is blank but her eyes are blinking rapidly, the blue glow of her phone empathizing the wetness of her eyes. I take a peak at the screen, the name Mei bold at the top as she reads over the last text sent. It's dated two weeks ago, the message telling Mini-Me that the Mei girl was popping into the bathroom and would meet her in the kitchen in twenty.

My heart squeezes as the situation writes itself out for me. A cheating boyfriend, Tsukishima, and a back-stabbing friend, Mei. What a sucky situation. Even though frozen water drips down my rib cage for Takeda's daughter, angry flames lick at the knot in my stomach because of my middle blocker.

It's not my problem. I'm just a coach. They're just high schoolers. I just met the girl a few hours ago. It's not my place to get involved in the personal lives of my players or other students. This is anger Takeda should be feeling, not me. Mini-Me is my best friend's daughter, his problem, not mine -

"I changed my mind," The words spill out before I can stop them, fueled by my anger with Tsukishima. "The first years are going to do twenty flying laps, everyone else gets to do ten."

"What the hell," Kageyama grumbles, shaking out his leg as he takes his spot on the line.

Yamaguchi snaps his head toward his friend, trying to read his emotions to appropriately respond. Tsukishima rolls his eyes before shooting Mini-Me a glare. The pointed look makes my fingers burn both with the want to hide her behind me and shake my blocker until it knocks whatever screw is loose back into place. A quick glance toward my Goddaughter and the realization that she's too glued to her phone to notice the glare smothers some of my anger.

Goddaughter? She's not my Goddaughter. She's just... just my best friend's daughter... who's hurting... because her life sucks. That's not my problem, even if the want to protect her from all evil - the biggest one being my moody first year - is clawing at my heart and threatening to draw blood. I think I'm starting to understand Takeda's anxiety.

I take a few deep breaths and shake my shoulders before heading toward the boys, doing a mental tally of them. The boys are already wound up, teasing their underlings for getting more laps than them. Thirteen of my members are present, one missing from the lineup and making me redo my count a little closer this time.

Glasses Manager and Nervous Manager are on the stage sewing rips in the boys' jerseys.

Man-Bun.

Suga.

Captain.

Booster Seat.

Boldy.

Back Talker.

Yamaguchi Protection Squad: Member Two.

Sand Man.

Cheater.

Yamaguchi.

Hinata Keeper.

Hinata? Where's Hinata? How the hell is that the missing kid?

"Hinata?!" I shriek, snapping my eyes toward Kageyama. If anyone knows where the Energizer Bunny is, it's him. "Hinata!" I call again, my eyes wandering across the gym. My eyes land on Mini-Me, her laugh softly filtering over to me. Her fingers are busy twisting the rings on her fingers, eyes shiny with joy instead of sadness as she chats with my decoy.

New flames well in my stomach as I watch the two of them giggle, Mini-Me nervously playing with her rings as Hinata's cheeks slowly rival the color of his hair. I can feel my eye twitch as she reaches her hand out, cupping my player's cheek before plopping a kiss on his nose.

"Hinata!" I shriek, making him jump away from Takeda's daughter. "Line! Now! First-Years! Thirty laps!"

Well, I know who the cheater is, and now I know who the 'cute teammate' is too. I swear, I'm going to spend this practice tearing the two apart.

"Sorry Coach!" Shrimpy calls, jagging up to the line and taking his spot next to Kageyama. "I was saying hi to Takeda-Chan and didn't hear you call line up."

A sharp smile slices across my face as I inch closer to number ten, the want to scare him off and protect Mini-Me from ever looking like she did while staring at those texts washes through my veins. "If you ever," I softly hiss, keeping my tone low enough that only Hinata can hear me. "Touch Takeda-Chan, I promise you, I'll kill you and feed you to the pigs on the farm, okay? Do we have an understanding? Are we on the same page?"

Hinata's smile falls as he takes a nervous gulp, his head shaking quickly in agreement. "Yes, Sir."

"Great," I mutter, scrunching up my nose as I deepen my smile. "So glad you understand. Now!" I clap my hands together, pulling the players' attention to me. "Everyone gets to do forty laps because I decided I don't like any of you today. Go!" My eyes lag on Tsukishima, watching him throw himself across the floor.

What a little shit.

—————————————

I carefully count my players again, making sure none of them have snuck out the gym doors while I wasn't watching. Twelve exhausted boys lay stretched out on the gym floor, panting as heavily as their lungs will allow.

Did I go a little overboard? Perhaps, if you think adding a lap every time one of them lagged their sight on Mini-Me's goodies is 'overboard'.

Is Tsukishima dumber than I thought? Perhaps, considering he's glaring at her again. Is Hinata as dumb as a box of rocks? Perhaps, considering his hand is around her ankle as he talks to her.

I can't make them run or do any more flying laps because of Tsukishima. I might end up killing one of them, or worse, chase one off the team. I can't exactly punish them because Hinata is talking to Mini-Me either. She's the one who wandered over to his side and decided to squat down next to him. Though, he was the one dumb enough to grab hold of her ankle.

Every soft rub of his thumb against her skin adds kerosene to the flame of protection burning for her. I want to rip his hand off and feed it to the pigs. But, every soft giggle pulled from Mini-Me's lungs because of him adds a dose of water to the fire. Thank God I'm not a dad. I don't know how Takeda survives having a daughter. I've watched her for less than half a day and I already feel the grey hair setting in.

"Alright boys," I say calmly, my voice settled for the first time this practice. "Practice was a little rough today. Takeda-Chan has an art exhibit I'll be attending for your other Coach. Lucky for you twelve, I'm willing to make a deal. We won't be having practice tomorrow - "

I'm cut off by a round of cheers and exhausted excitement. "But!" I yell, managing to get them to quiet down again. "All you little shits have to attend. If even one of you doesn't show, we'll be having a practice like this again Sunday." That gets me a mix of responses, some happy with the deal and some whining that they don't want to attend.

"Ukai?!" Mini-Me calls, her arms thrown up in a 'what the fuck' gesture.

"The art club gets fifty percent of the commission, right? It's what your Dad would want."

She shakes her head in annoyance, standing up and walking away from Hinata to come throw another fit. "What the hell?" She hisses once she's close enough that I'm the only one that can hear her.

"Can't suck Hinata's dick if all his friends are around, can ya?" I whisper back, a bit smug with my failsafe plan.

"What are you? My Dad?"

"No, but I am his best friend which makes you as much my responsibility as his."

Mini-Me laughs, mirroring my cocky smile. "Tsukishima isn't going to show, which means Yamaguchi isn't either. He'd rather be hated by his team than support me."

I shrug my shoulders, not giving a shit what my cheating player decides to do with his Saturday. "Fine by me. The team can blame him when I run them into the ground on Sunday."

"Jokes on you," Mini-Me murmurs, her eyes flicking to the side. I follow her sight, my attention landing on Hinata sitting upright with his shirt pulled up to wipe the sweat off his face, a sliver of his stomach showing because of it. "I'll be stuck watching them practice again and personally," she leans closer to me, close enough to whisper in my ear. "I enjoy watching Hinata practice. I enjoy the aftermath even better though."

What a little fucking shit.

[13a07s]

Loosen Up #2

(Kenjiro Shirabu)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Toujou Sakana]

Requested by: The Ghost of Easter Past

[Idea inspired by a character drawling video on Pinterest; Made by eleeza. Here's the link: https://pin.it/13pr3efSy]

Drawling I Got

Classmate - Tendo

Mentor - Nishanoya

Lover - Shirabu

Rival - Yaku

Position - Libero

Best Friend - Tanaka

Sibling - Shirofuku

Team - Shiratorizawa

Childhood Friend - Kindaichi

Word Count: 4,543

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Sweetheart, Bitch, Darling, Babe

Spanking

Slight Misogyny

Mentions of Depression

Mentions of Divorce/Broken Home

———————————————————————

Kenjiro's hand rubs light lazy circles into my thigh as he stays stretched out on the floor. My back is pressed to his side, sitting propped up against him. Tendo is resting against me too, his arms loose around my hips and his head buried downward in my lap so I can do his hair.

Mornings like this are my favorite. Quiet. Soft. Comforting. The soft buzz of the boys getting ready, the team hovering around me as they prep for the day. Usually, the only time I get mornings like this is for away games or the occasional practice games at the colleges they practice with.

My hands routinely slide through Tendo's hair, the gel he uses feeling sticky on my fingers as I set his style. The middle blocker hums a tone as he drawls designs against the floor boards, paired with the soft beat of Kenjiro's breathing.

Ushijima hovers close by, preparing to jump into his friend's spot when I'm done. I find it adorable how needy the players act when I'm around, especially their captain.

A knock at the door interprets the calm demeanor, pulling everyone's attention toward the cracked door. My head tips backward in time to see Kindaichi slowly pushing it open, his eyes roaming the room. "Is Shiro-Chan around?"

"Good morning, 'Dai-Chan," I greet before turning back to the task at hand. I run my fingers through Tendo's hair a few more times before tapping the back of his neck, the silent sign that he's done. A quiet "thank you" comes, followed by a groan as he rolls off of me and settles on the floor. His head finds a home propped on an unhappy Kenjiro's shoulder.

Slowly, my childhood friend makes his way through the room, standing awkwardly in front of me as I wipe the gel off my fingertips. "Could you... um..." His cheeks are red as he repeatedly glances at my relaxed boyfriend. Aside from the cemented hand on my thigh, Kenjiro doesn't seem to care about the situation much. "Could you do my hair?" Kindaichi manages to ask, holding up his hair brush and a tub of the same hair gel he's used since elementary school.

"Sure. Come lay down."

A weight seems to lift from his chest as he gives me the product and settles on the ground. Kindaichi's position is similar to the one Tendo was holding. His chin rests on my empty thigh, an arm around my hip, and the other under neither him as he lays stomach-down on the floor.

Muscle memory kicks in as I work the knots out of his hair, my fingers gentle to not pull. Ushijima sinks to his knees on the floor next to me, joining the small dog pile going on, his eyes blinking as he watches me work. "Ushi," I murmur, glancing at him as I once over Kindaichi's hair with the brush again.

"Shirofuku-Chan," his monotoned voice whispers, his hand slowly dropping to my shoulder, the weight of it very evident. "I would like you to do my hair next."

"You don't style your hair," I point out, opening the tub before scooping some of the hair gel out of it.

"I am aware."

I glance to my side, looking over Ushijima as I start styling Kindaichi's hair, the younger boy's closed eyes and relaxed expression not going unnoticed by me. "Do you want me to brush your hair for you?" A groan I've come to learn is a yes comes from the captain, a soft squeeze being gifted to my shoulder before he's on his feet and off to go do whatever. Tendo jumps up from the floor too, hot on his friend's heels, and successfully divides the dog pile in half.

"Your sister seems off today," Kindaichi murmurs, flickering his eyes open for a moment before letting them close again. "She asked if I spoke to you last night after running into you outside. What's up with that?"

"What's up," Kenjiro starts with his hand back to rubbing circles around the inner part of my thigh. "Is that Yukie has a case of Nosey-Bitch-Syndrome."

"Kenjiro." I hiss, shooting him a warning glance.

"Sorry, Sweetheart," he murmurs, scooting around until he's laid against my leg instead of my back. His lips pepper over my thigh, pressing a handful of kisses to my skin. Since last night, he's loosened up a bit about the boys but like always, Kenjiro chose to carry my battle with him. This one being the catty fight with my sister prying into my life more than I'd like.

     "Oh," Kindaichi mutters, his muscles stiffening as Kenjiro sits upright.

     His eyes wander over my friend, his face blank but his eyes swirling with jealousy. Despite this, Kenjiro holds his tongue and leaves the situation alone. Instead, he chooses to sit on his knees next to me, his head face down as it weighs on my shoulder. "Maybe you should be a hairstylist."

     "The doctor and the beautician. That'll make for a nice pair," I tease, adding the finishing touches to 'Daichi's hair.

     "Doctor?" My friend asks, turning his head to look at the boy clinging to my side.

     "Ya, Shirabu wants to go to medical school after he graduates," I murmur, tapping the back of Kindaichi's neck before searching for my hand towel.

     "That's a big-bucks job."

     "I get to save lives and financially care for my Sweetheart?" Kenjiro butts in, snatching my wrist with one hand as he holds my towel in the other. He busies himself cleaning off my fingers for me. "Why wouldn't I try?"

     Kindaichi stays silent as he sits up, glancing over my boyfriend dotting on me. "You plan to stay with Shiro-Chan after high school?"

     Kenjiro freezes, blinking quickly as he slowly turns his head. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

     The other boy shrugs, finally pulling his eyes away from us. "A lot of relationships don't survive the college phase."

     "Ours will," my boyfriend hisses, snapping his head away and focusing on cleaning my hands again.

     "Not if you don't loosen up a bit. Your jealousy is going to be your downfall."

                     ————————————

     The kitchen is buzzing as me and the other managers rush around, preparing breakfast for the teams. I can feel Yukie's eyes on me, following me around the kitchen as she and the other Fukurodani manager prep meals for their players. Unlike the other teams, I'm the only manager Shiratorizawa has, so I have double the work to do. I don't mind much, especially since the boys are so understanding about it.

Even though I don't mind, Yukie keeps insisting she and the other managers can help me cook. I keep turning her down, partly because I don't want her help and partly because I enjoy buzzing around in the kitchen, moving how I please, and doing things how I want. I can't move as freely or keep track of the boys' different diets as easily with someone else sticking their hands into the mix.

The door swings open, pulling my attention away from the pot of Miso Soup I'm cooking. Kenjiro comes strolling in, looking pissier than usual. Noya and Tanaka come in right after him, yapping off their heads about my boyfriend "asking the leash holder for permission."

As soon as I'm at arm's length, Kenjiro wraps himself around me, arms hanging loose on my hips, his body pressed against mine, and his chin resting on top of my head. "Your lovely friends and some of their Karasuno buddies want to go on a run before breakfast."

     My stomach flutters with butterflies. "All my friends?" He hums a yes, his head falling to press kisses into my shoulder. The butterflies flap harder at his answer. I know Kenjiro can't stand my friends but knowing he's willingly going on a run with Noya, Tanaka, and Kindaichi warms my chest. "You don't have to."

     "I know," he murmurs, his kisses steadily making their way up my neck. "But they're your friends and I was a bit of a dick yesterday." His lips settle right next to my ear, his soft breathing tickling me. "You deserve me trying to get my jealousy under control. You deserve me trying to loosen up." A kiss is pressed to the back of my ear before he pulls away, not so discreetly spanking my ass as he heads back towards the door. "I'll see you at breakfast, Sweetheart."

     "See you at breakfast," I echo, heat caressing my face from the spanking as my ass stings from the left imprint of his hand.

     My friends snicker as Kenjiro breezes past them, heading back to the dining room. Once my boyfriend is out of the room, their attention is on me. "So, Kenjiro likes your ass, hm?" Tanaka teases, his eyebrows jumping as he and Noya flitter through the kitchen.

     "He's a little more... intimate without his teammates or coaches around," I slowly confess, turning back toward the soup so the boys can't see the blush turning me red.

     "I think it's cute," Noya chirps, wrapping an arm around my waist as he peaks into the pot I'm focused on. "I can't wait to have a Mamas of my own. When I get one, I'm sure as shit going to smack her ass every chance I get."

     Tanaka settles on my other side, mirroring his friend's position. Arm around my waist and nose poking over the side of the pot. "What are you cooking?"

     "Miso soup with tofu, seaweed, and mushrooms. It's Coach Washijo's favorite."

The boys turn up their noses at my statement, Tanaka visibly jerking at the mention of Kenjiro's coach. "That old man has a heart enough to have a favorite anything?" He mutters, shaking his head in disbelief.

     "Yes, I do," the Coach bursts in, jerking our attention to the door he just walked through. The quick fall of and terror coating Tanaka's face is enough to make me laugh. The sound makes the corner of Washijo's lip curve up half a centimeter before his frown is firmly pressed back in place. "Now, if you Karasuno boys could say your goodbyes and give me Shiratorizawa's team manager back, I would appreciate it."

The two of them quickly hug me, a kiss being plopped on each of my cheeks before they part. Quick "Goodbye"s are shouted over their shoulders as they race out of the kitchen and back into the dining room, mimicking the route Kenjiro took.

Coach shakes his head at the boys, slowly waddling his way over to me. "Hello, Darling," the words come out rough and coated in anger, like everything he says, but the nickname is still sweet. "The boys insisted since Shirabu is going on a run, I should come to assist you with this... women's work," he grumbles, the words seeming bitter on his tongue. Despite his usual displeasure written on his face, it falls a bit when he catches a whiff of the soup.

"Um... I guess you can fry the eggs," I mutter, walking away to search for the cast iron skillet I have touched away in one of the cabinets. "Ushi gets four, Soekawa only gets two, Semi and Shirabu get one," I ramble on, trying to do the mental math of how many eggs we need. "It's all written on the whiteboard over there," I tell him, waving at the large board hanging on the wall.

It's not unusual for the boys to spend the weekend at the cabin because of their packed volleyball schedule. Over the countless months, I've found it easier to leave their diet plans and preferences written around the kitchen instead of trying to remember it all.

Coach nods slowly, settling in front of the stove once I place the skillet down. "I think I can handle counting and frying eggs, Darling."

"I know, Coach," I softly giggle, plopping a kiss on his cheek before I flutter away to pull the eggs and the fresh vegetables from the fridge.

The blush that flashes across Washijo's face doesn't go unnoticed by me, tugging a smug smile onto my lips. It's been a slow transition for him, adjusting to having a female manager instead of a male one, but he's been doing better than expected. "Aside from cooking our other meals, do you have any plans today?"

"Well, after the kitchen and dining room is cleaned up I'll help you with the boys stretches like usual. Then I'll have to go through the inventory and see what all the other teams ate and talk to their managers and such so I know what to get at the market. I also need to start planning the last day picnic but I wanted to wait until everyone got here. Diets and allergies and such," I ramble on, Coach slowly nodding as he starts the eggs.

As my monologue continues, I catch a peak of a pissy Yukie sliding out of the kitchen, walking away like she's on a mission. I guess Kenjiro and I aren't the only ones that need to loosen up.

                     ————————————

     "You need to spread your legs a little more," I order Akakura, using my foot to split his further apart. "If you keep them so tight under you, you're going to fly backward when you try to receive. A wide base is a strong base."

"Got it," Buzz-cut murmurs, letting me slide his feet around.

Yamagata hovers nearby, impatiently waiting for my attention. It's a constant war between the two liberos, always fighting over my time and attention. The older of the two is handling the situation worse, not liking the adjustment of having my full attention last year and now having to share it.

"Alright, let's try again," I mutter, picking the ball off the ground before tossing it to Ushijima who's waiting on the other side of the net. He catches it without an issue, standing still as he waits for me to move out of the way.

"Remember, don't be afraid of the floor. Bruises are sexy, babe!" I encourage the first year, taking my spot next to Yamagata.

"Do you think my bruises are sexy?" The third-year libero teases, knocking his elbow into my arm.

"Absolutely not," I tease, dropping the smile from my face and replacing it with a frown. "You couldn't look sexy with a potato sack over your face."

Yamagata chuckles, wrapping his arm around my neck to pull me into his side. "Sorry, I forgot you're only attracted to setters with bad haircuts."

"Maybe look in the mirror before you make fun of haircuts, Tokoyami-Want-To-Be." A teasing pout settles on his lips, chin on my head as we watch Akakura shrink the space between his feet as he lunges for the ball.

As I called, the kid gets knocked backward when Ushijima's serve makes contact with his arms. Before he knows it, the libero in the making is rolled backward a time or two before landing on his back. "Fuck! That hurt!" The kid complains, letting himself lie on the ground as he catches his breath.

"Shiratorizawa! Five flying laps! No cursing!" Coach Washijo yells from across the room.

The order is followed by a round of groans with a few "Way to go Akakura"s littered in the mix. Yamagata grumbles as he lets me go, walking over to join his team in front of their Coach.

I stay put, watching the boys throw themselves across the gym floor for their punishment. All of their faces - well, besides Akakura's upset-ness and Ushijima's usual stone expression - are coated in annoyance with their teammate. Their pissiness only adds to my joy of watching them act like flopping fish on land.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" Someone asks from next to me.

"Sure, what's up?" I answer before turning my head toward the person. My face drops instantly at the sight of a wearily smiling Yaku at my side. "What do you want?"

"I didn't get to say hi yesterday so... uh... hi."

"Hello," I snap back, turning to walk away from him.

"Hey, wait! I want to talk to you," Yaku yelps, shooting forward to snatch my wrist.

My eyes snap closed as a long, angry exhale is pushed out of my nose, trying to simmer down my anger. Where's Kenjiro's jealousy when I need it? Oh, ya. Doing flying laps because Akakura can't watch his mouth. Once my anger is under wraps, I slowly turn around, facing Yaku again. "What do you want?"

Yaku's eyes are wide as they spill down me, his thumb buried under my bracelets and rubbing designs into my wrist. It's a small motion, one he used to do a lot in middle school. One I picked up on after we stopped hanging around each other. Maybe that's why Kenjiro does it because he noticed me doing it all the time.

