#haikyu!! reader insert

[ravenslvt]

fucking your ex boyfriend in the bathroom of a party.

☆ multiple x f!reader ☆

cw: smut, mirror sex, public sex, rough sex, hate sex (sort of), tension, alcohol, oral f! receiving, v fingering, spanking, pet names, praise, sex with feelings, unprotected sex

you don’t know how your bestfriend managed to rope you into coming to this party, all you did know is you wanted to get plastered while she found someone to hook up with.

you held onto her for dear life as you made your way through groups of people. mostly strangers, but you saw some familiar faces. you started to feel a bit nervous when you noticed some eyes roaming your outfit. maybe you should’ve worn a longer skirt…

your bestfriend’s eyes immediately spotted a pretty girl across the room, she gives you an apologetic smile. you roll your eyes.

“just go” you sigh. at least someone would be getting some action tonight. you make your way to the kitchen where there were bottles apon bottles layed out on the counter. you grab one of the disposable cups, pouring yourself a mixed drink before downing it. the liquor bringing a comforting burn down your throat.

suddenly, you felt a cold chill in the room. you look around, there were no windows or doors open. until finally, your eyes immediately draw to a pair of familiar ones. oh great, he’s walking over. you turn around, pretending you didn’t notice him, hoping he’ll walk past you.

“oh, c’mon. acting like you didn’t see me?” he leans against the counter next to you, a drink in his own hand. fuck, he still wore the same cologne. the smell almost made you dizzy. he was wearing an unfamiliar jacket, it looked new.

his name rolls off your tounge in a harsh greeting, taking another swig of your drink. he gives a lopsided smile. “still mad at me, pretty?” he takes your empty cup, refilling it for you the way he knew you always liked it. you give him a glare. he puts his arms up in defense. his body looked bigger, more defined. he was clearly working out more since you two broke up.

you snatched your cup back. if you were going to be forced into this conversation, you might as well be drunk.

“why are you here?” you ask, your eyes never leaving his own. he was drawing you in without even trying.

“i was invited. why are you here?” he pokes your shoulder with his pointer finger.

you just point to your best friend across the room, who was now making out with the cute girl from earlier. he huffs out a small chuckle. “that girl never rests, does she.” he comments. you just shake your head, “no she does not.” you sigh, another swig.

his eyes go back to you. more specifically, your outfit. you had a new top on, he’d never seen it before. he’d have remembered seeing such a pretty shirt on you before. and of course, you wore your favorite mini skirt. the one he always loved you wearing.

“this is cute, wear this for me hmm?” he smirks, his fingers playing with the bottom hem of the skirt. you swat his hand. he was the one who bought it for you. almost fucking you in the dressing room when you tried it on after doing a little spin for him.

“no… i just had nothing else to wear.” your face flushes. you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from the fact you were both thinking about the times you’d sit on his lap in this skirt, panties off while you bounced on his cock.

god, he loved that skirt.

you could feel yourself clench around nothing just thinking about it. he gets a little closer when he notices your flushed state, his fingers drumming against the table filled with alcohol. his damned fingers that knew every part of your body.

ok, you were definitely a little drunk, or maybe you were just stupid.

your back slams against the door of the bathroom, the blasting music muffled from the small enclosed room.

your lips met in a hungry, bruising kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. his large hands gripped your waist, your head forced against the wood. he moves one of his hands to shove between your thighs under your skirt, his fingers digging into your panties, making you whine into his mouth when he pinches your clit.

“fuck, this wet already? missed me that much, sweetheart?” he mumbles into your mouth, pulling away to pull the flimsy fabric down your legs with his free hand. of course you wore your favorite panties, the ones he bought especially for you. the sight made him groan.

“i’m not your-“

“i wasn’t talking to you.” he stares directly at your slick pussy. great, now he was talking straight to your cunt.

you look at him with glossy eyes as he kneels down, kissing down your thighs. you hook your fingers into the waistband of your skirt, but he gives your thigh a slap. “keep it on. i wanna see you get fucked in this pretty little skirt again.” he practically growls as he gives your thighs a few more kisses and bites, marking you up.