"Your hair looks good. It used to be shorter but the length suits you too. You always looked nice with short hair though."

"Hair grows with time," I mutter, my eyes snapping around the gym, looking for Kenjiro in the sea of Shiratorizawa players flying across the floor. "Do you have anything to actually say or are you just filling time?"

Yaku stays quiet for a moment, swirling his thumb across my skin a few more times before dropping his hold on me. "I guess... I just... Thank you."

"Thank you?" I ask, slowly blinking as I try to figure out what I'm being thanked for.

     "Ya," he whispers, letting out a huff as he shakes his head, acting like the action will shake off the heat coating his cheeks. "I know you've been keeping up with my career. Not in an I'm being cocky way," he rushes out, waving his hands around in front of himself. "Nishinoya mentioned you've been keeping tabs on all the liberos you know."

     It's my turn to be doused in embarrassment. It's true, that I've been watching the career of my old rivals and training partners. Mostly from curiosity and pride, but a bit of envy is tucked between the folds of my emotions as well. Reluctantly, I've let Yaku be one of the people I keep tabs on too. "So?"

     "So," he says slowly, scratching the back of his head as he looks anywhere but me. "Thank you. You know, for not bringing up everything from middle school. I'm sure it would taint my image a lot. Not that I'm trying to hide it from anyone. I do still feel bad and I'm still incredibly sorry that it's my fault your career ended just as it started."

     "But... um... Shirabu seems to be really into you and from the way the other Shiratorizawa players talk about you, it seems they're all head over heels for you in one way or another. Not that I'm trying to tell you how to bring light to your - "

     "I know," I cut him off, letting out another sigh. This one's light, like hearing the end of my life goals weighing on Yaku just as much as me makes it a little less terrible. Does that make me a bad person? Probably. "I am thankful for Kenjiro and the others though, so... I guess thank you to you too."

     Yaku stares at me for a moment, confusion and disbelief coating his face. It slowly melts into a soft smile though, a ting of calmness weighed on his expression. "Do you mind checking my stance for me? You were always the best at that and I don't have another libero on the team to call me on my shit. Coach seems to think I need to loosen up my stance but I think he's wrong about that."

     "Sure, I wouldn't mind."

                     ————————————

     My fingers seem to flex at their will, trying to calm my nerves as I wait outside for the others to join. A run with a mix of the boys, most notably my Sweetheart's lineup of friends wasn't my idea. It just fell into my lap when Karasuno's short redhead mentioned going on a longer run than usual since he's not in the mountains for the week.

     Before I knew it, a packed mix of all the teams' different members, me included, had plans to go running. I don't want to be here. I don't want to spend time with Karasuno's spiked hair 'Mamas' and Karasuno's loud mouth 'Babe' and especially not Johsai's 'sleepover' want-to-be ace.

     I hate them all. I envy them all. Nishinoya got to see my Sweetheart play. Actually play, not the small bloopers of her helping us train. Tanaka was there at her lowest when she was struggling to start high school without getting to be on a volleyball team. When she was struggling in one of the darkest parts of her depression. Kindaichi was there while her home life was falling apart. When her parents split. When her whole life changed. When she got tested and diagnosed with her illness.

     Maybe it's selfish of me, to be so angry that they got to see her broken pieces. That they got my Sweetheart when she was cracked. That they got to help piece her back together. That they have parts of her I'll never have, never experience.

     That our paths didn't cross until she was melted back together and made of nothing but love and sunshine, with nothing more than a few storm clouds on bad days. Storm clouds that she has down to a routine on how to handle. Maybe it's just me being a sadist, being so upset that I didn't get to see her progress from the lowest parts of her life to the steady understanding she has of it now.

     Maybe I really do need to loosen up a bit. She has a support system. Shouldn't I be happy about that? That my Sweetheart has people that are willing to care about her? People that have stuck by her side through all the bad.

     "If you clench your fists any tighter you're going to snap a bone. I would hate to see what Washijo does with a broken setter."

     My head snaps up, my fists loosen and the anger melts off my face as I look for the source of the sound. Yukie, my girlfriend's older sister, is poking out the door, a small smug smile on her face. She pisses me off too, this time for my Sweetheart instead of because of my Sweetheart. I don't know much about their relationship, other than what I saw yesterday and that there's tension because of the sides of their parents' divorce they took.

     "He'd bitch my whole recovery and then throw me back on the court expecting perfection on the first day back," I honestly answer, toning it as a joke. Washijo is a jack on his best days and a straight tyrant on his worst. "I guess that's something you two have in common."

     The smugness falls off the older girl's face as she pushes herself the rest of the way out the door. "What's that supposed to mean?" She asks, settling on the steps with her arms crossed.

     "Your sister isn't a scared five-year-old anymore who can't understand why Mommy and Daddy are so mad at each other or why they're so mean to you and her. She doesn't need you approving every aspect of her life to make sure it falls into grace on your parents' radars."

     "You don't know anything about us, let alone our parents, and from the way you're so set on wedging yourself between my sister and her friends, I'm guessing you don't know much about them either," she answers back, her tone calm and matter-of-fact.

     "I know enough to know they're important. To know the fact that I'm going on a run with them makes her happy. That I need to try and 'loosen up' as you all keep saying and let go of my jealousy."

     Yukie stands there for a few minutes, the two of us in silence as she rolls over my words. "I don't want to see her hurt again. Her... our mother uses her illness and her support system as an insult enough without some teenager with control issues and the want to get his dick wet doing the same. I'm not going to sit back and let you do the same thing. Her heart is too big to be able to see the difference between poison and water."

     "I know," I mutter, the few situations I've seen between my girlfriend and her mom flickering through my head. It's part of the reason I'm so set on being a doctor. I want to be able to afford the help she needs without a second thought about money. I want to be able to get her out and into a healthier environment. To see her flourish more than she can at the moment.

     "Not that it's any of your business, seriously, but I think she's beautiful in her illness." Yukie's mouth snaps open, ready to respond before I cut her off. "I know it's messed up. I know. I shouldn't be romanticizing depression, but it's true. My Sweetheart is beautiful on her off days. I just..."

     I shake my head as the memories from my Sweetheart's last off day run over me. "Getting to see how strong she is. Seeing her fall apart and watching her put the parts back together. Holding her as she cries her eyes out and then watching her smile and care for my teammates an hour later. It just..."

     I slowly blink the tears in my eyes away before turning toward Yukie. "She's not a broken child anymore that needs her Big Sis to protect her from the world. She's got everything under control. She doesn't need you telling her everything she's doing 'wrong'. You're only making shit worse."

     Again, Yukie opens her mouth to respond, this time getting cut off by the door swinging open. My least favorite pair of Karasuno crows walk out, the cocky want-to-be ace of Aboa Johsai right behind them.

     "Oh, Shirabu-Chan," Tanaka coos, teasing me like always. "The other boys need five more minutes than we're heading out. I hope that doesn't upset you and your bad haircut," he continues to softly mutter, fluttering his eyelashes at me. "We wouldn't want you getting jealous that Shiro-Chan has even more time to hang out with other boys."

     I roll my shoulders, trying to settle the mix of anger rolling onto my tongue. Why does my Sweetheart have to have the most annoying of friends? "It's fine," I manage to push out, shifting my weight to my other foot. "I know she's not going to do anything. Some time without me clinging to her would probably do some good anyway."

"Damn," Kindaichi mutters, his head tilted as he sizes me up for the millionth time. "Shiro-Chan wasn't kidding about you loosening up today." I swear I'm going to knock the first year's teeth out if I don't get kicked out of camp for fighting Yaku first.

"No one knows me as well as my Sweetheart."

———————————————————————

[13a07s]

wait I didn’t mean to send the link again🙈 make sure you share to the orginal creator on Pinterest

I gave them credit and posted the link. I make sure to credit anything I use that isn’t originally mine.

[13a07s]

Master List

Keys:

• Romance

• Platonic

• Smut

• Angst

• Idk What To Tag It

• In The Works

[——] - Series Part Listed Elsewhere

———————————————————————

Tobio Kageyama:

• Chest Pains

• Greedy

• I Can, So I Will

Shoyo Hinata:

• My Everything #1

• My Everything #2

• Spoiled #1

• Spoiled #2

Daichi Sawamura:

• Her Closet

Kei Tsukishima:

• Incompetent

Tadashi Yamaguchi:

• My Moon

Yu Nishinoya:

• Ariadne to My Dionysus

Koshi Sugawara:

• Ovulation Week

Kentaro Kyotani:

• Nail Appointment

Asahi Azumane:

• You Deserve Better

Tooru Oikawa:

• Cost You

Tetsuro Kuroo:

• Actions Are Indefinite

Kenma Kozume:

• Nothing Sweeter Than Sugar

Keishin Ukai:

• My Home

• What a Little Shit

Kenjiro Shirabu:

• Loosen Up #1

• Loosen Up #2

Wakatoshi Ushijima:

• As You Wish #1

• As You Wish #2

• Buddy

———————————————————————

[13a07s]

Loosen Up #1

(Kenjiro Shirabu)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to rainbowstrucklizard]

Requested by: Myself, I guess

[Idea inspired by a character drawling video on Pinterest; Made by eleeza. Here's the link: https://pin.it/13pr3efSy]

Drawling I Got

Classmate - Tendo

Mentor - Nishanoya

Lover - Shirabu

Rival - Yaku

Position - Libero

Best Friend - Tanaka

Sibling - Shirofuku

Team - Shiratorizawa

Childhood Friend - Kindaichi

Word Count: 4,219

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Bruises

Name Calling: Mamas, Babe, Baby, Sweetheart

Toxic Jealousy

Lack of Relationship Boundaries

Divorce/Broken Home

Little heated in the second section

Part Two to Come

After going through this again, I realize I misspelled his name like 90 times but I’m too lazy to fix it

———————————————————————

     Kenjiro's fingers squeeze my wrist again, gripping me harder than before. My eyes flicker down, glancing at the connection between us. Old bruises are coated on my skin, hidden under my rubber bracelets and his fingers. He slowly pulls my wrist, moving his touch further down my arm to brush kisses across the darkened skin. He barely looks at me as his eyes trail to the parking lot.

     I don't know what his obsession with my wrists is. It's probably a setter thing. At least that's what the rest of the Shiratorizawa players tell me.

     The boys are steering with the arrival of the rest of the teams invited to the training camp. It's going to be a long week with us, Aboa Johsai, Nekoma, Karasuno, and Fukurodani all jammed into one gym. Coach Washijo agreeing to host a training camp is nervous enough without so many people I know being around. I know that's what has Kenjiro on edge. On the plus side, everyone knows Ushijima's recent 'lack of enjoyment' during practices is why we're hosting a training camp.

     Disgust, excitement, and anticipation swirl in my stomach as I watch the sprouts of Karasuno black and Nekoma red mix in the parking lot, the two arriving teams greeting each other. The boys, the coaches, and I sit in the gym, waiting. The team is supposed to be stretching as the coaches and I oversee their work.

     That's not what's happening. The boys are half-assing their stretches, Kenjiro fully lying on the gym floor as he dots my wrist in kisses. The coaches are huddled by the door, glancing out as much as their players, watching as the two teams filter toward the gym.

     "Don't," Kenjiro starts, pulling my ping-ponging sight away from the other teams. "Don't be all... all huggy on Tanaka and Nishinoya... or whatever," he mutters, nipping at my wrist before he drops it onto his chest. His fingers keep flexing around the bone, not so calmly keeping it pressed against himself.

     I watch him for a beat, trying to read the expression he's trying to keep off his face. Kenjiro is a jealous person. A very jealous person. Jealousy that shines through whenever Karasuno is around, more specifically, their hot-headed winged spiker with a concerning infatuation with his manager and my old training partner that's a little touchy about his height.

     I lean over, letting my elbow dig into his side to prop myself up as I bend over Kenjiro. "I'm with you, Shirabu," I murmur, his last name feeling heavy on my tongue. It feels weird referring to him in such a way, but I want to be respectful to him while the other teams are here.

     "I know," he whispers, keeping his eyes focused on messing with my bracelets.

     "Do you?" I ask, inching closer to brush my lips against his.

     "Ya." The word comes out as a hiccup, Kenjiro's focus flickering between my eyes and my lips. I slowly move further down, closing the tiny gap with a light kiss. It doesn't stay light for long, his hands jumping up to bury themselves in my hair, pulling me closer, and into a deeper kiss. "I know," he repeats his agreement when we separate, his touch going gentle, fingertips sliding through the strands of my hair.

     "Don't listen to him," one of the other boys cut in, breaking the gentle moment between us and catching our attention. "I give it twenty minutes tops until Youngin's fist is in Tanka's face. If not Tanaka, then definitely Yaku's," Tendo teases, the redhead smirking with his teeth poking through his grin.

     "It was one time," Kenjiro hisses, jerking the two of us up and into a sitting position. Both his hands settle around my wrists, pushing my flattened palms against his chest as his thumbs rub against my bruises.

     "Ya, one time every chance you get to knock Nekoma's libero around," Tendo keeps on the issue, giggling at his personal reminder of the heat between Yaku and me that Kenjiro chooses to carry with himself as well.

     In middle school, during a co-op volleyball fundraiser between Chidoriyama and Ushimi, Yaku and I had a nasty run-in during a match. The little shit was too confident in himself, ignoring my call for the ball and diving for it anyway. I got banged around a bit and ended up with a concussion. My fourth concussion to be exact, which with advice, more like orders, from my doctors, ended my days as a volleyball player.

     Over the past two years, I've tried to let it go. To convince myself that it wasn't Yaku's fault. That it was an accident. That there's no one to blame. To talk about my feelings and thoughts about no longer being able to play volleyball full-time. To convince myself that I'm happy just being a manager. Some days it's true, and I feel at peace with what happened and where it landed me.

Other days I can't feel anything except sadness and rage at my future plans being ripped from my hands and shredded right in front of me. Days I feel so much anger with Yaku and his over-confidence that it makes me sick to my stomach. Having him around swings things toward the worse more than the better.

"Leave it alone, Tendo. It's a hard enough day on Shirofuku-Chan without you opening old wounds," the team's captain - Ushijima's - monotoned voice butts in, a warning hand gripping his middle blocker's shoulder.

"There's no old wounds to open," I murmur, trying to keep the venom out of my voice. It's hard to do so while glaring at Yaku rubbing up to Nishinoya right outside the gym doors.

"You heard the lady," Kenjiro butts in, jumping to his feet before helping me off the floor too. "No old wounds, so let's focus on the training camp," he tells the older boys, his tone a bit snipping as his hand finds its way back around my wrist.

"Alright," Tendo purrs, ignoring his Captain's physical warning. He wraps his arm around Ushijima's neck, as relaxed as ever. "As long as you focus on your dick going into our manager and not the possibility of Karasuno's libero and spiker playing Effie tower. Oh, or maybe some hate sex between Yaku and Shirofuku-Chan. Steamy."

Kenjiro snaps his head around, face suffocating in anger, and his mouth snapping open to respond. He doesn't get the chance too though.

"Thank you for having us!" The two visiting teams greet us, splotches of black and red sprayed across the room as they bow to us.

"Thank you for coming!" We greet them in return, offering bows of our own to them.

When I'm back standing straight, Tanaka is halfway across the gym already and Nishinoya is a step ahead of him. "Shirofuku-Chan!" They both scream, their attack locked on me.

"Boys," I yelp in return, sidestepping Noya's attempt to body slam me.

Kenjiro happily takes me into his hold, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against himself. "Boys," he grumbles, eyes and fingertips caught on messing with my bracelets again.

"Hello, Shirabu-Chan," the two of them say in unison, their tones airy and teasingly sweet as they greet my boyfriend. "I hope you've been treating my star pupil right," Noya half-teases, half-pries. He doesn't take any of Kenjiro's jealousy shit, eagerly hugging me despite the tight hold I'm in. "Has he been treating you right, Mamas?" He asks, a hand cupping my chin and jerking my head back and forth, scanning for destress he's not going to find.

"He's been treating me prefect," I start, pulling Noya's hand off my face. "And I've told you a hundred times, stop calling me Mamas. It's disrespectful to Shirabu."

His smile weavers a bit, eyes coating over me for more signs of possible crimes he can accuse my boyfriend of. "I just want to make sure you're taken care of is all. An old friend looking out," Noya mutters, jerking my arm up to glance over the bruises dusting my wrists. "Are you playing again?" He asks, aiming the question at Kenjiro.

"No," I whisper, jerking my arm away from him and snuggling into Kenjiro's tighter hold. "I help Akakura practice and such. The whole libero thing, you know?"

"Mamas - "

"Nothing serious," I cut him off, already bracing for the lecture Nishinoya is preparing. "Just some passes and such. Besides, you know Kenjiro has his whole nervous - "

"Habit of littering you in bruises," my old training partner butts in, his eyebrows pushed together and jaw locked. Noya and Kenjiro have always butted heads, the two closest boys in my life both believing they know what's best for me. "I don't know about Shirabu, but I know I'd never leave my woman with - "

"That's enough, buddy." Tanaka wraps his arm around his best friend, holding Noya in a headlock before giving him a nuggey.

"Get off you big lug!" Noya shrieks, trying to fight his way out of the hold. "You're going to mess up my hair."

"And you're going to piss off Shirabu and more importantly, Shirofuku-Chan by throwing accusations like that around. Shiro-Chan is a tough cookie. She'd beat Shirabu's ass for even thinking about laying a hand on her, ain't that right, babe?" Tanaka sends me a wink, finally letting his friend go.

Nishinoya puffs his chest out after he recovers from his stumble, his hands busy trying to fix his hair. "Thanks, Tanka, now I have to go find a bathroom to fix my hair in." He turns his attention to me for a second, darting forward to give me a side hug and a kiss on my cheek. "Love ya, Mamas. I'll see you in a bit." The second half comes out more as a threat than a parting, the words sharp and aimed at my boyfriend.

Kenjiro lets the empty threat roll off his back, his focus on rubbing the non-evident kiss off my cheek.

     "Stop freaking out, dude," Tanka grumbles, gripping my arms and pulling me away from my boyfriend. "Hey Babe," he greets, crushing me in a bear hug. "We've missed your spark around the gym and Noya is getting a little too comfortable with none of the first years being a threat to his position."

"Ya, well, she belongs at Shiratorizawa, and it's where she's going to stay," Kenjiro hisses, gripping my wrists to pull me away from Tanka and back to being pressed against himself. His hands wander over me, brushing my clothing like the spiker left a layer of dust on me or something. "And stop calling her Babe. Nishinoya and you don't know how to respect boundaries."

     Tanaka throws his hands up in defeat, taking slow steps away from me. "Sorry, Dude. You know we don't mean anything by it. Just greeting a friend and all." The grin on his face only pisses Kenjiro off more. "Loosen up a bit, would you? Neither of us wants anything to do with your girl. I'll talk to Noya about back off the nicknames. Will that chill you out?"

     I hold my breath, my eyes flickering between Tanaka's calm demeanor and Kenjiro’s jump-started jealousy. It's going to be a very long week if this keeps up. I tip my head backward, resting it on my boyfriend's shoulder. "Baby?" Slowly, his head tips down, eyes tearing away from my friend to look down at me. I stretch up higher, standing on my tippy toes so our lips brush when I speak. "They're just friends, promise. I'm with you."

     Kenjiro softly sighs, brushing a kiss to my lips before burying his head against my neck. "I know, I know, I know. Sorry, Sweetheart." Reluctantly, he pulls back from me, his fingertips lagging on my wrist before he pulls that away too. "Go say bye to your friend before we go to join the rest of the team." His words come out sharp, hesitant, and drowning in jealousy, but he's trying, which I appreciate.

I keep my movements slow as I head toward Tanka, trying not to show too much excitement. "Hey Ba - er - Shiro-Chan," Tanka murmurs, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and stamping a kiss on my forehead. "Good to see the Shi-ters are treating you well."

"Watch it," Kenjiro yelps, arms crossed over his chest as the want to rip me away from my friend burns across his skin.

"Whatever," Tanka murmurs, plopping another kiss on my forehead before pulling away. "I should go find Noya."

"Probably," I say lightly, rubbing my hands on my shorts. "See you guys in a bit."

The second Tanka steps away, Kenjiro is wrapped around me again, rubbing at my forehead as he lets his frame engulf me. "I'm sorry. I'm trying, really trying to be cool about them being here. About them touching up on you."

"It was just greetings. Besides, you didn't threaten Tanaka this time so I'm counting it as a win. Just loosen up. Trust me, Baby. I'm not leaving you."

"I know."

————————————

My giggles and the sound of our kisses swim in the darkness outside the gym. The fluorescent lights melt out the windows and add a bit of color to the darkened grass under our feet. Kenijiro’s hands are all over me. In my hair, under my shirt, toying with the wire of my bra, tugging on the waistband of shorts, toying with the electric of my panties.

     I jerk my head to the side, his lips crashing with my cheek instead of my mouth. "Sweetheart," he whimpers, thrusting his hips against me. "Come on, this is the first time I've gotten you alone for more than five seconds. Give me some kisses."

     "I'll give you kisses, but I'm not going to let you fuck me against the gym wall."

     Kenjiro whines, his lips turning their attention to attack my neck. "Why not, Sweetheart?"

     "Because she's not a street corner girl."

     We both freeze at the sound of a voice that doesn't belong to either of us. What we're doing isn't technically wrong. Incredibly embarrassing and definitely grounds for Coach Washijo to lecture us about 'being distracted' again, but not wrong per se.

We both slowly turn our heads toward the back door we snuck out of, taking a peak to see who's intruding on us. "Your sister is inside tearing the place apart looking for you," Kindaichi - the kid that lived next door during my younger years - teases. "Should I tell her Shiratorizawa's setter is outside feeling you up or?"

"Uh... Sweetheart? Who's that?" Kenjiro murmurs, his eyes snapping between the two of us.

"An old friend."

Kindaichi gasps at my explanation, placing a hand over his heart and one against his forehead. "An old friend? I thought we were more than that, Shiro-Chan. After all, you slept at my house more than your own. I think that earns me at least the best friend title."

"Tanka holds my best friend title."

"What," Kenjiro yelps, snapping his attention back to me. His hands lock around my wrists like always as he takes a step closer, squashing me against the wall again. "The hell are you doing spending the night at a Johsai spiker's house?"

"I haven't stayed at ‘Daichi's house in like four years. Remember when we talked about my parents' divorce?"

"Ya," he says carefully, his grip loosening on my wrists. "You said your sister decided to live with your Dad and you decided to stay with your Mom. The both of you spend two weeks in the summer with your Dad and two in the winter with your Mom. Other than that you guys don't cross paths unless your high schools are doing something together."

"What else?"

Kenjiro stays silent for a moment, running through all the things I've told him about my messy home life. "That the fighting used to get so bad you'd stay at the neighbor kid's house."

"Kenijiro met the neighbor kid. Kindaichi met my boyfriend."

The boys nod at each other, the tension lowering a bit but still settling pretty high. "Uh," Kindaichi murmurs, shifting his weight between his feet. "Your sister is actually looking for you, by the way. She's screaming her head off about you."

I shrug Kenjiro off of me, wiggling out of his hold to head back inside. His jealousy simmers higher the closer to my old friend I get. It's been a day of ups and downs when it comes to his jealousy. Sometimes he's been pretty loose about all the boys hanging around, other times he's been peak-ish and clingy when the players - more specifically, my friends that happen to have penises, hang around too close or too long.

"Hey, Shiro-Chan," Kindaichi greets, wrapping me in a hug. He's grown taller since the last time I saw him, his head easily burying into my hair instead of my neck like the last time I hugged him. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too. How's Johsai treating you?" I ask, stepping out of his hug and into Kenjiro’s waiting arms. My back to his chest, his arms around my waist, and his fingers wrapping around the rubber decorating my arms. At least his actions are more predictable than his jealous moods.

"It's been good. I'm a start."

I bounce in my spot, clapping my hands in excitement for him. "That's impressive as hell, ‘Dai-Chan! I'm so proud of you."

"Ya, well, it's not as impressive as getting into Shiratorizawa without a sports scholarship. How have they been treating you? You're a manager, right? That's why you're here?"

"Ya," I softly giggle, leaning into Kenjiro. His lips quickly find my neck, his nerves already starting to melt from the soft claims of partnership. "I've been managing the Shiratorizawa's Volleyball Club for two years now. Been with their pretty setter for one and a half."

Kindaichi hums, slowly nodding his head as he sizes up Kenjiro. "He's not your usual... personality type."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" My hand jumps up, digging my fingers into Kenjiro's hair to run through it, hoping to calm him down.

"Nothing, dude, nothing. It's just an observation. Shiro-Chan tends to go for more... more mellow guys is all."

"He's mellow," I murmur, my small defiance cooling my boyfriend's anger. He softly sighs, leaning into my touch as he lets his eyes fall closed. "A little territorial, but still mellow. He'll be chill by tomorrow I'm sure."

"He's your boyfriend," Kindaichi mutters, shrugging his shoulders as he glances around the grounds. "I recommend having him loosen up a bit, especially if he plans to survive your sister." His usual easy, lopsided smile is back on his face by the time his attention is on us again. "See you inside, Shiro-Chan?"

"Ya."

Kindaichi stays in his spot for a moment, slowly nodding as he watches my boyfriend coat my neck in sloppy open-mouthed kisses. Before a layer of awkwardness can fill the air, he turns and heads back inside.

"I swear to God," Kenjiro whispers into my skin. "If one more person tells me to 'loosen up' I'm going to lose my mind."

"Maybe if you weren't so jealous people wouldn't be digging into you about it."

"I'm not jealous, I'm just... territorial, like you said," he grumbles, sinking his teeth into my skin for a second before pulling away. "Is your sister really...?"

"She'll call you on your jealousy shit."

"I'm not jealous."

————————————

The warmth of the gym feels good on my skin, quickly eating away the Spring chill that the night coated it in. Kenjiro is back to his usual level-headedness, courtesy of the repeated makeout sensation after Kindaichi left us outside alone again. His hand rests on the small of my back as he follows me back into the gym, his cheeks fleshed light enough to blame it on the coolness of the night.

     "Imoto!" My sister shrieks across the gym, pulling everyone's attention to her. Yukie comes racing across the room, slowed down by the nets in her way and her want to not spill her chips on the ground. I'm not surprised to see her with a snack. It's more usual to see her without one.

     "Hey, Yukie," I welcome in return, bracing for her lack of a stop that's sure to come.

     "Is that any way to greet your older sister? No, it's not!" She continues yelling, her excitement shining through in her voice. As expected, Yukie doesn't slow down when she gets to me, body slamming me into a hug and scooting us back a step. "Greet me properly. Manners are important."

     "Sorry, Onee-San," I murmur, letting her crush me in between her arms.

     "God, it's been forever," she exaggerates with her voice back to the relaxed and calm manner she usually carries herself in. Yukie's arm is around me as her other hand runs through my hair, laying it flat as she checks out my most recent style. "You and that little boyfriend of yours," she teases, bouncing her eyebrows. "Need to come by one weekend and have dinner with Dad and me. You haven't been over in a couple months. Dad would enjoy seeing you."

     "Ya, I know," I answer, the words barely audible. "But Shiratorizawa keeps us pretty busy on the weekends. Plus, it wouldn't kill you to come see Mom more than the ordered two weeks."

     "I'm not spending any more time with that psycho than I have to," Yukie grumbles, twirling the ends of my hair. She freezes for a moment, glancing over me before kissing my cheek and pulling away. "Tanaka tells me your boyfriend is a little controlling. Nishanoya says the same thing. He also says you've been avoiding Yaku. Didn't you two make up?"

"Kenjiro isn't controlling and I thought we agreed you'd stop harassing my friend for information about me," I hiss with a tight smile stretching on my face. Yukie got everything good from our mother - manners, chill demeanor, and maturity, but she also got our Dad's bad habit - the need to know and be in the loop about everything. At least it helps her be a good manager, I guess.

"First, Tanaka and Nishanoya hunted me down. Those little womanizers," Yukie shakes her head but holds a loose smile on her face. One that quickly slides off when she focuses on me again. "Maybe if you answered my texts and calls I wouldn't have to get your life updates from your friends. Would it kill you to call me back?"

     "Probably."

     Yukie rolls her eyes, her attention falling to her chips for a moment as she thinks over the next thing to say. "You should talk to Yaku."

     "I'm good."

     My sister glares at me, her eyes slit and her jaw moving slowly to chew her snack. "At least go greet the guy. He's probably still beating himself up about the whole thing."

     "You don't care what Yaku feels or thinks. You just want an opening with my boyfriend alone so you can scare him off," I grumble, my hand waving around behind me in search of Kenjiro. He steps forward, twisting his fingertips around my wrist and gently squeezing it, letting me know he's there. "It was nice seeing you, Onee-San. I look forward to catching up with you but we should probably go greet Aboa Johsai and the rest of Fukurodani."

     "I look forward to it too," she murmurs, her eyes sharp and swimming in curiosity as I pull Kenjiro away from her.

     My storm of an exit continues even after I pull us back out of the gym, heading toward the cabin down the path everyone is spending the week in. Without praying eyes around, Kenjiro settles closer to me, still enough room between us that he doesn't step on me but close enough that his body heat warms my back.

     The soft click of his teeth fills our silent walk, a sign he's stuck debating on what he's going to say. "Spit it out," I hiss, stopping our footsteps two or three yards away from the cabin. My eyes lock on the lights spilling from the windows, jumping around all of them to catch glimpses of the people inside.

     He stays still for a moment too before stepping closer, letting his arms wrap around me and leaving his chin to rest in my shoulder. "That was... quickly escalated."

     I stew on his observation, letting my emotions run wild for a few breaths before settling them with a sigh, letting myself melt and lean into him more. "My sister has a habit of telling me everything I'm doing wrong. Not making time for Dad and her. Not answering her texts and calls. Not introducing you to Dad yet. Not talking to Yaku. Not greeting her right." Another sigh spills out, this one frustrating instead of calming.

     Kenjiro trails a line of kisses over my shoulder, curving up my neck and over my jawline before settling his lips behind my ear. "That's just what older siblings do, correcting their younger siblings mistakes. Just let it roll off your back, Sweetheart. Loosen up a bit."

———————————————————————

[13a07s]

My Home

(Keishin Ukai Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Honeyutopia]

Requested by: Nada

Word Count: 3,659

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Toots, Baby, Tootsie Roll, Bitch, Shit, Babe

Teasing Threats of Violence

Smacking

Hair Pulling

Blow Job

Head Pushing

———————————————————————

     The sound of shoes against the wooden stairs tips me off to Keishin's return. My eyes occasionally glance at our bedroom door, my focus on listening to him move around the apartment instead of the TV show I'm watching. His keys jingle as he hangs them by the door, his voice soft as he grumbles to himself. "Toots?"

     "In here!" I call, turning my focus back to the TV. My hands go back to focusing too, slowly continuing to crochet the blanket I've been working on. The box tucked into the corner of our closet is full. This last blanket will push it to overflowing. I'll have to ask Keishin to bring the box to the shelter when I'm done with this project.

The door squeaks as he pushes it up, my pretty boy leaning in the frame, his hands clinging to the top of it, and his arms stretched out as he leans forward. "There's my Toots. Let me show you my Roll."

"Pervert," I giggle, sparing him a glance and a head shake. "I'm not going to let you flash me."

"Aw, why not?" I can hear the grin in his voice almost as well as I can hear his footsteps across the room. "You know I love it when you stroke my, uh, ego." As I expected, Keishin's face is drenched in a smile even with his eyes drowning in exhaustion.

He kicks off his shoes, the sound of them and his bag hitting the floor promising another thing on my to-do list tomorrow. Keishin crawls into the bed, stretching out diagonally so his feet hang off but his head can rest in my lap, arms snug around my waist.

     My arms and project fall still underneath him, the ball of yarn and my crochet hook probably stabbing into his torso. "Rough day?" I murmur, tugging my hands out from under him. They settle on his back, gently massaging as my eyes trail over his t-shirt. They float across the white material like a boat in a foamy sea, enjoying the bright cloth and the way it hangs on his body. No longer an athlete but still the loose build of one. What a wonderful situation I get to enjoy.

"Not rough, just long. A bit stressful too," he answers, the words coming out jumbled because of his face buried in my lap. Keishin steadily starts to relax under my touch, the knots in his muscles starting to become more evident. "The farm was just a blur, then the store, and ya. Then the boys are all worked up about their practice match this weekend and I don't know. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst, you know?"

"I know, Baby," I coo, focusing my attention on his shoulders. My thumbs dig into his muscles, starting the slow but needed job of working out his sores.

"I think I have a plan though."

"Oh, ya?"

     "Ya," Keishin sighs, rolling his shoulders to adjust to the new feel of them. "We're going to use Tsukishima - the tall one with glasses - as a sort of director, I guess."

     "How is he going to be a director?" I half listen to his explanation, cozying into the rhythm of his voice and the feel of my hands soaking in his body heat. Occasionally, I nod my head, hum, or throw out an "oh ya?"

     "But anyway, that's my plan. I don't know how well it's going to work, let alone how to explain it to the kids."

     "Do you want to practice?" I ask, my focus falling away from his back. Instead, I mess with the small silver hoops dangling from his ear, rotating them through his piercings. "If I can understand what you're trying to say I'm sure the boys will get it too."

"Really?" He mutters, lifting his head to peer up at me.

"Ya, Baby." My hand slides away from his ear, falling to rest against his face, my thumb rubbing his cheek.

     A soft smile settles on his lips, his head tipping to press into my hand some more. "You're the best, Toots."

     "Don't tell the others," I tease, leaning down to be closer to his face. "You'll dry up my street cred and then I'll have to beat you to get it back."

"Oh, I know. But I so love it when you beat me," Keishin teases right back, closing the gap between us with a kiss.

"Pervert," I grumble when we pull apart, rolling my eyes at him.

"You love it."

"Oh, do I?"

"Yes," he drags out the word, a mischievous smile crawling on his face. "You love it so much," he adds, gripping my waist tighter.

"Kei, what are you doing?" He doesn't answer me, softly chuckling instead. His hands loosen their hold, sliding down before sliding back up again, this time under my shirt. "Keishin? What are you doing?" I repeat, squirming to try and escape his hold. I already know it's too late, and so does he.

Keishin grabs me again, yanking me down so I'm lying on the bed instead of propped up against the headboard. I jerk around in his hold, trying to get free before I'm trapped underneath him. He eagerly fights back, quickly overpowering me and sandwiching me between himself and the mattress. "What now, Tootsie Roll? Hmm? Can't get free, can you?"

"I'm going to beat your behind when I get free, Keishin!" I declare, trying to push him off of me. He barely moves from my effort.

     "Oh, ya, Toots. You're doing such a good job at it. Maybe I should make it a little more difficult."

     "What does that mean? Baby, what are you scheming - "

     My questions are cut off by Keishin's fingertips dancing over my sides, my nerves spiraling and twirling in response. My body jerks from the sensation, giggles being ripped from my lungs as I try to escape his touch. "Oh, oh, oh. Someone isn't a big mouth off anymore is she?" He teases, plopping kisses against me anywhere he can. "What happened to that bad little bitch that was threatening me? Who was oh so worried about her street cred?"

     "She's still going to beat your ass!" I manage to push out despite my laughter. The mix of rough fingers toying with my sides and gentle lips against my body make for a weird but comfortable mix. It makes for a perfect example of how love-struck and wild Keishin is for me.

Soon, his fingers stop attacking me, wrapping around me instead. "God, Toots," he whispers, wrapping his arms tighter and pulling me close against him. Our bodies mold together, my back slightly arched from Keishin's attempt to pull me closer. His head buries into my neck, nuzzling against my throat as he takes slow and deep inhales. "You always smell good. Like my heaven. Like my home."

I giggle again, this time soft and gentle instead of the high-pitched, rapid laughs from my tickle attack. "Gosh, someone must have had a rough day if he's being all soft and gushy."

     "Do I have to have a long day to be 'soft and gushy' with my Toots?"

     "Yes."

     "Fuck you," Keishin barks around a mouthful of chuckles. One of his hands jumps up, balling up a fistful of hair and yanking my head to the side. "Do you not like me all soft, Tootsie Roll?"

     "I do," I mutter, drowning my eyes in the sight of my cocky husband. "Especially since you're only soft for me, you cocky little shit."

     "I'm the cocky shit? Says the lady that says I'm only soft for her, which is completely false by the way, Toots. My Roll is always hard for you." My hand swings up, smacking him upside the head. "Damn," Keishin chuckles, leaving his head dipped down to brush kisses against the front of my throat. "Guess I'm not getting any action tonight."

     "You got action this morning. Twice. Bed and shower. Besides, you have a play or strategy or whatever to practice going over."

Keishin knocks his head against my chest once, twice, three times before lifting it to face me again. "You're right, as always." His sentence is punctuated with a soft kiss on my lips. A sigh follows our kiss, my husband rolling off of me and letting me breathe freely again.

I situate myself, sitting up against the headboard again, as he leans over the bed to snatch his bag from the ground. Keishin straightens himself once he has his stuff, sitting crisscrossed in front of me. I watch curiously as he digs through his bag, pulling out a whiteboard and such. I know coaches do the whole whiteboard team meeting thing in movies but for some reason, I never thought it was something people did.

"The magnets are numbered with the boys' jerseys," he starts explaining, twenty or so magnets littering the bedspread alongside a pile of dry-erase markers. Keishin's forehead wrinkles as he focuses intensely on the board, doodling whatever it is he's drawing. "It's a practice match against Date Tech. Last year they caused us some trouble but our Ace - that's the top spiker by the way," he cuts himself off, looking up at me as he explains the terminology. "Did pretty good at getting through their defense, but Asuma graduated."

"Don't you have a new Ace though?"

"Ya, Tanaka. He's a good spiker and a good Ace too, but he can get a little hot-headed. Doesn't always think before he acts, especially when he's worked up. Ennoshita does pretty good at keeping him in line, most of the time anyway."

     "Well, that's good at least."

     Keishin hums in agreement, laying the whiteboard down between us. An outline of a volleyball court decorates the board in thin and thick lines. His eyes jump around the bed, glancing through the magnets before he lays them down. "The black ones are my boys, they're the ones numbered, and the white ones are the opposing team, okay?"

     "Okay."

"The good thing about Date Tech is two of their blockers from last year are still on the team so I have an idea of what we're working with. The bad thing is two of their blockers from last year are still on the team so they also have an idea of what to do," Keishin rambles, placing the magnets onto the board and moving them around how he wants them.

"Sounds like a rock and a hard place."

"Ya," he chuckles, the sound coming out stressed instead of happy. "I'm not that worried about our offense though. Hinata - the one you call an excited yorkie - has gotten better at adapting his spikes so that'll have to be a more in-the-moment plan."

     "That's good, Baby," I murmur, watching as he nervously clicks the pieces around the board, not a hundred percent certain of any of his placements.

     Keishin falls quiet for a few moments, messing with the magnets until he's soothed his worries. The board is propped up, aimed at me so I can see it better. "Alright, so, our defense sucks. Not as bad as last year but still not the best."

     "Got it," I murmur, nodding in agreement even though I wouldn't know that without Keishin telling me.

      "A lot of it falls on Tsukishima, a lot on Nishanoya too, but mostly Tsukishima in the front row." He taps on the piece labeled eight.

     "Hinata," number seven is tapped on as he keeps explaining the situation to me. "Is the worst on defense. Mostly because he can't receive for the life of him, but he just doesn't have the experience, so, per usual, when he gets to the back row, after he serves," Keishin rotates the pieces in a circle until number seven is in the middle of the back row. "I'll swap Hinata and Nishanoya out." Number seven is pushed out of the box and replaced by an orange magnet labeled four.

     "That makes sense," I tell him, nodding in agreement again. The situation does make sense, but number four being orange confused me a bit. Oh well, I guess. The colors of the magnets don't matter.

"For the first match at least, probably more, Tsukishima will be calling the blocking plays." Again, number eight is tapped on. "He has an eye for that sort of stuff and I'm hoping he'll help the others pick up on what he sees, you know? Give them an idea of what to look out for so they know how to react. Does that sound stupid?"

"It doesn't sound stupid, Baby."

"Okay," he whispers, mostly speaking to himself. "Anyway, so that's pretty much the plan. Having Tsukishima control the blocking until we get a feel and or until the other boys can figure it out for themselves. It's going to be a lot on him," Keishin mutters, laying the board back down between us.

     His eyebrows are pressed together, his forehead wrinkled from the act. All Keishin is made out of is nicotine, spite, and stress. Usually, I'm worried about his stress, but at the moment I find it more cute than worrisome. I adore how much he loves his players and how set he always is on giving them the best chance to win and improve.

     "I don't want to put too much pressure on the kid. He just picks up on these things the quickest so, it's the best to have everything set how he needs to test his theories and whatever, right?"

     "Right. Besides, worst case it doesn't work out and you fall back on what you know."

     "Ya, I guess so. I don't want to do that though. It'll leave us scrambling, you know?... I don't know. I don't want to stress Tsukishima out or put him under pressure but I just... I don't know." Keishin sighs, his hands dragging down his face. "I don't know what to do, Toots."

     "Oh, baby," I coo, leaning across the bed to wrap my arms around him. A hand settles over his shoulders, the other knotting into his hair, running through the locks he let loose on his drive home. "What have I told you about thinking things over?"

     "Once isn't enough, ten times is too many. Find my happy medium," he mutters, turning his head to brush kisses against my wrist.

"And how many times have you thought this issue over?"

"Ten... twenty... forty times, maybe. I don't want the first practice match of the season to be a bust, you know? That's terrible momentum to run on."

"I know, Baby, but the more you mull it over, the more holes you poke in your thoughts. Just talk to Tsukishima, okay? See how the kid feels about it. If he feels like he can handle it, go with your plan. If not, wing it. After all, my crows have always been good at adapting quickly."

Keishin arches forward, melting our bodies together again. His arms find their place around my waist, keeping me flesh against him. "My sweet Tootsie Roll," he murmurs, his head finding its place on my shoulder, nose pressed against my neck as close as possible. Same routine and position since the start of our relationship. "Always the perfect mix of sweet and tart when I need it. Always my home." He inhales the scent of my perfume and shampoo again, taking his time like always to savor the smell.

     I give him a little while, letting him drown himself in me, letting him calm his nervous down from his emotional escalation, letting him restart and re-stab his thoughts. "Alright," I finally murmur, moving in his arms. "Enough welling," I tell Keishin, pushing him off of me before pushing him onto his back.

He softly smiles at me, his hands rubbing my arms as I situate myself on top of him. "I can't help it, Toots. You know I worry about everything," Keishin whispers, adjusting himself to lay more comfortably on the mattress.

I hum a melody as I lean downward, laying my chest against his as I nuzzle my nose against his neck. "Maybe a little distraction will help?" I whisper, brushing light kisses against his skin.

"What kind of distraction are you thinking about?" Keishin mutters, his hands finding their way to cup my ass.

"I'm not too sure yet," I answer, making my way down his neck. I slowly trail further, curving over his shoulder and down his chest. His shirt is stained with my path, my lipstick standing out on the white t-shirt. "Maybe," I start, nuzzling the hem of his shirt with my nose as my hands busy themselves undoing his pants. "You just need some under-the-desk support."

"Damn, Toots. You know I'll never turn down an offer like that," Keishin grumbles, his hands sliding up to rest higher the more I inch down. My tongue slides over his skin, the tip teasingly poking under the band of his boxers. A groan ouches in the room from Keishin, his hands sliding over my back and between my shoulder blades before styling in my hair. “Toots. The teasing, Babe.”

“What about it?” I whisper, the peach fuzz of his happy trail tickling my lips. “I thought this is what you wanted. After all, you came in asking to use your dick,” I tease, my fingertips sliding against the plaid material of his boxers before settling on the imprint of his dick. I take hold of him, stroking his trapped erection as my tongue continues to trail back and forth under the elastic band.

Keishin’s fingers knot in my hair, holding it back from my face. His chest is raspy with his heavy breathing, growls, and grumbles mixed with the sound of his lungs. “Toots, come on. The teasing isn’t cool.” He yanks on my hair, forcing my head back and my eyes up. “Knock off the teasing. Either suck my dick or get on your knees so I can paint your tits.”

I roll my eyes at him, a smile hanging on my lips as I soak in the frustration on his face. “Fine, no more teasing.” His hold loosens on my hair but doesn’t let me go. Keishin’s deep brown eyes stay locked on me, watching as I inch his boxers down enough for his dick to escape.

My tongue wraps around his base, starting the collection of drool that’ll slide down and wet his balls. I tease the base for a tongue lashing or two before starting the slow slide up his length, mentally counting my way.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

“Baby, come on,” he hisses, his knuckles popping from gripping my hair so tight. My scalp stings from my roots being pulled on but I can’t seem to care much. I adore teasing Keishin to the point of desperation.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

My tongue slides over the tip of his dick, the taste of his pre-cum coating my taste buds. My hand wraps around him, slowly stroking the base as I twirl around and tease the head. Keishin is already squirming, his hips jerking and penis twitching. “Damn it, Toots. Knock off the teasing. Baby, you’re killing me,” he grumbles on repeat, his teeth clenched as he hisses at me.

“You’ll be okay,” I murmur, finally allowing part of him to slide between my lips.

Keishin’s tip settled in my mouth, a loud “Fuck” spilling out of him. I can’t help the prideful smile trying to curl the corners of my mouth. I puff my cheeks out, my tongue trailing the veins of his cock as I suck on him. “Jesus, Baby, come on,” he huffs, flexing his fingers before returning his death grip to my hair.

It’s driving him crazy. The teasing. The slow pace. The minimal attention. The restraint not to shove my head down and force his dick further in. Maybe I should be nice and give him a bit of what he wants.

I keep my movements slow as I slide down, his cock inching further and further. His tip taps the back of my throat, brewing a couch in my lungs. I don’t let it stop me though, continuing to slide down as my throat flexes to try and resolve the need to cough. “Fuck!” Keishin yelps, shoving my head down.

My lungs and throat scream with the need to cough up the block, a jumble of gagging and spit leaking from the corners of my lips. Keishin’s cum spilling over and dripping down my throat doesn’t help the situation. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Toots. I didn’t mean to,” he rambles, dropping his hold away from my head to toy with the ends of my hair.

I jerk my head up, back to sucking on the tip of his dick to encourage his cum to keep spilling down my throat. Apologizes ring from Keishin on repeat, his focus on trying to gently push me off himself and check on me instead of his dick twitching in my mouth.

When he finally dries up with nothing left to tant my tongue in salt, I pull off of him. My lungs scream with the feel of easy and fresh air coating them. “I’m sorry, Toots,” Keishin repeats, his hand cupping my face while his thumb brushing against my cheek. “I know you don’t like when I push your head. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s alright,” I whisper, trying to steady my breathing. My hand jumps to my neck, massaging it as I lean into his touch.

“No it’s not, Toots,” he softly says, tugging me to sit in his lap again. His hand joins mine against my neck, helping to rub away the soreness of it. “You’ve told me before you don’t like me pushing your head and I did it anyway. You’re my home, Baby. That’s not how a man takes care of his home.”

[13a07s]

Nothing Sweeter Than Sugar

(Kenma Kozume)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to mafuyukii]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,265

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Sugar, Daddy, Good Girl, Baby, Sweetheart

Sugar Daddy - Ness Mentioned

Anxiety (Specifically, Visiobibliophobia)

Self-harm (scratching)

Sexual Tension

———————————————————————

     "I don't know what I'm doing," I mutter, pressing random buttons on Kenma's keyboard, doing 'my best not to die' as he asked. I don't know how he does it. The few minutes I've sat here for him have all been distracting and overwhelming. The constant rolling comments on his live stream, the awareness of being on camera, and everything happening in the game is a lot to keep up with.

The soft 'hmph' Kenma has a habit of letting out wisps against my ear, tipping me off to his presence before his hands on my shoulders can. "It looks like you're not messing up my game," he whispers, making sure the microphone of his headset doesn't pick up on it. "Good girl."

A mix of giddiness and embarrassment mixes on my cheeks. I didn't do anything in the game while he was gone so I don't believe I deserved the praise. But, praise from Kenma is rare so I revel in it when I can.

My praise doesn't stop there. My boyfriend reaches his hand in front of me, briefly covering his camera. The mandator to our left goes grainy and dark, mirroring what his viewers are seeing, or well, what they're not seeing. The chat starts dinging faster than before, snips of people questioning why their video is darkened and trying to catch Kenma's attention speed across the mentor to the right.

     "Good job, Sugar," he repeats, his free hand ghosting over my neck, pushing my hair out of his way. His fingertips are slowly replaced by his lips, a gentle, almost phantom kiss being pressed to the back of my neck. "I appreciate it," he continues to praise, beginning to trail his ghostly kisses up my neck, his path ending behind my ear.

     I can't help the squeak that spills out. It's not usual that Kenma is affectionate and even less common for him to initiate said affection. The realization that there's an audience that just heard the pathetic mouse impression that squeezed out of me settles on my chest. The mix of giddiness and embarrassment grows on my skin, specifically heating the dying path his kisses took.

Kenma softly chuckles, carefully pulling his headset off me to put it back in its rightful place on his head. I catch a glimpse of my flustered expression on the monitor.

"Hey, sorry guys, I had to take a call," Kenma shortly explains to his fans, fixing his mic. His golden eyes glow as they stare down at me, his body focused on adjusting his headset but his eyes stay focused on me. The sharp shape and attention of them make me squirm, my blush and flustering feelings quickly becoming too much. "Everyone say thank you to my girlfriend for stepping in for me."

'You little shit, stop,' I mouth, making sure to turn so the camera can't bear into my very being any longer. It makes Kenma silently laugh, his eyes shining even more with amusement. I swear, he picked up streaming just to embarrass me every chance he gets.

     Kenma's chest vibrates with the sound of his next round of joy. It's real laughter this time, echoing in the chilled game room instead of the mute or almost mute sound he usually makes when he's joyful. "You know," he starts, his body still after his laughing fit stops. A sharp grin rests on his face, fighting against the sharpness of his eyes for the award of deadliest. "Most babies know better than to call their Sugar Daddy a little shit."

     "You're not my Sugar Daddy and you are a little shit."

     "Sure, Sugar," he coos, his voice warm despite the belittling undertone of it. "Why don't you be a good girl and go take a bath for Daddy? I'm sure your nerves could use it. You're pretty much dripping in anxiety."

"Little shit," I hiss, even though he's right. I like sitting with Kenma in his game room. I even like being in here with him while he's streaming. I don't like being part of the streaming; at least not on camera. That tacked with him openly teasing me on his stream, and it doesn't take long until I'm overwhelmed, which is quickly knotting a ball of anxiety in my stomach.

     His eyes swim over me for a long moment before flicking toward the door, another command to leave and take care of myself. Surprisingly, Kenma's anxieties haven't ever fed into mine. If anything, it helps him notice my coping mechanisms - like my middle finger tapping an unheard beat against my thumb - and helps him redirect my energy - taking a warm bath until my mind is soothed.

     "Go."

     The single word hangs in the air as we stare at each other, tempting each other to give in. As always, the feeling of eyes on the back of my neck wears me down a lot quicker than Kenma. "Fine," I mutter, climbing out of his plump, stereotypical gamer chair. I wish I was as comfortable on camera as I am talking through his mic. I know his fans are always hounding him about having me in more videos and streams.

     "Good," he grumbles, sliding past me to take up the seat I was just in. "Hello again," Kenma greets his viewers, getting situated to focus on his game and his fans again. "Sorry for the long wait. Shit comes up, you know?" The continuous click of comments flowing through elevates again with his full arrival, a mix of understanding and pissy fans voicing their thoughts.

     I stay still next to his chair for a few more moments, watching him get back into his groove, my eyes snapping back to the monitor every few seconds to make sure I'm not in the frame. "You know," I start, leaning closer to his headset so the viewers can hear my voice. "Don't let Kenma fool you. Despite how he acts, he's quite the bottom in bed. An hour ago, the guy was on his knees offering two thousand just to touch me - eh!"

My personal life spilling is cut short by Kenma jerking toward me, pinching my side to get me to shut up. A glare, with a tiny hint of amusement whipping through his irises, is shot my way. "That's private information. Incorrect private information, might I add," he grumbles, aiming the lie toward his viewers.

     "That's bullshit and you know it," I whisper, keeping my voice soft so it's not picked up.

     Slowly, lazy gold drips down my body, melting over my curves as Kenma stretches out a hum. His humming pauses for a moment, starting up again when his eyes backtrack their trail. My stomach does somersaults, heat blooming over my skin again as he etches every detail of me into his mind. No matter how many times he does it, I always feel squirmy with embarrassment and staticy with need. Need he can't fulfill right now.

     "I know," Kenma finally exhales, the expensive metal color of his eyes glued to my shirt collar. The small red and purple nicks left behind by his teeth earlier in the day burn under his stare. "I also know you need to go calm down before you scratch your skin off. Itching isn't going to make the feeling go away."

     My body freezes, trying to make sense of what my boyfriend just said. With the pause, a burning sensation quickly loops around my forearm, tugging my eyes down to investigate. My nails are dug into my skin, long red trails left in their wake, overlapping and crisscrossing all over my arm. It's another coping mechanism, a super unhealthy one that I've been struggling to ditch for years. It usually surfaces when I feel like I'm being watched, like now.

     "Sorry, I didn't realize I was doing it," I mutter, loosening my hold on my arm. I carefully run my thumb over the scratching, checking the state of them. They're not deep and none of them are bleeding. I'm sure they'll all fade away within an hour or so.

     "No need to apologize, Sugar," Kenma coos, his voice soothing this time instead of teasing. "Go take a bath and relax. You know where I'll be when you're done." He sends me a wink before turning back to his screens, apologizing to his fan base again.

     Despite his main focus being back into his game, I can still feel the flicker of his eyes, trailing after me as I leave the room. The heat of it stays occasionally licking at my heels even as I head down the hallway, the doorframe separating us threatening to burst into flames simply from Kenma's repeating glances.

     As I head toward the bathroom I make a mental note to set a timer. The last thing I need is for him to be distracted from his fans again because he's worried I'm not doing okay or that I fell asleep in the bath again.

                    ————————————

     "Shit. Shit, shit, shit," Kenma's strained voice grumbles, not quite a shout but above his resting volume. The soft buzz of fake gunshots mix with his cursing, the soft noise easing the small flick of anxiety threatening to spark.

     I don't know why my anxiety always spikes when it comes to Kenma streaming or anything having to do with his social media. For someone terrified to the masses about being judged by internet strangers, I have a very social media present partner.

     At least he's pretty understanding about it and doesn't push my comfort zone too hard. I will say, that I've been to a lot of beautiful parties and award ceremonies and such because Kenma has gently pushed me to attend with him.

     I stand just inside the room, leaning against the door frame as I admire Kenma, soaking in the warm feeling of being understood and loved despite my irrational fears. My fingertips wrap around the hem of his favorite sweatshirt, enjoying the comfort of it as my eyes roll over him the same way he did to me before my lavender and Epsom salt bath.

     I thought he looked adorable with dye blonde, root showing hair in high school, but now? With his man bun and the long streaks of natural black that melt into blonde? With his hair comfortably draped above his shoulders? There's been more than once that I've been distracted by Kenma tying his hair up alone.

     "How long are you going to stare, Sugar?" His voice rings sweet, a one-eighty from the tone he held earlier. Kenma's eyes flick to the side for a moment, observing his comments before focusing on me again. "They want you to say hi if you want. You don't have to," the small ramble is buffered by his focus on his game, my boyfriend's way of seeming calm. I know he's weird I'll get stressed again, evident in the tightness of his shoulders and slightly rougher stroke of his keyboard.

     "I don't mind saying hi," I tell him, the footsteps of my slippers melting into the cream carpet of the room.

I settle behind his chair, resting against it with my arms around his neck, hands dangling on his chest. I keep my breath steady as I check the screen to the side. Nothing but my arms wrapped in the comfort of Kenma and my perfectly maintained nails are in frame. Perfectly fine by me. It's his sweatshirt and the nails he chose for me that they're able to judge.

Kenma's focus stays on his game for a few more seconds, finishing whatever task it is he's doing. Once he's finished with... collecting ammo, I think?... he tips his head up to look at me. "Hey, Sugar. Are you doing okay?"

"I'm good," I hum, gently running my fingernails over his clothed chest.

His eyes melt over me in their slow and lazy trail like always, melting with my still-tinted red skin from the warm water, and widening a bit when they fall to his sweatshirt wrapped around me. "Are you wearing my sweatshirt?" I nod, yes, toying with his headset, clicking it into a bigger setting before clicking it back to the right size. Kenma's eyes slit, curiously jerking around the fabric as his hand comes up to close around his mic, cutting our voices off from his fans. "Only my sweatshirt?"

"More or less," I murmur, rubbing my bare thighs together. I did put undergarments on, mostly - only - because he promised to go to dinner once he's done with his twelve-hour streaming session. My eyes glance at the clock, three hours down, nine to go. Plenty of time to lay around the house in comfy clothes.

"You're teasing," he quietly hisses, his frustration from earlier lying dormant, at least until now. I may, or may not have, started teasing Kenma knowing he only had thirty minutes until his stream started. I may, or may not have, also told him his begging was inadequate to get what he wanted before his stream too.

I shrug my shoulders, a soft smile hanging on my lips as my nails crawl up his chest, gently rolling across his throat. "I think you deserve it, Baby. Calling me a good girl, referring to yourself as Daddy, ordering me around. I think someone forgot who's really in charge."

Kenma's eyes are wide now, cheeks dusted a soft pink as he looks up at me. "I only... I... you were all worked up and... I just... I wasn't trying - "

I softly giggle at his stuttering, his little attitude act breaking at the first sign of me throwing my weight around. Kenma might not be as shy or reserved as he was when we first met, but he's the same blushing boy who turned as pink as a peach the first time I offered to blow him.

"Your fans are waiting," I cut off his flustered words, jerking my head toward the chat made up of a million questions, all circled around why they can't hear him and why he's tucked behind a bush in the game.

"Right," he drags out the word, his still pink-dusted face slowly falling to look at his screens again. "Say hi, Sugar," Kenma whispers, uncertainly letting go of his microphone so it can pick up the sound of us better. His skin tints a darker shade of pink when I lean closer to talk into his mic.

"Hey guys! Sorry to keep pulling Kodzuken away from ya. I hope you're all doing well and enjoying the stream! I'm sure I'll pop back in soon." Once I'm done talking to his fans, I pull away from him, running through what I'm going to do for the next nine hours. My book is still tucked away by one of his monitors. Maybe I'll read that in the bean bag chair as he plays.

Kenma turns in his chair, jerking toward me again, this time to wrap his arms around my waist instead of pinching me. "Where are you going?" He asks, trying to keep his tone steady, but a bit of a whine still sneaks through.

"I think I'm going to go read, maybe take a nap when my eyes get tired," I murmur, running my nails through his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

His eyes slowly blink as his hands focus on kneading at my stomach, toying with his sweatshirt hanging on me. "Sit with me?"

     "Of course, Baby. I always do."

"No, with me," he murmurs, hands sliding down to grip my hips, gently tugging on me.

     "I don't want to be on camera."

     "It'll just be a section of your back and the ends of your hair. Nothing else," he whispers, his hands sliding down to gently push on the back of my knees. When they buckle, Kenma swoops me up, positioning me on his lap, chest to chest. "Please?"

     My arms settle over his shoulders as I get comfortable on his lap, toying with the loose strands of hair that have slipped from his bun. "Just my back?"

     Kenma softly hums, fingertips slowly crawling up my thighs to poke under the end of his sweatshirt clinging to them. His chair softly sways back and forth as his eyes trail over me. My man of a million words with barely a thousand spoken, but that's okay. His soft looks and constant awareness of me are enough.

     After another beat, he whips the chair back around, jumbling me in his lap and making me giggle. "Alright, back to the game," Kenma mutters, checking his camera and the monitor to stay true to his promise. "Brought to you with the guest appearance of my Sugar's back and split ends."

     "I don't have split ends Mr. Half-Dye!" I tease back, honking his bun a few times. "Meanie."

     "A meanie you're distracting, Sugar," he whispers stretching his arm across his desk to grab my book for me. He stops for a moment, flashing it at the camera. "Here's the most recent porno my girlfriend is reading."

     "It's not a porno!" I shriek, lunging to try and snatch my book away from him.

     "Totally is," he grumbles, letting me take my book back. Kenma settles into place, chin on my shoulder, slightly hunched over so he can see the screen and be pressed against me. Our bodies melt into each other, finding comfort and familiarity in the position along with each other.

     My arms settle over his shoulders again, cracking open my book to keep reading my romance story that Kenma insists is just difficult pornography. The sounds of the room mix with my reading. His soft curses and conversation with his fans, the ticking of the stream chat, the soft buzz of his game in his headphones, and the soothing tapping of his keyboard.

     Occasionally, my eyes flicker between his monitors, checking to make sure I'm in frame how I'm comfortable. My eyes skirt over to the chat as well, glancing over it. A lot of it is gibberish about his game that I don't understand, a few nasty comments about my presence and Kenma's constant distraction with me, and a few comments gushing over the two of us.

A soft sigh spills from Kenma, his arms wrapping around me, and his head burying into my neck. "I almost lost that round. I guess I'm losing my touch."

     "You're not losing your touch. I'm sure it was just a difficult round."

     "Probably, Sugar," he murmurs, brushing a kiss to the side of my throat. Slowly, Kenma pulls away from me, situating himself in a more relaxed position. I squirm to adjust as well, perched on his lap like a prized trophy.

     His eyes flicker around, looking at all his screens before settling on the chat. Kenma's soft voice mixes with my reading again as he answers questions and talks with his fans. His hand slowly paws at my thigh, rubbing against the chilled skin. "Sugar?" He calls with a drop of sweetness in his tone.

     "Hmm?"

     "The viewers want to know why I call you sugar."

     "Because I'm your Sugar Baby and you're my Sugar Daddy, duh," I teasingly answer, leaning forward to spill the answer into his microphone.

     The familiar warmth of embarrassment warms my face as Kenma's eyes melt over me, his hand sliding up from my thigh to the middle of my back. He gently pushes on it, making it arch downward. "The real reason, Sugar."

     "Because I'm your high school Sweetheart, and there's nothing sweeter than Sugar."

[13a07s]

Actions Are Indefinite

(Tetsuro Kuroo)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Pixiv Id]

Requested by: No One

Word Count: 3,825

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Toxic Relationship (Not sure how but it is)

Alcohol

Sexual Tension; "Good Girl"

Boss/Employee Relationship

———————————————————————

Vibrations fight with the weight of the liquor in my system to etch their way into the skin of my hand. My phone wins, momentarily pulling my attention away from the man speaking gibberish to Morisuke and me. Well, to Morisuke, I just happen to be present.

My brother is back in the country on a short trip, no surprise there. He's usually only home for holidays or something to do with volleyball. I don't mind though, Morisuke has his ways of being present in my life without physically being present. Daily calls, weekly FaceTimes, gifts, random grocery deliveries, wiring money, and a lengthy text lecture if my bank account gets a penny below a thousand.

My brother has always been a bit of a... well, a helicopter parent. Micromanaging everything at all times if it has anything to do with my life or the lives of our younger brothers. Lucky for Morisuke, the youngest of our siblings is in his last year of high school, studying abroad in Russia. Aka, always under the watchful eye of our oldest brother. My fellow middle child is also studying abroad, his first year of college in England. Aka, the least micromanaged of us because of his college choice.

     I'm stuck in a happy medium. Far enough not to have Morisuke breathing down my neck, but still in our home country. Aka, he can pop in whenever he feels like it and has enough connections to help me move forward or - his personal favorite - to track every aspect of my life. The top dog in that running being Tetsuro Kuroo.

Tetsuro, who I've been shadowing and interning for. Like the older man, I hope to have a career in sports media. Unlike him, I want to be a journalist, not a promoter. Tetsuro, who bent me over his desk, even though he's technically my boss and one of my brother's longest-lasting friends. Tetsuro, who had no shame using the fact he's 'watching over me' to tattle to my brother that a big-time journalist was 'being a little handsy' at our lunch meeting about my next internship and the possibility of it being with his magazine.

Tetsuro, who's calling me for the tenth time tonight. Tetsuro, who I've been ignoring for the past two days. Tetsuro, who dug his heels when I requested time off until my brother informed him why I was requesting time off; to prepare and come to this dumb party to celebrate Russia's and Japan's official match. Tetsuro, who declared our moment - more like an hour - in his office, on his desk was a mistake, a lapse in judgment. Tetsuro, who said it meant nothing and wouldn't be happening again. Ever.

     I smash the big red decline button, sending his call to my overflowing inbox. Each message is laced with his voice. Some disguised as work calls, some simply telling me to call him back, and others telling me I'm acting like a spoiled brat.

I am a spoiled brat, Morisuke made sure of that. He's spent my whole life, even up to this very moment, making sure he - not our father - was the foundation of what I searched for in a man. Before I even utter a want or need, my brother takes care of it. Whether it's something as small as a back rub or something as big as moving to Russia with him; a selfish want of his that he's been not so discreetly dropping hints about. My brother's selfish want that doesn't seem so bad at the moment.

"Morisu - "

Before his name is fully off my lips, his hand is waved at a waiter, beckoning them to fetch me another drink to add to the long line of glasses I've left in my wake tonight. My brother doesn't bat an eye or stumble over his words as he sends out the order. From an outsider, it would look like his full attention is on his teammate. It's not.

     The lengthy tab under his name and the lack of lectures about 'being presentable' and 'not getting sloppy drunk' tip me off that Morisuke knows something's wrong. The fake unawareness of my alcohol intake lets me know he hasn't a clue in the world what it is. Actions, his specificity, are indefinite, always telling the true meaning of someone's thoughts and feelings.

It's good he doesn't know what's going on, at least in my book. The last thing I need is his image getting tainted because he punched his friend's teeth out. However, I'd give just about anything to curl up in Morisuke's arms and cry over the heartache consuming my chest.

Just as the waiter is coming back with my sixth - or maybe it's my seventh - cranberry vodka, my phone vibrates again, forcefully shaking in my hand. I snatch the cup from the staff rougher than I should have but I don't care for long. The weight and chill of the glass on my lips paired with the burning and sour taste seeping down my throat eases my empathy as soon as it bubbles in my chest.

     "He's been calling you a lot tonight," Morisuke mutters, plucking the empty glass from my fingertips when I tip it away. "The only time he's called even Kenma more than twice is when he's overslept. He's called you eleve - " My phone starts vibrating again, cutting my brother off. "Twelve. He's called you twelve times tonight."

     My eyes skirt down to my phone, denying Tetsuro once again. "You know how Kuroo gets. He's a workaholic. He probably just misplaced a file and wants to know if I know where it is," I try to lie, forcing my words out slowly so I make sure they come out properly and not heavy like my tongue feels.

     After my voice stops, I hold my breath in hopes Morisuke will believe me. He stares at me, unblinking, for a few moments before snapping his mouth into motion. "Call him back so he'll leave you be. Stop at the bar on your way back too. Your words are coming out tanged."

On the one hand, I'm glad he believed me. On the other hand, I don't want to call Tetsuro back, but my brother is as right as always, even if he didn't fully say it. I won't stop receiving calls until I answer or call back.

Like clockwork, as soon as I step out of my brother's bubble, my phone shakes and lights up with the picture of him and his high school friend again. It's an outdated picture, one of the millions taken at their graduation, but it's the last photo I have of the two.

Reluctantly, I press the green button instead of the red one. "Mr. Kuroo," I grumble into the phone, the tips of my ear feeling hot against the chilly glass. My eyes snag on the bar, my brother's voice ordering me to stop at it ringing in my mind. Technically, he just said to stop at the bar, he didn't say what to order even if it was insinuated he wanted me to get a glass of water.

     "The fuck did you just call me?" He asks, voice even, steady, and deadpanned. Tetsuro might not ever raise his voice loud enough to yell at me, but he has other ways to get his point across if his cursing wasn't enough. "In the ten years I've known you, Buttercup, you've never once referred to me as Mr Kuroo. Kuroo-San, ya, but not Mr Kuroo."

     "In the almost ten years I've known you, Mr Kurro, you've never once thought about fucking me on your desk and yet here we are," I respond, echoing his phrasing to mock him. The liquor on my tongue helps smooth the words out easier. It helps me slide into the barstool at the counter easier too. Vodka, two. Me, also two. Tetsuro, zero.

     One of his chuckles rings across the line. Not his light airy business laugh or his crackle used around his friends. No, this one is dark and almost warning, a noise that reminds me of smooth whiskey. "Buttercup, since the first day of my second year, since your first day of high school. Since I walked into class and you were perched on Yaku's desk in that short little skirt that showed off how your thighs spread like butter on the laminate. All I could think about is fisting your hair and sinking my dick into you bent over that goddamn desk."

     My heart flutters at the confusion, and not the heart pounding in my chest. I must not be drunk enough if the stupid bed-head can still get a rise out of me. "Forgive me for talking out of line, Sir, but you're full of shit right now, Mr. Kuroo," my hand flies up as I degrade my boss, waving at the waiter that brought me the last drink I had.

     "Actually," I start up again once the waiter nods, turning to start working on my next drink. "Don't forgive me, seeing how you're interrupting my personal time and according to my year contract as your intern, before the hour of seven in the morning or after the hour of five in the evening I'm not to be contacted for any of your needs. Mr Kuroo."

     I know it's petty of me to call him that again and that it'll crawl under his skin, but that's the point. Tetsuro wants to keep a professional relationship? Fine, I'll remain professional.

     When the waiter walks over with a chilled glass and my steady drink of the night, the relief of being tipsier almost erases the man on the other end of the phone. Almost. "If even a drop of that alcohol touches your lips I'll make sure that flirty little waiter doesn't work another promotion event of any kind," Tetsuro's icy voice echoes through my phone, the coldness of it not taking away the evenness.

     My hand snaps away from the glass, my eyes darting around the event room in search of the ex-winged spiker. "He's not being flirty and I'm old enough to decide if I want alcohol or not," I whisper, as if that'll make searching for him any easier.

     Tetsuro is full of shit right now. I bet he's not even here. I bet he took an educated guess on what I'm doing or has Kenma or one of the players feeding him updates on what I'm doing. The thoughts help me relax, my body turning back toward the bar as my free hand wraps around the glass again.

     "It's not common to freeze a glass for a cranberry vodka, Buttercup. If Yaku tabbed out his bill right now, how many of your drinks do you think Mr Wandering-Eyes 'forgot' to ring in?" Okay, maybe he's not full of shit. Maybe he is here somewhere.

     "If I told my brother you fucked me in your office like a pornographic secretary, how many of your teeth do you think he'd knock out?" I counter, raising the glass off the bar and slowly trailing it toward my lips. I might not be able to see him, but he sure can see me. Fine Mr Kuroo, do you want to test each other? Let's test each other. Words might sound pretty, but actions are indefinite.

     A hand slips over the opening of the glass, the knuckles of it pressed against my lips because of the short opening between the rim of the cup and my mouth. "Every last one of them, Buttercup, and I'd spend the whole time thinking about the way you begged me to choke you harder with your lanyard." Tetsuro's whisper cracks over the call at the same time it's whispered in my unoccupied ear, shooting chills up my spine.

     Actions are indefinite, words are not, and Tetsuro is whispering in my ear, the back of his fingers pressed against my lips to keep the alcohol I ordered parted from my tastebuds.

     He slowly pushes the cup down until it ticks against the counter again, his fingers sliding down the side to rest on top of mine. The dinging of the call ending rings in my ear for a moment or two before his voice is paired with it. "You've had enough to drink tonight, so, you have two options. You can float back over to your brother and ignore those soaked panties of yours - "

     "I'm not wet." Lie. Big, fat, fucking lie. My thighs are drenched, the material of my underwear clinging to my pussy because of my arousal. I've been dripping since he asked what I called him.

     Tetsuro's hand not wrapped around the glass snakes over my back, fingertips looping against the material of my dress before sliding down my rib cage. "You have two options," he repeats, his hand settling on my thigh, clawing at the skirt of my dress to hike it up my legs. "You can go back over and let Yaku take care of you, ignoring the sweetness you're wasting on this barstool."

     His fingertips brush against bare skin before rolling down, fingers prancing over me before settling on my mess. "Or you can let me take care of you," he mutters my second option, a single finger slowly ghosting up and down my clothed cunt, making me squirm on the stool secured under me. "Are you going to come with me to finish my important conversations like a good intern or are you going to continue sulking next to your brother as you try to drink away the feeling of my hands on your skin?"

     My tongue feels heavy again, weighed down with pounds made of vodka and lust. "I suppose starting to network will help me later on." My voice is so low I'm convinced he doesn't hear me, at least until his soft, normal laugh caresses my ear.

     "If you do tag along, it means no more drinking for the night, Buttercup, and some water to help sober you up." I grumble but don't put up a fight as he flags someone over.

Tetsuro's aura darkens as the same guy returns, the waiter's eyes jumping between the two do us. "Ms Yaku, how can I help you?" The man asks, his attention settling on me.

"She'd like a water," Tetsuro answers for me, his hand falling from the air to rest around my throat, his fingertips slightly digging into my flesh. Actions are indefinite, and at this moment his actions seem to counter his words from the other day. It wasn't a lapse of judgment, it was a lapse of self-control. The same gap is happening now.

"Isn't that right, Sweetheart?" He asks, words cool but tone laced with venom as he glares at the waiter. Tetsuro's head tips down, lips brushing behind my ear before his teeth snag on my earlobe, gently tugging on it before he pulls back again.

"Ya," I exhale, eyes locked on the waiter to help keep myself grounded. The worker has a mix of a pissy attitude and annoyance on his face before he turns away, grumbling to himself about 'high-class women'.

As soon as the waiter walks away, Tetsuro takes a step away from me, his hand and lips equally pulled from me. "It's repulsive a man like that thinks he stood a chance."

"You don't have to be so mean," I snap at him, turning my head to glare at the lengthy man. "Don't forget not that long ago we both attended one of the poorest schools in our district. What's gotten into you? Acting all prissy and like you're this big flirty guy. I've seen you stumble over your words ordering a coffee from a cute cashier."

A spark of the usual happy-go-lucky Tetsuro flickers through his eyes before getting snuffed out. "His bank account isn't why he doesn't stand a chance. He won't show you even an inkling of the respect your brother does. As for the other half of your complaining, I've embarrassed myself enough times in front of you that I can't do much worse. Besides," his voice drops to a hush and his head tilts down, his lips next to my ear again. "I already know what you think of me, Buttercup. That's a luxury I don't have with most people."

     Once again, Tetsuro pulls away from me, just in time for the waiter to set my glass of water down a little more aggressively than needed. I let the moment roll off my back as the water rolls down my throat, banished to mix with the too much vodka and too little food in my stomach.

     "Good girl," he whispers when I set the glass back on the counter. His hand cups my chin as his thumb rubs at the corner of my mouth, cleaning up a drop trying to escape.

     Tetsuro's fingers move slowly, tracing the lining of my jawbone, feathering over the skin of my neck, and caressing my shoulder before falling down my arm. Goose bumps are left in his wake, decorating my skin in tiny hills and my nerves with a soft chill. "Let's go finish up my business," he orders again, his hand cupping mine to help me off the barstool.

As soon as my heels click against the floor, his hand tugs mine upward, resting it on his bicep to sandwich my fingers between his arm and his side. If I didn't know any better, I'd think Tetsuro was using me as eye candy.

My stomach swishes as I'm led away from the bar, efficiently starting the war between the water and liquor in my system. My attention is focused on not getting sick on the shiny floor or the dress so expensive Morisuke refuses to tell me how much he paid for it.

At least, my attention is on my stomach until my name is called. "Ms Yaku," an older man in a suit similar to Tetsuro's calls; a huge grin on his face as he looks down his nose at me. His face seems familiar but I can't quite put my finger on it. "I assumed you'd be wrapped up with Russia's libero instead of our promoter." Ah, he must be one of the endless businessmen playing a hand with the Japanese official team; one of the men constantly filtering in and out of the office.

"I'm sure my brother has carved out time for me after his match," I respond, putting extra weight on the word 'brother'. Somehow, our parents mastered having four children that look nothing alike. Pair that with my last name and people lacking the understanding of Morisuke's behavior being rooted in trauma and not romance, and it leaves me in a sticky situation with my brother, on multiple occasions.

Confusion, disgust, and then understanding flicker across the man's face. "I was starting to wonder what the deal with the flowers was. Forgive me but the name 'Morisuke' didn't ring any bells."

That's another one of my brother's habits; sending a bouquet every Wednesday to the office, usually paired with a passive-aggressive note. Most of the time it's about not letting his friend overwork me or to drink water. This week's note was actually pleasant, Morisuke gushing about seeing me again after three months apart.

     The man's attention dies away from me, amping up as he talks to Tetsuro about Hinata's and Kenma's recent video together. I don't mind though, it gives me the time to focus on keeping the contents of my stomach in my stomach.

The next hour stays about the same. Tetsuro whisking me away after his conversation just to run into another suit-tailored man or floor-length dressed woman itching to talk about the players or promotion plans or the upcoming game. The whole time I focus on not getting sick and try to ignore the heat beckoning my skin to coat itself in a dewy sweat.

"Well I appreciate the offer, I think my date needs some air," Tetsuro's words rise above my inner voice trying to will my body heat to drop even a degree.

Date? Who's Tetsuro's date? My eyes scan the room, especially the space near the two of us. He didn't have a woman when he found me, though I don't know where he popped out of so maybe he did. Where's my brother? I should find him and ask him to drive me home.

The water quickly lost its battle with the liquor, no matter how much or how often Tetsuro was pouring it down my throat. My body is starting to feel that loss, most notably, my body heat is feeling it.

"Come along, Buttercup," he whispers in my ear, checking my grip on his arm before I'm pulled away from the small group of people he was speaking with. "We need to cool you down before you overheat."

"What about your date?" I ask, my words sounding slushy even to myself.

His usual chuckle fills the air, softer than the one he uses with his friends but deeper than the laughter he's been using all night. "My date's brother wasn't on the ball as much as usual. He let her drink more than I thought. Maybe we should have her throw up instead of just using water."

"Me?" I murmur, keeping my tone low as I fight off another wave of nausea. I shouldn't have had so many drinks, it's unprofessional for one, and for two, it doesn't feel too nice anymore.

"Yes, you, Buttercup," Tetsuro coos, holding the bathroom door open as he ushers me in. I slide past him, the chilliness of the room instantly coating my sticky skin. He follows after me, taking a second to lock the door before his hand is present on my stomach.

His head tips for the millionth time tonight, lips pressed against my ear as he paints out the agenda for the rest of the night. "After we let you get sick and get you cleaned up, we're going to go outside. I'm going to watch you bounce on my dick in the back of my car like you're craving so bad, of course, not without punishing you for ignoring me the past few days. Then, I'll return you to Yaku and we can finish off tomorrow when you come into work."

My stomach churns, but this time it's not caused by my overuse of vodka. I've been so focused on not getting sick on myself or any of Tetsuro's business partners that I've almost forgotten my uncared-for needs at the bar top.

Almost. Every flex of his bicep or long glance my way overrode my sickness for arousal, the same way it's doing now. "Is that what you want, Buttercup?" He whispers in my ear, pairing it with a dragged kiss behind my ear.

     "Yes."

[13a07s]

Greedy

(Tobio Kageyama Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Kwonrugger]

Requested by: Myself, per usual

Word Count: 3,781

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Brat, Dove/y, Lair, Greedy, Desperate

Hickeys/Scratching

Titty Play

Fingering

Degrading

Mean but soft Dom

Thigh Humping

Accidental Orgasm Denial

Choking

Raw Dogging

Thigh Shot

———————————————————————

     I can feel the sweat rolling down my back, sliding between my boyfriend and me. Despite the broken air conditioning in the hotel room, Tobio refuses to give me space, partly because he's stubborn and partly because he can't sleep without touching me.

     Well, because of all that, I'm lying on my stomach, his arms wrapped around my waist and tucked under me, uncomfortably pressed into my belly. His head is settled between my shoulder blades, his soft breathing mixing with the sweat coating my back to bring a hint of cooling to my body. Our legs are tangled together, only adding to the heat wrapping my body.

     All the blankets have been pushed to the floor, Tobio in a pair of boxers as I lay in booty shorts and a crop top. His added body weight on top of mine makes the heat so much worse. My skin feels like it's scorching, melting right off the bone and joining the puddles of sweat I'm sure are forming under us.

     "Tobio," I huff, rolling my shoulders to try and wake him out of his shallow sleep. He only stopped stirring five or six minutes ago, so he can't be too deep into sleep yet. "Tob," I call again, his name coming out whiner this time. "I'm hot. I want to sleep. You're not helping. Get off so I can cool down for a second," I continue, fully giving in to the tantrum as I thrash around under him.

     "Stop whiny. You sound like a brat," he finally answers, voice raspy from being jerked awake. "You'll be fine once you fall asleep."

"I can't fall asleep. It's too hot."

"You can," he sighs, his head shifting so he can rest his chin on my back. "You're just not tired enough." I let out another whine, this one long and pitched. "Don't do that. I don't like when you whine." No, he doesn't, which is why it's my go-to when I want to get my way, and right now I want to cool off enough to fall asleep.

"Tobi," I whimper, wiggling around under him again. "Fix it."

"Fine," he grumbles, tipping his head again as he picks some of his body weight off of me. A soft sigh releases from me, happy he's finally going to talk to the hotel staff about giving us a different room instead of 'leaving it be'.

     His mouth stumbles a trail up my back, coating his lips in the salty sweat that seems to drench every inch of my skin. Tobio's arms loosen from my waist, one sliding to rest against my hip as the other one shoves its way down my exposed stomach, struggling to move from being sandwiched between the mattress and me. "Move your hips, Dove," he grumbles, tightening his hold to move them himself.

     Tobio lifts my hips upward, just enough to freely move his hand under me. Despite the barely arching and him moving off of me earlier, we're pressed against each other again. He nuzzles at my shirt, pushing the material until it's balled up on the back of my neck. He trails his kisses across the newly exposed skin of my shoulders. One hand keeps inching down as the other one loops around my side again, racing up my body.

     "This isn't fixing it," I breathe out, a different warmth quickly crawling across my skin.

     "Yes, it is," he softly argues, nimble fingers dipping past my waistband. "If you're tired enough, you'll sleep. I'm just helping to waste some energy," Tobio babbles, the most eager of his hands shoving its way under the short shirt I'm wearing, happily cupping my breast.

His fingertips toy with my boob for a second before catching my nipple, instantly pinching it. "Tobio," I whine, my hips jerking against him.

"Dove," he murmurs, still half asleep but his hands are very much awake. "Stop squirming," he orders, lips latching on my shoulder blade, quickly turning the kiss into a rough suck. The hand down my shorts toys with me, his middle finger rolling through my pussy. Up and down, up and down; he pinches my nipple every time the pad of his finger rolls over my clit.

My back starts to arch, Tobio's gentle teasing slowly building my lust. "You're teasing," I whimper, jerking my hips again in hopes of his finger slipping in. I don't get what I want.

"Stop squirming," he grumbles again, his hips working against mine to shove me back into position. Tobio's finger settles on my clit, slowly circling it in tone with him rolling my nipple between his thumb and finger.

A soft ache starts blossoming from the spot on my shoulder he's sucking on. The ache mixes with my arousal, tying my stomach in all kinds of knots. "Tobs," I hiss, my needs lacking fulfillment starting to make my body feel like it's vibrating.

"Dove," he mutters, his tongue sliding over the forming bruise. "Take your shirt off," he orders, nuzzling the material of my crop top again. I eagerly obey, squirming around under him so I can wiggle my shirt off. The clothing is thrown to the floor and added to the piled-up blankets.

Tobio's hand drops away from my titty, disappearing behind me as his fingertip pushes on my clit just a tad more. The sloppy sound of him sucking on them only excites me more, my hips grinding against his hand and the mattress for just an ounce more of stimulation. There's a popping sound, his fingers leaving his mouth and then a "You're greedy. You know that, right?"

"I know, I'm sorry, I know," I babble, irritation from lack of and the need for attention quickly making me more desperate.

"You should be, Dovey," he coos, pulling his hand away from me. It's quickly replaced by two of his spit-soaked fingers, toying with my hole, stretching it but not allowing his fingers to dip past the first knuckle. "You woke me up knowing I have a big game against Italy tomorrow just because your pussy tingled."

"I woke you up because I was hot," I whimper, trying to shove my hips further downward, aching for more. For more of literally anything he's willing to give me. It's not fair how quickly he makes me needy. It's not fair that he always turns it on me. I just wanted to cool down, he's the one that turned it sexual and the one that made me even more bothered by the heat.

"Lair."

I tremble more because of the degrading. "I'm not a lair," I continue to whine, propping myself on all fours, deepening the curve of my back. My hips shift backward with the movement, my ass pressed against Tobio harder and my boobs pushed outward because of the arching.

He shifts too, settling on his knees but still bent over me. "You look like a porn star," he mumbles, the feeling of his eyes scorching over my skin. "Are you trying to be an amateur porn star?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You're acting desperate." Tobi asks, finally inching down to his second knuckle. The shaky moan that rips from my throat is embarrassing. More soft moans spill from me, eased out by the soft suckles and the few nibbles he paints my back with.

It's not fair. Why does my boyfriend get to be so hot? So good at playing me? So mean? So quick to make me desperate by the smallest of touches?

My head quickly nods, hips bucking backward again. I need him deeper, I need him to move faster, I need more. "It's pathetic how much you get off on being talked down to. A greedy cunt gets wet from being treated like this. Is your cunt wet? Is it?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. Tobio, I'm sorry. Please?" I ramble, continuing to rock my hips.

He lets out a sigh, his fingers thrusting deep into me. Another embarrassingly broken moan falls from my mouth, my pussy finally getting the attention it wants. "It's okay, Dove. You're a pretty girl, even if you are greedy and desperate," he mutters, lips brushing across my spine, spilling shivers across my body. "My pretty girl," he adds, slowly pulling his fingers out of me before inching them back in.

"Your pretty girl. I'm your pretty girl," I mumble, the attention I desperately wanted quickly not being enough anymore. "Please Tobio?"

     His hips roll against my ass, his dick pressed against me and starting to harden. "You sound desperate. Are you desperate? You're certainly greedy. Is this not enough for you? You're ungrateful."

     "I'm not desperate. I'm not greedy. I need more, please," I whimper, shifting my weight so I can shoot my hand down, gripping the wrist that's resting against my stomach.

     Tobio's fingers stall in me, unable to thrust in and out because of my grip. "You're not greedy?" He taunts, curling his fingers in me, keeping the slow teasing rhythm. "I should be sleeping and you're whining that it's not enough. That's greedy."

     "I'm not greedy," I repeat, nails digging into his wrist, rocking my hips again. "Tobi, please." He clicks his tongue at me, yanking his hand to take away what little stimulation he was giving me. "Tobio," I huff, shoving my butt against his boner.

     "Nope," he mutters, hands gripping my hips and pushing them off of himself. "Greedy girls don't get what they want, so I'm going back to bed."

     "What?" I yelp, jerking my head around to look at him. Tob moves from behind me, flopping on the bed next to me. Disapproving noises spill from my lips as I watch him stretch out in the bed, eyes shut as he lays on his back. "Tobio," I whimper, darting toward him, settling with his thigh between my legs.

     "Dovey," he hums, a hand jumping to grip one of my titties. His thumb rolls over my nipple, his other fingers squeezing my flesh. My hips roll against his thigh, grinding against the defined muscle to stimulate myself. "Greedy girl," Tobio coos, peaking at me with a soft grin on his face. "So desperate to get off that you're willing to hump my leg until your cunt is drooling all over me."

"You're being mean. Why are you so mean?" I babble, my hands pressed against his chest to steady myself as I ride his thigh.

"I'm sorry, Dove," he coos, twirling my nipple between his fingers again. "I'm just tired," Tobio hums, dragging himself into a seated position. His back is to the headboard and his dark blue eyes are locked on my face, watching me pathetically trying to get myself off. 

     "Tob," I try whining again, my hands jumping to cling to his shoulder. My nails are instantly digging into his muscles, clinging to them, tearing at them, as I hump him like a dog.

     His grin only grows at my little act, his free hand jumping up to play with my neglected boob. "Dove?" Tobio calls back, skillful fingers twirling, pinching, and tugging at my nipples. "Stop whining and tell me what you want."

     "You," I exhale, my breath rising the closer I get to finishing. I change my mind, I don't want Tobio, I just want to cum. An approving hum leaks from him, his hands leaving my chest to grip my hips. "No! No, no, no, no," I almost cry when he lifts my hips off of him.

     "You're fine, greedy but fine," he lectures, continuing to pull me forward until our noses bump each other. "Give me a kiss," Tobio murmurs, fingertips sliding past my waistband again, slowly pushing my shorts off of me. I happily oblige, brushing my lips against his as my hands slide to wrap around his neck.

Our kisses heat up with every passing second it takes him to tug my shorts off of me. By the time they're around my ankles, ready to be tugged full off of me, Tobio's tongue is exploring my mouth. His tongue rolls over mine in tune with his lips dancing with me. A displeased groan escapes me when he pulls away, pearly teeth pressed into an egotistical grin. "Greedy girl," he coos, pulling my shorts off and tossing them off the bed.

When his hands are off of me, my hips instantly fall back down, grinding against his thigh again. "I know. I'm greedy. I'm so greedy. I need," I cut myself off with a bumpy moan, my hands knotting with the hair on the nape of his neck.

Tobio chuckles at me, the tone of the laughter soft and entertained. "You need what, Dove?" He hums, a hand on my hip, helping me ride his thigh. "To cum? Is my greedy girl so greedy that she needs to cum too? You can't stand just being edged, you just have to finish too," he rambles, his eyes crawling across my body, sticking on my titties before falling to the mess slowly leaking onto his boxers.

"Please?" I murmur, yanking on his hair before my fingers loosen my hold. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry," I ramble, running my fingers through his hair.

"You're fine, Dove," he mutters, his free hand shooting back to rub at his neck, soothing the ache I'm sure the hair tug left. "My greedy, Dovey," he teases, both arms on my hips before he flips us over.

Tobio's lips explore my chest, his mouth sucking on any skin he can reach. My back crashes to the mattress, legs wrapped around his thigh and arms tighter around his neck. He's settled on top of me, pressing his leg against my dripping cunt, continually rubbing against me. One of his strong hands settles on the pillow next to my head, holding his weight.

His other hand is sliding down his stomach, inching toward his boxers. My hands loosen before falling away from him, colliding with the bed sheet and balling it up. "Tobio," I whimper, my back curving to work with his leg. My eyes are locked on his boner, chilled claws ticking down my spine when his dick pushes past his waistband.

"Patience, greedy," he mutters before his mouth latches on my boob, sucking on my nipples as his tongue slides over it. My body is buzzing with excitement, sparks of my approaching orgasm making my pussy tingle and waves of arousal coating my chest from Tobio's fixation on my breast. His hands grip my knees, tugging my legs off of his thigh.

"Tobio," I hiss, disappointment and irritation from another stumped orgasm replacing the heavenly vibrations that were just coating my veins.

"Hush, you're fine," he grumbles, situating my legs over his shoulders before his long fingers settle on my throat. Tobio's lips dance over my breast, pressing me further into a ball so he can reach them. "Here you go, greedy," he huffs, his breath rolling over my spit-soaked nipples, making them harden even more.

The tip of his dick pushes into me, instantly sparking the edge of my orgasm again. "One," he mutters, head lifting, his forehead settled against mine as his eyes stare straight into my soul. The fingers wrapped around my throat tightening the slightest. "Two," he adds, pushing himself further into me. "Three... four." For every inch that slips in, Tobio's hand tightens around my neck. "Five... six." His head falls to my titties again, kitty licks sliding against each nipple before he looks up at me again. "Seven... and eight."

My legs are already trembling, tightening around Tobio and squeezing his cheeks. Wetness leaks from me, coating his balls resting against me. His tongue clicks a couple of times as he looks over me, almost bored eyes scanning my face. "Your pussy is still trying to suck me in. Are eight inches not enough? Do you really need more? Are you that greedy?" He taunts, my cheeks heating from being called out o my pussy clenching around him.

"You're perfect. I swear. Perfect. Tob, please," I babble, my voice wheezy from my airflow being cut smaller.

He hums, eyes glued to my breasts as his fingers relax just a smudge. "I should go back to sleep. I have a big day tomorrow." A whimper mixed with disappointment and need squeaks out, breaking some of the boredom in his eyes, and causing his lust to start taking over. "You'd probably spend all night humping my leg though, wouldn't you? Too horny and greedy not to get your way."

"Please?"

Tobio rolls his eyes, a grin toying the edges of his mouth. "Fine, Dove," he mutters, failing to hide the excitement in his voice. He drags himself out of me, slowly inching his way back in. "Who's my greedy girl?" He coos, thrusts picking up speed as his lips slide across my boobs, littering them with kisses.

"Me. I'm greedy. I'm your greedy girl," I instantly give in, degrading myself so he doesn't get any ideas about denying me again. My hands release the sheets balled up in my fingers, jumping to cling to the wrist wrapped around my throat. "It's me, Tobio."

"Ya, it is," he huffs, hips snapping against mine, adding to the aches starting to form. The position hurts my joints, being folded in half, and pushed into a ball so Tobio can enjoy having his face squeezed and getting to suck on my breasts. "My greedy girl. My greedy pussy. So desperate for me. All mine."

"All yours," I echo, squirming under him. His dick feels good, I love being split open by Tobio's cock, but it's not enough.

The squirming catches his attention, his thrusts slowing down as his eyes scorch over my body, trying to figure out what's going on. "Always wanting more," he grunts, moving himself on top of me. More of Tobio's weight is pressed into me, helping his dick reach deeper and adding more pressure to the chokehold he has on my throat.

With his weight off his free hand, it slides down, the pads of his fingertips instantly finding my clit. "Better, greedy?" He grumbles, his hips snapping against mine again.

"Yes," I hiss, nails digging into his wrists and my thighs crushing his face harder.

Tobio grumbles, spilling out insults about my greediness, a few insults being broken up by his grunts. His cock is never out of me long, plunging right back into me as soon as he pulls out. "Do you hear that?" He mumbles, latching on my nipple for a second. "Do you hear how wet you are? How sloppy your cunt sounds? It's only going to sound sloppier when you cream all over my cock."

The degrading and teasingly slow swirls to my clit do it for me, finally, bringing the orgasm that's been denied twice already tonight. "Tobio, Tobio, Tobio," I moan, releasing his wrist to reach for his shoulders. My nails tear at him, clawing up and down his chest and shoulders, unable to keep a grip on him because of his continuous thrusts. My chest pumps quicker as my orgasm washes over me, the choking I'm receiving making it difficult to keep up with my breaths.

Tobio is unfazed by the scratching, but his fingers do loosen around my neck, allowing more air to pump into my lungs as I come undone. "Breathe, Dove, calm yourself," he murmurs, his thrusts slowing - but not stopping - as his fingers massage my neck. "Calm down, you're doing great, greedy girl."

"Tobio, Tobi, Tob," I whimper, finally being able to grip his shoulders, using my hold to pull him closer. "Please!"

"Calm down," he coos, but he does give in, thrusting into me faster. My head is filled with a soft cloudy buzzing. Tobi was trying to be nice, trying to let me take a breather as I wind down, but I'm too greedy to take the offer. Too greedy to allow him to stop while his dick is still hard, still prepared to pump me full. "Greedy girl," he insults again, soft sucks being littered across my breasts, chunks of my flesh being sucked into his mouth.

"Please?" I whine again, tears prickling the corners of my eyes. Everything feels like a lot. Tobio buried in me, rubbing my pussy, his fingers feathering over my clit, his mouth and tongue sliding over my breasts, paying attention to my nipples. Still, I need him until he's spent.

"I'm almost there, Dove. I promise, just hold on for a second," Tobio murmurs, hand tightening around my throat again. His breath is huffy, his end approaching quickly like he promised. His head snaps up, leaving my nipples sore and soaked from his constant sucking. "Needy, greedy, dove," he hisses, hand squeezing until my oxygen is completely cut off, filling my head with a new layer of fogginess.

     The thrusting of Tobio's hips picks up, snapping faster, pressing into me harder. His eyes stay locked on mine, sharp and focused, the same look he has right before the ball falls into his hands, ready to be perfectly set in the middle of an intense game. "Fuck," he almost whimpers, breaking the burning tension that was spilling from his eyes.

     Both his eyes and dick tear away from me, cum shooting out of his tip. His movement isn't fast enough for him though, the warm stickiness coating my thighs. "Damn it," he groans, fingers loose and his head buried in my titties once again. "I wanted to finish on your boobs," Tobio mutters, brushing feathery light kisses across my skin. "You make me greedy too, Dove. Greedy for your pussy."

     I can't help the smile that pulls at my lips, enjoying the fact Tobio is as needy for me as I am for him. "Next time," I hum, careful fingers crawling across his shoulders, feeling for the already puffing scratches that coat them.

     After a few moments, he moves off of me, his actions slow and careful. "Are you tired now?" Tobio asks, his whole body freezing when he moves my legs, my hip popping from finally being let out of the position it was stuck in.

"Ya, I am," I mutter, sleepiness washing over me like a spell as soon as his question is out.

Instantly, Tobio's attention is on my hip, massaging it as he lathers it with kisses. "You stay right there," he mutters pulling away to climb out of bed.

      My droopy eyes follow his movements, watching him head toward the bathroom. "Gladly."

     He looks over his shoulder for a second, a soft smile on his face as his blue eyes sparkle at me. "What a greedy Dove I have."

[13a07s]

Cost You

(Tooru Oikawa)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to kimmy_begopart]

Requested by: Me

Word Count: 3,450

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Hickeys

Attempted Fingering

Name Calling: Baby Doll, Daddy, Spoiled Brat

Slight Choking

Pornographic Themed Photos Described

Part two?

———————————————————————

     Tooru's lips have my skin on fire, more so than the Argentina sun ever could. His hands recently moved from their spots around my throat and on my hip to gripping the carbine copy of his jersey I'm wearing, balling up the material to pull me closer to him. "You're so hot," he almost whimpers, tongue sliding against the spot he was just sucking on.

     As soon as the compliment is out, his mouth is attached to the spot again, sucking on it even harder. He has no shame, the suctioning sloppy sound of his desperate attempt to mark my neck filling the empty locker room. A few whines mix with the erotic noises, Tooru humping me like a dog in heat.

     "To," I murmur, trying to shake the fog out of my head and loosen my grip on his hair. The skin under his lips sizzles from the past four or five minutes he's been working it over. It almost hurts at this point. I can only imagine how dark the bruise is going to be by the time he's done. "You're going to... to be distracted during... your game."

     "Fine by me," Tooru mutters, back to comforting my hickey with his tongue. The soft kitty licks make it sizzle more, prickling the corners of my eyes with tears. "I'm always distracted with you in the bleachers," he teases, a soft chuckle breezing over my skin. "Especially today, with my jersey number hanging on your titties, and these tiny shorts showing off your delicious thighs, so tight I can see the exact shape of your ass," he mumbles, a hand falling away from my shirt to the front of my shorts.

     "You look so sexy. I'm going to be serving with a boner all game," Tooru continues to mumble, snapping the button of my pants open. Shivers race down my spine as the popping noise fills the locker room, anticipation quickly making me quiver.

     His hand slides against my stomach as slowly as his tongue slides against the promised hickey. Just as his fingertips dip past the band of my panties, the room fills with a loud knock. Tooru chuckles as he pulls away from me, slender fingers buttoning my shorts again. "Oikawa, line up in fifteen. Hurry up," someone yells, the voice muffled by the still-closed door.

     An audible - and embarrassing- whine rips from my lungs, my body and mind both pissed about the teasing I just received. Tooru chuckles at me again, tugging on the belt loops of my shorts. "Sorry, Baby Doll. I have some Australian ass to beat."

     "Beat my ass," I whine, slouching backward.

     "After the game," he coos, arms around my back to stop me from tumbling to the floor, ruining my plans to continue my tantrum. Tooru's arms are tight around me, his half-on pressing against me as his lips attach to my neck again, stamping soft kisses against it this time.

     "Stop being so whiney, Baby Doll. After I win, and all the after-game stuff is done, we'll spend the rest of the evening locked away in our hotel room. I'll use my hands and mouth you love so much to make you cum until you can't think straight."

     "Promise?" I sigh, letting myself melt into his kisses.

     "Promise. Then, tomorrow we'll do the same thing after we go sightseeing and try some genuine chicken parmigiana. I'll rock your whole damn world, Baby Doll."

     I let out another sigh, finally releasing his hair. "You're so mean to me," I whine, new shivers creeping down my body when his tongue slides against my throat again.

     Tooru pulls on me, straightening the both of us. "I treat you well. You get to travel because of my job. There's not a thing in this world you need or want," he coos, rubbing Eskimo kisses against my nose. "I spoil you rotten, you little brat."

     "I'm not a brat," I whine, the brattiness in my voice ringing in my ears. "And there is something I want in this world that you won't give me. Your dick."

"Oh, my poor Baby Doll," Tooru teases, his cooing fake this time. "My poor gets everything she wants, gets to spend a week in Australia, blew ten thousand dollars because she 'likes looking' at a pretty art piece, Baby Doll. You're just so mistreated all because I have to go work to so you can keep living your best life. I'm so mean for ensuring you can keep buying all that pretty art you like."

     I whine again, lulling my head back and forth as I try to fight the smile curling on my lips. "Spoiled brat," he repeats, voice still light and flirty as he lifts me off my feet.

     My legs wrap around his torso, my hands buried in his locks again. "You're so mean," I continue to fuse, burying my head in his hair.

     "Oh I know, Baby," Tooru hums, his strong hands cupping my ass, squeezing it after every few steps. I tingle every time he grips me, whining even more as he carries me toward the locker room exit. "I'm so sorry you have to survive two whole hours not being the center of my attention," he continues to tease, shouldering the door open.

     "I might just survive..." I murmur, burying my head in his neck once we're out on the court.

     Instantly, a million flashes flicker, the sound of cameras going off and fans cheering booming in my ears. Tooru checks my legs, tightening them around himself before his hands jump up to help cup my face. His head tilts down, his lips pressed against me so I can hear him better. "But?" He mutters, pecking my cheek as he continues carrying me around.

     "But it's going to cost you," I tease, biting my lip when I feel the jerk of Tooru's body. He's a prideful man, one that has told me a million times he feels the most pride - and the horniest - watching me use his Amex card.

     "Perfectly fine by me," he hisses out, the groan he wants to let out stuck in his throat. Tooru nudges my head when his steps stop, his hands still pressed against my cheeks. I obey the soft order, picking my head up. "There's my Baby Doll," he hums, his hands sliding back to run through my hair before dropping back down to my ass.

I nibble on my lip some more because of the soft acknowledgment of my existence. I'm pretty sure the only time Tooru's mind isn't drenched in me is when he's on the court. Even then I'm not entirely sure that I'm not his every other thought. "Here I am," I whisper, relaxing my legs as he pulls me off of him, gently setting me on my feet.

His hands fall to my hips, squeezing them as he looks down at me. I break away from the staring contest first, my eyes flickering around the court. Most of the players are wrapped up with their partners as well, cuddling up and drenching them in attention before the game starts. A few single stragglers are stretching or bouncing volleyballs off the walls as they wait out the rest of the time before the lineup starts.

"Look at me, Baby Doll. I want to see your pretty eyes," Tooru coos, inching down so his nose is rubbing against mine again. When my head tilts up, leaving just a centimeter between our lips, cameras go off like crazy.

The sound makes him smile more, eyes sparkling with pride from the attention and anticipation for the game. "You, my perfect girl," he starts, a hand sliding under my hair to grip the back of my neck. "Are the best win of my life," Tooru finishes, finally closing the gap between us.

My hands jerk forward, balling up the front of his jersey as I kiss him back. Soft chuckles spill into the kiss, Tooru finding amusement in my still present tingling need for him. A huge grin rests on his face when he pulls away from me, his fingers busying themselves with twirling the ends of my hair. "You have to go now, Baby Doll."

"I know," I exhale, glancing around the court again. A few of the players have started leading their partners to the hallway where security waits to walk us to our front-row seats.

He pecks my lips again before pulling away from me, no longer wrapped up or pressed against me. His hand does slide into mine, easily taking its place before he leads me forward. When we get to the door, Tooru holds it open for me, coating my face in kisses and refusing to let me go.

"Come on, Oikawa. You're not going off to war, you'll be fine," one of his wing spikers teases. He's an older gentleman, on the team for seven years, and married to his wife for nine. She's a nice lady too, always insisting that us 'younger' pro-partners don't go anywhere alone; she's the mom of the group.

"I know," Tooru mutters, his cheeks dusted a light pink from embarrassment. "See you later, Baby Doll," he murmurs, focusing back on me long enough to say goodbye and kiss me once more before he fully parts from me.

As soon as the door is closed behind him, one of the guards steps towards me, holding out my VIP badge. "Thank you," I murmur, looping the lanyard around my neck. The guard grunts, motioning toward the group already heading up the hallway.

I quickly walk forward, the mom of the group instantly opening up a spot for me to squeeze into. "There you are, Sweetheart," she greets, beaming as she looks at me. "Seems like our setter is pumped for the game," she teases, poking the still-stinging bruise on my neck.

"Uh," I stutter, cheeks heating up and a hand shooting up to hide the hickey. "Ya, Tooru is pretty excited." I'll have to yell at him about not leaving hickeys right before a game.

—————————————

Oikawa Tooru: Quickie Before the Argentina vs Australia Game?

My eyes roll over the short TikTok video essay, skimming the comments as I wait for Tooru to finish changing. Like always, there's trolling, hate, admiration, and jealousy mixed in the comment section. The video is littered with pictures and snippets bits of us; him carrying me out of the locker room, our kiss before we parted for the game, and a few blown-out pictures of the very dark hickey on my neck.

Our clingy moments before the game didn't go unnoticed - nor did my hickey. TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter have been going off nonstop since the game started; my accounts were tagged and shouted out a million times during the two hours.

I skip down my feed, focusing on a different snip-it of gossip surrounding us.

Argentina's Number Thirteen Obsessed or in Love?

The title makes me silently giggle, catching my curiosity. I click play on the video, skimming the comments once again.

There are two main parts of the video, the first noting Tooru's constant change of his Lock Screen. There are about twenty to thirty different blown-out pictures of his phone; all different pictures of me or us. It's something I'm aware of, my boyfriend changing his wallpaper every day.

Tooru easily has hundreds of photos of me, which is why he constantly changes the picture on his phone. He insists he 'wants to love them all equal' and can 'only do that if he changes it daily'. It's one of the small things he does that makes my heart skip.

The second part of the video is focused on the mid-game break he took. His coach subbed him out for half of the third set, giving Tooru time to rest and rehydrate while they had a good lead going.

There are only two photos in this part of the video. One is an image of him scrolling through his photos, the big bold letters of 'Baby Doll' titling the album. The other photo is an image of him nibbling on his cheek as he scans a photo of me on the beach back home. The photo on his phone is blown out, my boyfriend caught being a perv as he stares at my boobs spilling out of my swim top.

I roll my eyes, both at Toru and the TikTok, swiping to slide back out of my notifications before switching over to my feed. I scroll two or three times before a video of him pops up on my feed.

"Oikawa! Oikawa! I have a question!" A girl's voice spills out from the audio.

"What's up, cutie?" My boyfriend answers, sending a wink and throwing up a peace sign as he acknowledges her.

"Is your girlfriend here?"

Tooru chuckles as he looks at the camera, his eyes lighting up at the question. "Yes, my beautiful Baby Doll is in the audience, like always."

"Instagram is blowing up with a picture of you looking at her photos. Is that something you do a lot?"

"Well, duh," he teases, glancing at his phone to unlock it before showing it to the camera. His phone is still open on his photo app, showing off his photo album full of pictures and videos of me. "I can't hold my Baby during the game but I sure as shit can look at her."

"That's so cute!" The girl gushes, squeals spilling from her before the video starts again.

This time I shake my head, a bit embarrassed with how much Tooru gushes over me. I swipe over to my TikTok notifications again, glancing through them in search of something else to watch. It doesn't take long before a mention from my boyfriend stumbles across the screen.

I tap on the notification, a video, and his comment pops up. It's a video of me cheering, standing on my feet as I shriek about Tooru's successful setter dump. The video is captioned 'This is the type of girlfriend every player dreams of'.

'Damn right, @Oikawa.s_Baby_Doll is my biggest cheerleader' the comment reads, filling me with even more embarrassment and giddiness. Tooru is such a simp on and off social media when it comes to me. Of course, the video itself and his comment are a mix of hate-filled speeches about us, me, and the hickey, weaved in between girls thirsting for my boyfriend and people complimenting our relationship.

     My phone vibrates in my hand, making my eyes flicker upward to see the notification. The colorful Instagram symbol is in the left corner of the notification, Oikawa.Tooru mentioned you in a post is squiggled next to it.

     I tilt my phone down, glancing around the stands and the court in search of the man responsible for the notification. I don't find him, all that's left is the player's partners and a few official people of the gym.

     With no sight of him, I decide to click on the notification to see what he posted. Instantly, the app is open and the post is pulled up. There are five sections on the post, the front one being the TikTok of me cheering for him.

     In case anyone forgot, @Oikawa.s_Baby_Doll is my #1 Cheerleader. Thank you for supporting me today, Baby Doll. Oh, and for always helping me calm my nerves before and after a game ;)

     .

     .

     .

     A huge thank you to @ArgentinaVolleyball. Thank you to @AustraliaVolleyball for a good game (and a win). I also would like to thank...

     My eyes skim over the rest of the tags, most of them being teammates, news producers, and other official businesses of the volleyball world.

     Once the post is fully read, my eyes jump back up to the photo line, watching the video once more before scrolling onto the next section. My cheeks heat up as I scan the picture. At some point in the locker room, Tooru snapped a picture of me. More specifically, of his hand around my throat, my head tilted back, cheeks flustered, and his fingers positioned just right to show off the hickey he was working on.

     "I'm going to kill him," I mutter to myself, swiping to look at the next photo. This one only makes my cheeks heat up more. It's the picture from our afterparty from his game last week against Canada. I'm sat on his back, a shirtless Tooru smiling like crazy as I'm in nothing but his jersey, massaging his back for him. The general public doesn't know, but I know that picture was taken five minutes after I got railed in his official jersey.

     The fourth section is a bit better, as in the public viewing it anyway. In the muted video all you can see is a shirtless Tooru. My fingertips trail over the calligraphy fonted tattoo of my nickname pressed into the skin over his heart as silent words spill from him.

     You can't see it from the video, but I know in the moment he's buried nine inches deep, taking a five-second breather between rounds. I also know what he's saying in the video. Tooru is spilling his guts about 'not being able to wait to fuck me with his Olympic medal around my neck'.

     "Son of a bitch," I murmur under my breath, more curses falling as I slide to the next picture.

     Luckily, this is the last section, and honestly, isn't as bad as the others; kind of. I'm dressed up like a cheerleader - one of Tooru's favorite outfits to see me in. A bit of skin shows, a chunk of thigh between my skirt and knee highs, and a thick strip of my stomach, but nothing too bad. The outfit, pom poms I'm holding, and the bow in my hair are all the white and pale blue colors of his team. The hand not holding his phone is buried under one of the garters, squeezing my thigh hard enough that even the image picks up on the indent it makes on my flesh.

"What are you doing?" The question startles me, making me jump and drop my phone to the ground. "Sorry, Baby Doll, I didn't mean to scare you," Tooru laughs, leaning to press a kiss to my head.

"I was looking at the post you tagged me in," I answer, arching down to pick up my phone. "You did great today, Lovey."

His smile grows at the compliment, Tooru leaning down to wrap his hand around my throat gently. "Thank you, Baby," he mutters, peppering clumsy kisses that coat my neck and his fingers.

     "That post is going to cost you too, by the way, and not just a lecture from your publicist and your team manager."

     A groan sticks in his throat, a soft coughing sound coming out instead as his hand tightens around my throat. "Spend all my money, Baby Doll."

     "Maybe I will. Especially if you're going to be a pervy daddy that posts pictures like that of me," I grumble, fake anger and uprightness in my voice.

     Another cough-covered groan and a tighter grip, this one cutting off my airway a bit. "Fine by me. Spend every last cent I have so I have an excuse to make you more."

     "Pervert," I giggle, shaking my head so he'll let me go; a request he instantly obeys.

     "You're fine, brat. You're covered in all of them and besides, the one video of us having sex only has your arm in it. Nothing is going to happen besides my publicist getting pissed because the post is 'too suggestive'," Tooru mutters, a huge grin on his face as his eyes drink me. He only gets more excited when I finally climb to my feet. "Well, and a missed call and pissy voicemail from Iwa-Chan."

"Ya? What did he have to say to you?" I ask, situating myself so I can take my dedicated place next to him.

"Oh, you know," Tooru starts, one arm wrapping around my shoulders as the other one waves around as if it could wave away his friend's lecture. "That the Argentina sun must have fried the rest of my brain cells and that I'm as 'Shittykawa as ever' and to call him back 'to get my full lecture'."

I giggle at the quotes, leaning against Tooru as he leads me away from the bleachers and toward the gym exit. "You know the team is going to give you shit about the post too, right?"

     "I don't mind, Baby Doll. If the cost of loving you is my whole paycheck and some teasing from the guys, I'm more than happy to pay it."

[13a07s]

You Deserve Better

(Asahi Azumane)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to azuriota]

Requested by: Yours Truly

Word Count: 3,561

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Mental Health

Anxiety

Mental Breakdown

———————————————————————

     The teddy bear energy that radiates off my boyfriend filters into my club room before the sight of the man is present. The other members of the band can sense it too, soft snickers being sent my way, a few soft teases mixed in.

     "Honey, are you in here?" Asahi's voice quickly joins the joking, a soft knock on the club room door ringing out.

     "Hey," I greet, sending him a reassuring smile. Some of the anxiety melts from his face, his smile cementing a bit more. "How was practice?" I ask, quickly - but carefully - putting my things into my cubby.

     "Tiring," Asahi answers, his focus on slowly working his way into the room, making sure not to bump into or break any of the instruments or parts littered around the room. "Noya tried his rolling thunder move again which used to not be a big deal but this one time - "

     "This one time, at band practice." The volume of the room explodes, every member piping up with the well-known quote.

     Asahi nervously laughs, awkwardly standing behind me. "I don't know what that means."

     "It's a quote from American Pie," I fill in the gaps for him, settling on the carpeted floor so I can pull my band shoes off and slip my day-to-day shoes on. "Anyway, rolling thunder is a big deal now, why?"

     "He... uh... tripped Tanaka and Coach band the move for a while," he finishes his statement, nervous hands toying with my hair before he scares himself into stopping the soft touches.

     Once my shoes are on, I jump onto my feet, tugging my school bag out of its place before turning around. "Ready?" I ask, situating the strap comfortably on myself.

"Ya," he murmurs, eyeing me for a second before his head snaps away, a soft pink slithering across his cheeks.

I smile to myself, enjoying Asahi's easiness to embarrassment as I make my way out of the room, saying goodbye and waving to a few of the other members. He follows after me, trudging around like a shy Great Dane, worried about knocking something over with its wagging tail.

He eases up when we get outside of the club room, an audible sigh leaving him as his shoulders relax. Once I'm sure Asahi is fully relaxed - or at least as relaxed as his nerves will ever allow - I slide my hand around his arm, my fingertips clinging to his bicep. "You have a game tomorrow, right?" I ask, glancing up at him before I lead us forward.

"Ya, well, a practice match," he stumbles out, happily letting me take the lead as I direct us down the stairs and away from the club rooms.

"That's like a 'fake' game, right? No actual reward for winning? Just some in-game practice?"

"Ya," he sighs, voice a bit airy as he trudges along beside me. I don't have to glance to know what his face looks like. His cheeks are pink, like always, eyes soft and pretty much stamped with hearts as he stares at me.

Asahi is an easy man to love. It doesn't take much to make him happy. Get along with his friends, take an interest in volleyball and his fashion knowledge, and listen when he talks. That's the whole groundwork for making him feel cared for. His anxiety is a harder part to care for, but even that can be pretty easy. For the most part, he just needs reassurance.

"Um... since tomorrow is Saturday and it's against Nekoma I probably won't be available most of the day," he rushes out, his free arm jerking to the side so he can lay his hand on top of mine.

"That's alright. Practice is important," I tell him, knocking my head back so I can look up at him. I squeeze his arm as I send him a smile, hoping it'll help calm down any thoughts starting to brew in his mind. "Plus we have a band meeting tomorrow to discuss the upcoming school club presentations. I'll pop my head into the gym to say hello and see a few of your spikes. Maybe I'll even get spoiled and get to see you serve."

That does the trick, Asahi's muscles relaxing again under my soft reassurance. "I don't know if I'll play as good with you watching."

"I went to all your official games last year and you played fine," I remind him, leading the two of us out of the school gates and off school property.

"Ya, you did," he mutters, a weary smile on his face as his hand messes with the bun his hair is tied in. "Anyway, I just brought it up 'cause... well... um... since I'll busy most of tomorrow and usually we... you know... Saturdays are kind of our day to spend... together. I was just... I want to - "

"Asahi?" I interpret, my footsteps falling to a stop, his quickly ending too.

"Ya, Hon?" He mutters, looking down at me, a bit of curiosity coating his face. It's nice to see something other than worry or anxiety painting his features.

I turn to the side, my head tilted and the side of my body pressed into his arm so I can look up at Asahi better. "Since you're going to be busy all day tomorrow, could we get dinner tonight instead?"

I can see my question working its way into his thoughts, a slow smile growing on his lips as he processes my words. "Of course, I'd like that," he mutters, pink quickly joining the huge grin on his face.

I jump up to my tippy toes, plopping a kiss on his cheek before I settle flat on my feet again. An excited peep spills from him, one that I don't acknowledge so he doesn't get self-conscious about it. Instead, I start our footsteps again, making our way down the street, toward the neighborhood we live in.

Our walk is quiet and soothing for a few moments. The sun setting, the soft final chirps of the birds, the slow melting of the stars into the sky. Even the long shadows starting to form on the road bring a different kind of comfortable beauty.

"Honey?" Asahi calls, pulling my attention away from the soft admiration I was giving our walk. I let out a hum, once again tilting my head back to look up at him. "I don't think there's anything open this late. I'm sorry."

"The Sakanoshita Market should be open, right?"

The smile that's always on his face drops away, a soft frown replacing his pearly grin. "I'm not taking you to a convenience store for dinner, Hon."

"Why not? As long as we get to eat together, I don't care where we go to dinner. Sakanoshita is fine, it's open, and it's on the way home. Seems perfect to me," I mutter, shrugging my shoulders once I'm done talking.

A big part of Asahi's anxieties surrounding our relationship is his insecurities and worries I'm going to leave. The biggest root of that issue is money. He's always worried he's not living up to or offering enough of the glamour he believes a boyfriend should offer his girlfriend. No matter how many times I tell him I don't care and that material love is something I don't need, it never seems to sink in.

     He sucks in his cheek, nibbling on it as he thinks my statement over. "You deserve better than Sakanoshita," Asahi whispers, looking anywhere but me.

"They have the best rice balls I've ever had. I'm excited to have them for dinner," I try to soothe, leaning against the ace as we walk. Silence falls between us again, Asahi buried in his thoughts, and me buried away too, thinking of ways to make him feel better.

Why can't he see I'm happy with anything as long as it's the two of us together? We could get cheap ramen cups and heat them in the microwave at one of the houses and I'd be happy because we're eating together. I wish he could see that. I wish he'd believe me when I tell him that.

It's not long until the hill leading down to the Sakanoshita Market comes into view. Instinctually, Asahi shakes my hold off his arm before slithering it around my back, clinging to my hip so I don't stumble on the decline and fall.

My hand slides across his back too, crawling across the material of his white practice shirt. My fingers ball up some of the material, holding onto it instead of the stretch waistband of his shorts. "You deserve better than Sakanoshita," Asahi repeats, his grip tightening before it evens out again.

     "Sakanoshita is perfect, just like you're perfect," I mutter back, laying my head against him.

      "I'm glad you think so," he sighs, pulling away from me when we get to the bottom of the hill. Asahi is too deep in his self-doubt for me to drag him out of it. I decide to leave it be, wanting to fill our quick dinner with admiration before we're apart for the weekend. Sometimes showering him in love is enough to get his mind off its negative track; hopefully, this is one of those times.

     His body stiffens the closer we get to the store's door, but he still holds it open for me, letting me walk in first. "Thank you," I mutter, smiling at him as I walk past.

     "You deserve so much better," he whispers under his breath, but I still pick up on it. I leave it be, focusing on the way Asahi's hand settles on the small of my back, leading me around his coach's shop. Why can't he see that these little moments are all I need? I wish he could see himself through my eyes.

                      ————————————

     Click. Click. Click.

     The repeated sound pulls my droopy eyes open, making me fight off the sleep trying to envelop my body. 

     Click. Click. Click.

     The sound comes again, lulling my body into rolling over, feet to the freezing floorboards as I push myself into a stand. My hands jump to my face, rubbing my eyes as I make my way over to the window.

     Click. Click. Click.

     My eyes catch on the hand shifting in front of my window, a silver class ring wrapped around one of the fingers. I shake my head, a smile already forming on my face as I make my way to the window. As the hand goes to click against the window again, I slide it open. "Asahi?" I whisper, sticking my head out of the opening.

"Hey, Honey," his airy greeting is whispered back. Asahi has climbed up and is now clinging to the trellis built across the side of the house. His face is ghostly white, nerves and his fear of heights very evident on his face. "I would appreciate an offer to come in now, please."

"Climb on through," I softly giggle, backing away from the window.

He quickly takes my offer, finishing the climb up the trellis before struggling to squeeze through my window. By the time Asahi does manage to wiggle his way into my room, his cheeks are red instead of the sickly white they were before. "That climb never gets easier," he mutters, wiping his hands across his clothes.

"You know, if you would text me and ask to sneak in instead of just showing up you'd be able to use the door," I tease, eagerly moving forward to wrap my arms around his waist. Instantly - like always - my head rests against his chest, enjoying the warmth spilling off of my boyfriend despite the chilly night and the fact that he just spent the past ten minutes outside.

"I did text you," Asahi peeps out, his strong arms wrapping around me as well, one of his big hands rubbing across my back as the other rests against my waist. "You didn't answer so I figured you were asleep but I wanted to see you so I took my chances on knocking on your window and I probably shouldn't have done that but - "

"- but it worked out so everything is fine," I interpret, rubbing my nose against his chest.

     Asahi lets out a deep exhale, his body loosening with the sigh. Both his hands start rubbing across my back, warming it up as the big ball of worry lowers to rest his cheek on top of my head. "You're wearing my shirt," he mutters, balling up the material for a second before he goes back to softly massaging me.

     "I wear it to bed, you know that," I tease, tilting my head so my chin is resting against his chest instead of my face.

     "Well, I just..." his cheeks are quickly heating up, his deep brown eyes jumping between my face and the shirt hanging on my body. "I know you wear it when you spend the night. I just... I didn't think... you wore it any other time."

     "I wear it every night. Speaking of which, it doesn't smell like you anymore so I'll need another one," I babble, pulling out of our embrace. My hand falls to wrap around Asahi's wrist, tugging him along after me as I head back to my bed.

     "Okay," he murmurs lightly, a bit airy from the realization. He happily follows after me, standing next to the bed as I sit on the edge of it. Once I'm settled, I tug the shirt I'm wearing off, dropping it to the floor once I'm free from it. "Honey. Darling. Um... I... I'm not... feeling that... right now," he stumbles over his words, his blush darkening even more as he flickers between looking at me and the ceiling. "Not that I don't find you attractive or that I don't want you in that way. I just - "

     "I want your shirt," I mutter, leaning forward to tap a finger against his chest.

     "Oh," he breathes out, some of the heat on his face melting away as a soft smile replaces his nervousness. "I do think you're pretty, by the way," Asahi's ramble starts again, his hands falling to tug his shirt up. "And you are very... sexually attractive to me but... um... I just... I want to just lay with you. You know, since I don't... I don't get to do that tomorrow."

"Asahi," I coo, taking the shirt he's holding out to me. "I wanted your shirt and I want to lay with you too. I'm not going to feel less attractive because you're not horny. It's okay," I continue to coo, tugging his shirt on. Once I'm clothed, I crawl further into my bed, lying down when I'm comfortable again. "Come here," I mutter, patting the spot next to me.

     He almost shoots forward, quickly kicking his shoes off as he climbs into the bed with me. Instead of lying next to me, Asahi situates himself on top of me. His head is on my stomach, an arm tucked under my left thigh, and resting my knee on his shoulder, with the rest of him lying on top of my other leg, and his free arm wrapped around my hips. Instantly he relaxes against me, taking a deep breath before slowly letting it out.

     I feel folded like a pretzel and I know I won't be able to sleep in a position like this. I don't mind though since it'll help Asahi rest, since it'll help his mind quiet down. My hands fall to his hair, carefully taking out the elastic band keeping the strands trapped in the bun he usually wears.

My fingers slide through the shaded brown color of his hair, carefully working out the knots it's made throughout the day. I start softly humming too, hoping to fill his mind before negative thoughts have the chance to.

"You deserve better," Asahi mutters against my stomach, tightening his arms around me. My knee pops from the movement, making his arms go limp and his lips press desperate apologetic kisses into my belly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," he rushes out between spilled kisses.

"You're fine," I coo, shifting my legs a bit to counter the uncomfortable cracking that just happened. "You didn't hurt me and I was more than happy with Sakanoshita."

     "I'm not just talking about Sakanoshita," Asahi whispers, his hand shifting down from my thigh to my knee, gently massaging it. "You deserve better than me, Hon."

     My hands tighten on his hair, forcing his head to lift and tip backward. "Baby," I call, my tone a bit harsher than usual. "I love you. I'm with you. I want you. That makes you perfect."

     His eyes slide across my face before tumbling off of it, looking anywhere else that he can. "You deserve someone who can believe that, Honey. Someone that can buy you the world. Someone that's not always freaking out," Asahi mumbles, blinking quickly to try and stop his forming tears from spilling. It doesn't work, a few tear drops falling from his eyes.

     Quickly, my hands fall from his hair, cupping his cheeks to brush away his tears. "Baby," I hum, leaning forward to replace my fingertips with my lips. "It's okay that you don't always believe it. You can't help your mental illness. I'll tell you you're perfect a hundred times if that's what it takes to make your anxiety believe it, even if it's only for a second. I don't need you to buy me the world, I just need you to be a part of my world. As long as you tell me about your freakouts, I don't mind them either, okay?"

     "Okay," he murmurs, shifting his eyes back to my face. Asahi's face is pink again, this time because of his tears and not because of embarrassment. My reassuring has made him cry more, giving me fresh tears to kiss away. "I'm sorry, Hon. I wish... I just... I'm sorry that I'm like this."

     My lips tumble over his nose, littering pecked kisses across his skin. "You're perfect, just the way you are. I love you, Asahi. Every part of you. Good and bad."

     "I love you too, but you deserve better. So much better," he babbles, dipping his head to follow after my lips. "I'm sorry. You deserve a better man than me."

     "You're perfect, baby. You're just having a bad mental day and that's okay. I'm not going anywhere."

     "I know," he sighs, some of the tension leaving his body again. "You're so... good to me. So patient, so calm, so understanding. I don't deserve you. You don't deserve me. You deserve a guy better than me."

     I shake my head, letting my nose rub against his cheek as I disagree. "You are who I want. Isn't that what you're always worried about? Not being able to give me what I want? Well, I want you, so give me you." A soft sound leaves Asahi's lips, the majority of the sound still stuck in his chest. "Can you do that for me?"

"Of course," he rushes out, voice a bit airy from shock and probably a tad of disbelief. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," I mutter, tipping his head up so I can brush my lips against his. Asahi melts into the kiss, lips chapped but needily pressed against mine. His arms tighten around me again, and luckily, nothing creeks or cracks this time around. "You need to sleep baby," I whisper when we pull apart, staying close enough that our lips still brush against one another. "Your anxiety spikes when you're tired, it'll help."

When I lean back, Asahi melts into me again, resting his full weight against me as his muscles relax. "I don't deserve you," he hiccups into my stomach, pressing his head into me to try and bury himself further.

"Maybe not, but I want you," I softly sigh, twirling his hair around my fingertips again, not letting myself relax as well. I know we haven't beaten his anxiety for the night, not yet. "There's nothing else I want. All I want is you."

I can feel the hiccup he has, his chest bouncing against my leg as fresh tears coat the shirt I stole off his back, but I leave it be. I let my beautifully strong yet fragile man work his way out of his anxiety and worry. The whole time I stay put, twirling his hair, rubbing his back, massaging his shoulders, and whispering about all my love and admiration for him.

"You deserve better," he finally whispers, head turning to the side and voice raspy from crying. There's a hint of exhaustion buried in his raspy tone, the heaviness of his eyelids cutting off my view of Asahi's eyes. "I don't deserve you," he adds, the words barely stumbling out because of how quickly his need for sleep is taking over.

"You deserve everything you want," I coo, sliding a few loose strands out of his face before my fingers focus on drying his cheeks. "I'm worried I'm the one that doesn't deserve you." I don't get an answer, Asahi's too far gone in the cloudiness of sleep, but I don't mind. Unlike him, voicing my worries helps to loosen them. "You deserve better than me, baby."

[13a07s]

Nail Appointment

(Kentaro Kyotani)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to 27kira_dax27]

Requested by: Myself :)

Word Count: 3,570

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

I know it's common that people think Mad Dog is a distance lover but I disagree. I think he'd be a clingy, 'always proving what's his' kind of lover

Choking

Biting

Hickeys

Kentaro having no PDA shame

Mentions of Social Anxiety

This is not a Oikawa hate account; love the man, he's just an ass in this fic, okay? :,(

———————————————————————

"Puppy?" I mutter, my focus on my nails. My polish chipped at some point today, leaving a gap in the honey-colored paint I got to match my boyfriend's eyes.

Instantly, Kentaro is behind me, his chest to my back and his hand around my throat. The rings decorating his ring and pointer fingers are pressed into the skin of my neck, gentle enough to indent the flesh but light enough not to leave a bruise. "Don't call me that," he grumbles, tone harsh but his head dipping down to be closer to my voice. "What do you want?"

"Kyotani!" My pup's teammate - Yahaba - yells with a stern look on his face. "You shouldn't grab at your partner like that. Would it kill you to act like a gentleman?" Kentaro ignored his teammate, a soft growl and a tightening of his hand around my throat as he rolls his eyes.

"My nails are chipped," I mutter, his attention instantly on my hands.

His free hand jumps up, gripping my fingers. Kentaro holds it up to his eyes, forcing my fingers to spread wide as he looks over my nails. "You're expensive. Stop being such a goddamn klutz," he groans, rubbing at the chipped nail.

That sends Yahaba into another lecture, chewing my boyfriend's ear off about lacking respect for me and talking down to me in 'such a degrading manner'.

Again, Kentaro ignores him, dropping my hand to tug his phone out of his pocket. His thumb rubs up and down my neck, his fingers routinely flexing against my skin as he taps away at his phone. "Shut up, Yahaba. Your voice is obnoxious," he finally grumbles, showing me the screen of his phone.

As I look over the screen, the two second-years bicker back and forth. Kentaro scheduled me a nail appointment for after school; four-thirty to be exact. It's Monday, which means it's an off day from practice, so he'll probably come with. Usually, he takes me to get my nails done on Fridays; his other off day of the week.

The fact that he just paid three days ago to get done is what he's mostly irritated about. Maybe I'll be able to convince him to let me pay for the redo. "Hey, Puppy?" Instantly, his attention is on me again, dropping the fight he's in the middle of. He lets out a grunt, squeezing my throat in acknowledgment. "I'll pay for my appointment."

Kentaro lets out a grunted laugh, all five fingertips rubbing against my throat now. "Over my dead body. I pay for your nails, end of discussion."

"Kyotani!" Yahaba yelps again, face reddening the longer the bickering goes on. "Stop being so rude to your partner. You're such an ass. You deserve better, you know that?" He asks, focusing on me as he rambles on about my boyfriend's 'lack' of softness.

"Ken-Chan is perfect." The nickname gets me a huff, a turned-up nose, and a tighter grip from Kentaro.

"Disgusting," he grumbles, his hand finally falling away from my neck. It lands on my shoulder, gripping me as his head lowers. "Have you eaten?" He husks out lowly, his grip tightening on me. I shake my head no, a low grumble filling my ear after I answer. "Did you eat breakfast?" Another head shake and disapproving growl. "Dumbass, no wonder your stomach has been upset all day."

I'm let go, my little bulldog storming away to find me some food as he grumbles about my lack of eating. Yahaba shoots after him, another lecture warming up as he trudges after my boyfriend.

I'm not left alone for long, not that I'm really alone. Kentaro's teammates are littered around the lunch table, a few of their partners mixed in as well. "Less Mad Dog-Chan!" His captain's voice rings out, pulling my attention away from my phone. The playboy is beaming in front of me, his favorite fangirl of the day wrapped around his arm. "Where's the Og Mad Dog at?"

"Probably sticking his foot up your ass," I mutter, sending the captain a strained smile. I don't have a problem with anyone that has an issue with my boyfriend. He comes off as mean, has a bad attitude, and can be quite intimidating, so I get why most people don't get along with him or have bad vibes around him. Despite that, I can't help that I don't click with Oikawa. He annoys me. His ego, his player vibes, his cockiness, his ego again; I just can't overlook how he acts.

"Oh La La, you little poodle. You got teeth too, don't you?"

"Ya, and she uses them on my neck every night," Kentaro growls from behind me, the suddenness breaking my defiance instantly. I can be a hard ass now and again, but he's a hard ass ninety percent of the time. "Jealous much?" He grumbles, his hand back around my throat, squeezing it enough to cut off a bit of my airway.

"Knock it off," Kentaro's ace and arch-rival butts in, smacking the captain upside his head. "You knock it off too," the older boy adds, shooting my pup a glare.

Kentaro grumbles, head bowing down again to nibble on my neck, his teeth sliding against the skin right above his fingers. "Dumb shitty-kawa. Sizing up my baby, calling you a damn poodle, dumb ass little," he cuts off his ramble with a soft growl, snipping at my skin a little harsher.

"Ken-Chan," I whisper, tugging my head away from his teeth.

He grumbles a sorry, his tongue quickly lapping at the sore spot before he jerks away from me; no more teeth and no more fingers pressed into my neck. "I got you a salad - don't start bitching," Kentaro cuts himself off, ending my pouting fit before I can start it. "I got you a chocolate bar and one of those stupid cold coffee things you drink."

The food is laid in front of me, my pissy boyfriend sitting sideways on the bench as he continues to simmer over his fights with Oikawa and Yahaba. Reluctantly, Kentaro rests his head on my shoulder, shooting glares toward his captain.

I pop the salad open, working on opening my utensils and mixing the contents and sauce of the salad. Every few bites, I hold a fork full toward him. Kentaro grumbles during everyone, insisting he 'doesn't need that rabbit food' but eats every bite I offer.

Slowly, his simmering ends, my pup loosening a bit as things settle down. When Kentaro is finally settled, his head shifts, chin on my shoulder so he can stare at my profile. His arms stretch out, one in front of me and the other one behind my back. His joints pop and crack as he stretches, the front arm resting across my hips as the back one toys with my skirt, fingertips balling up the material of my waistband so he can cling to me.

He uses the hold on my skirt to pull me closer, the leg closest to him being shifted onto his lap. Kentaro's mouth is attached to my neck again, a bit of teasing rising but quickly shot down by a glare. He sucks gently, his canines sliding against my skin now and again as he enjoys himself.

I swear my boyfriend has an oral fixation, the hickeys coating my thighs, chest, and stomach being proof of that. If Kentaro wasn't worried about ruining my perfect school record, I'm sure my neck would be littered in proof of his mouth too. "Talk," he orders, snipping at my neck again, careful not to nick me like he did before.

"I think I'm going to do teal for my - "

"No."

"- I suppose I can do the honey color again. Maybe I'll get yellow with black stripes on my ring fingers to match your hair," I ramble, doing what my boyfriend wants. Kentaro isn't much of a talker but he enjoys listening, so our conversations are usually me talking nonstop with him offering grunts or short answers in response.

He happily settles back to gently sucking and nibbling on my skin, one hand clinging to my skirt tighter as the other one starts toying with my waistband. Clingy, moody, pooch of mine.

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A long huff is pushed out of Kentaro's nose as he holds the salon door open for me. A salon isn't his place, my edgy boyfriend standing out like a sore thumb surrounded by so many women, the soft music, and the pastel pink vibe of the place.

Despite the space unofficially being a 'women only' place and relatively safe, he's still attached to me. His hand is loosely settled on my stomach, opening me up to be enveloped by the rest of him, head on a spiral, and his usual resting bitch face present.

"Welcome... in," the receptionist greets, starting cheery but the tone quickly falls when her eyes slide over to Kentaro.

Her eyes jump around my boyfriend, taking in the piercings littered across his eyebrow, his nose, and the dozen or so punched into his ears. She doesn't know - I sure do - about his tongue being pierced too. Outside of school and volleyball, Kentaro is always decked out in black and gold. Gold piercings, gold rings, and his gold chain necklace.

The jewelry paired with his eyeliner, his full black outfit of a hoodie and ripped jeans, his perfectly polished combat boots, and the dyed blonde hair give off an irking vibe. One that is making the receptionist nervous.

Instinctually my hand shifts backward, fingertips wrapping around the chains hanging out of his pocket, one keeping his wallet clipped to his pants and the others being his 'edgy' jean chains. His hand slides off my hip, wrapping up in the chains so his fingertips can rub against mine.

"We have a four-thirty nail appointment. It should be under Kyotani," he grumbles, jerking me closer to his body. Despite his hardness, Kentaro is pretty good at calming down my social anxiety.

"Um... the... the appointment is for... one person?"

"Ya," he grumbles, bitch face shifting into more of a 'you're dumb' expression.

"You should get your nails done with me," I murmur, yanking on the chains as I turn my head up to look at him.

"I'm not doing that pussy shit," he rumbles, flicking his eyes at me before settling on the receptionist.

"Please?" I try pushing, adding a hint of a whine to my tone. "We could get matching nails. You could do black with yellow strips. It would be cute."

"No."

"Pretty please?" I repeat, adding more of a whine to my voice. I drop the chains from my hold, my arms wrapping around his neck to tug him closer to me. A growly sigh rumbles in Kentaro's throat, a pissy look stamped on his face as one of his eyes twitches. "For me? Please?"

He jerks a bit, standing up straight but leaving my arms wrapped around his neck. "Could I change the appointment to a double manicure?" He mumbles, gently dragging me forward so we're closer to the desk.

"Sure," the receptionist peeps out, clicking at the computer for a few moments. "It'll be a few moments until we can take you back," she whispers, tone super soft as she motions towards the waiting chairs.

I'm jerked in the direction of the chairs, Kentaro dragging me toward the waiting area. He settles into a chair, full man spread going on as he tugs me backward. I'm left between his legs, sitting in his lap with the wallet and phone in his pockets being pressed into my ass. He has no shame, hands shoved under my shirt and rubbing just above the waistband of my pants.

It doesn't take long until his mouth is attached to my throat, sucking just below the start of my jaw. His fingers jab into one of the hickeys poking out above my waistband, small waves of numbing pain aching from the force. My nerves are on edge, glances and judgmental looks being aimed our way. All of which are shot back a glare from Kentaro.

"Mr and Ms Kyotani?" A voice calls after a few minutes, another long huffy sigh flowing from my boyfriend.

He stands up, pushing me out of his lap as his hands push on my stomach, stopping me from any possibility of falling over. "That's us," I chirp, waving at the masked lady as I try shoving down my anxiety and the soft buzz of being referred to by my boyfriend's last name.

The lady nods, motioning us forward. Kentaro leads me, his arms tightening on me when we pass a male nail tech. He shoots the uninterested man a glare too, as jealous as ever. "Damn jerk, can't keep his eyes to himself," he grumbles, nipping at my earlobe.

"Maybe he's just staring because you're trying to crawl into my skin," I coo, trying to loosen his hold on me. Kentaro gives in, letting his arms hang loose on me as we finish the walk.

"One here, one here," the lady orders, tapping the spot in front of her and then the spot in front of the nail tech next to hers. We settle into our chairs, my hands instantly jumping up to lie on the small table. Kentaro's eyes flicked toward me before he repeats the action. "What are we doing to your nails today?" The lady asks, settling into her chair before she snatches my hands, looking them over.

"I want them a sort of pale yellow, as close to his hair color as possible," I start explaining, nodding toward Kentaro. "Then two horizontal black lines on both my ring fingers. He wants black with the same ring design but in the yellow of my nails," I finish explaining, turning toward his nail tech to fill her in on his request. Both ladies nod, leaving us long enough to fetch the colors I asked for and whatever else they need.

"This is dumb. I'm going to get so much shit from the team," Kentaro bitches, slouching in his chair with his hands still pressed flat to the table.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to. It's fine, puppy," I hum, shrugging my shoulders. It would make me a bit sad if he bowed out now after agreeing to get his nails done with me, but I want Kentaro to be happy. Bickering and teasing from his teammates over his nails being painted won't make him happy.

"It's not fine," he barks, glancing around when heads shoot our way. "You asked me to do it so I'm going to do it," he grumbles, tone a lot softer this time. "And stop calling me that."

"Would you prefer asshole?" I tease, a smile crawling on my face.

"Don't call me that either," he pouts, slouching in his chair more with his arms crossed over his chest. "Puppy is fine," he grumbles, sparing me a glance as he keeps up his half pissy half pity party act. "I can't believe I'm doing this dumb shit."

"Then don't do it."

"I already told you I'm doing it," he barks again, his tone still a lot softer than before but as bitchy as ever. "I have a gross want to make you happy. If making you happy looks like dumb cheesy ass matchy girl nails then that's what I'll do."

"It will make me happy."

"Good," he grunts, some of the tension in his body loosening at the knowledge that his actions are bringing me joy. The tension isn't gone for long, the tightness of his shoulders reappearing when the nail techs make their way back to us. "This is so dumb," Kentaro mutters, straightening up and placing his hands on the counter again.

"Thank you," I murmur, sending him a soft smile. He sends me a grunt in response, a twitch of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

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I'm in a bad mood as soon as my baby's classroom door closes behind me. I hate school, I hate Tuesdays, I hate my teacher, I hate not being in my baby's class, I hate having to wait for break to see my baby again, and I hate that Yahaba and Shitty-kawa are waiting for me in the hallway.

"So, it seems our Mad Dog went to the groomers yesterday," the team's captain teases, his phone waving around in his hand. He has my baby's Snapchat pulled up; more specifically the annoying finger heart picture she had me take with her after our nails were done.

Maybe it's not that annoying. It was un-annoying enough that I saved it and set it as my new lock screen. Okay... maybe I didn't find it annoying at all. Maybe I didn't even find the nail appointment annoying. Maybe the nail appointment was so un-annoying that a tiny, teeny piece of me wants her to ask me to get matching nails next week too.

Oikawa on the other hand is the most annoying thing in the world. But, I don't see Iwaizumi anywhere so maybe the situation isn't all that bad. "So what if I did? Pissed off you don't have a girl to get your nails done with?"

"Oh, Mad Dog-Chan, your naiveness is adorable. I could ask any girl in the school to go get her nails done with me and she would," he gushes, a mix of condescending and fake sweetness lacing his words.

"Really?" I ask, a grin crawling on my face. I have him beat out on this one and I don't even have to get physical. My baby is going to be proud of me for handling my obnoxious captain 'maturely' instead of 'physically' this time.

"You know it, Kyo-Chan," he chirps, a mirrored grin on his face.

I let out a "hmph" stepping backward to push the door to the classroom I just left open. "Hey, baby?" I call, turning sideways so I can see her. My baby's head perks up, full attention on me instead of getting her supplies out for her first class of the day. "Do you want to go get your nails done with Oikawa?"

Her nose curls up instantly, eyebrows pushed together in a 'are you fucking serious' sort of expression. "Ew, no, gross," her answer spills out, covering some of the mixed excitement and jealous chitter chatter of Oikawa's fangirls.

"I didn't think so," I mutter, stepping forward again and letting the door swing shut behind me. "I guess you won't get a yes from 'any girl in the school'," I taunt, sending the cocky setter another snug smirk before I start walking away. Yahaba quickly joins next to me, muffling his laughter.

"Your nail polish looks streaky. Maybe stop being a cheapskate and go to a better nail tech," Captain yells after us, a bit of huffiness in his tone.

"A cheapskate doesn't spend sixty dollars at a nail salon, dumbass, they just do it themselves," I yell over my shoulder, flipping him a perfectly black painted bird.

That makes Yahaba's laughter spill over, filling the hallway with the joy-filled sound. It wasn't that funny but I do have to admit, I like proving Shitty-kawa wrong. "I swear," he pushes out between chuckles, "the captain and you could fight over what color the sky is. You just don't know when to walk away from a fight, do you?"

"No, I don't, especially when he wants to be an ass about something I did with my baby. It made her happy, why the fuck does he have a stick up his ass about it?" I grumble, shoving my hands into my pockets. Once I noticed what I did, I tug them back out, not wanting to hide the matchy girly shit I did for my Baby.

"Maybe he just likes getting a reaction out for you. Have you ever thought of that?" Yahaba asks, his laughter done but a smile still on his face.

I shrug my shoulders, Oikawa's teasing still rattling around my head. I have thought about it, I know he only does and says shit to get under my skin, and I know I fall for it every time, but it's his fault. He pushes every button possible until I snap. Pressing a button about my Baby instantly makes me snap, so that's on Shitty-kawa, not me.

"He just needs to leave shit alone. So, what? I went to a nail appointment with my baby. It doesn't affect his life any, so he should just leave it alone." Yahaba shrugs, his smile growing on his face. I don't know why he's so giddy about my Baby and me. It was one dumb nail appointment, who gives a shit?

Me. I give a shit, because she spent the whole afternoon smiling, because her eyes were glued to our hands anytime they were wrapped together, because it made her happy, and that's what I live for. To see her smile, to make her happy, to her hear scream my name after a successful spike. It's almost gross, but I can't help the calm feeling that washes over me when I remember how damn smiley she was when she first saw our matching nails. Next week I'll have to remember to schedule a two-person nail appointment.