“want everyone to see you still belong to me.” he sucks marks into your upper thighs, placing a few where your little skirt couldn’t cover.

you mewl his name when his tounge delves into your sopping pussy, his fingers pulling your folds apart to get more access. your hands grip his hair for some stability as he laps you, his tounge switching from flicking your sensitive clit to prodding at your tight hole.

he replaces his mouth with his fingers, pumping two into your cunt as he suctions his lips onto your bud, making you bite your lip to prevent yourself from screaming out, almost drawing blood.

“fuckk!” his long fingers hit deep inside of you, his digits shifting between thrusts and curling inside. your legs shook, hands gripping his hair for dear life. giving him a particularly hard tug, he groans into your cunt, the vibrations making you let out a moan.

the mixture of stimulations had you on the edge, he knew you were about to cum.

time almost seems to slow as he feels you clench around his fingers, your eyes flutter shut, gripping his hair for dear life as pools of fire seep low in your abdomen. his fingers continue to pump into you as you cum, wetness dripping down his chin and wrist.

it was probably obvious you hadn’t fucked anyone since you two broke up the way your pussy responded so well to him.

still, he doesn’t pull away, addicted to the taste of you. he was completely lost in your cunt until you pushed at his head, whining his name. he reluctantly pulls away, giving your cute clit a few more kisses before parting.

you both pant, his face glistening in your slick. you almost moan at the sight.

“you taste even better than i remember, baby.” his hands sooth down your thighs.

“don’t call me that.” you heavily breathe. he just chuckles, standing up. his firm hands grab your ass, giving it a firm smack, making you yelp.

“face the mirror. wanna watch you take my dick.” he pats your hip, encouraging you. you obligated, finally seeing yourself in the mirror. your lip gloss was completely smeared, making you pout a little. until your ex boyfriend comes up behind you, his hard on pressing against your ass. his hand wrapped around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder as your eyes meet in the reflection.

his other hand reaches to wipe the smeared lip gloss, cleaning it up for you. his fingers tap your lips impatiently, seeking enterence. your eyes never broke contact. you open your pretty little mouth, his two fingers sliding in. you groaned as you tasted yourself on them. he grinded himself against your rear, hiking your skirt above your hips.

“gonna let me fuck this messy pussy?” his fingers enter deeper into your mouth, almost making you choke. you nod, swirling your tounge around his digets.

“mhmph” you mumble around them.

“gotta tell me how much you missed me first.” he teases, removing his fingers to slowly undo the button of his pants. you roll your eyes.

“just fuck me-“

smack

your ass stings, you were sure there was gonna be a red mark the size of his hand. you whimper.

“what was that, pretty? use your words.” he purred into your ear, biting your earlobe gently, nibbling marks down your sensitive neck.

“fuck, i missed you so much, i need your cock so bad-“ you whine his name. “-i touch myself thinking about it- but nothing is as good as you.” you shamelessly confess, a smirk growing on his smug fucking face.

“good fucking girl.” he growls, taking his raging cock out from his briefs, his hand pressing down on your back so you bend over the sink to give him easier access.

you mewled as his leaking tip pokes through your enterence.

he slowly sheathes himself in, savoring the feeling of your hot walls contracting needfully around his cock. “god, it’s been so fucking long. it’s like she’s sucking me in.”

your fingers gripped the counter in front of you, your eyes focusing on his own. the way his face scrunched once he was burried balls deep inside of you. his deep breaths, the way his hair slightly stuck to his forehead from how much he was sweating.

you’re about to speak, but your words turn into moans of his name as he thrusts in and out of you, his hips slapping against your ass. your head rolls down to rest against your arms on the counter, but he doesn’t allow that.

his hand that isn’t wrapped around your waist goes to grip your throat, pulling you back against his chest.

“watch yourself get fucked by your future husband.” he grunts, his thighs burning from all the rutting, but he’d feel that pain forever if it meant he could be able to fuck you like this again.

you watch as your tits bounce through your shirt in the mirror, drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. the mirror was big enough that you could see his dick pumping into you. obscenely wet sounds coming from where you two meet.

“o-oh fuck, feels s’good, don’t stop!” you moan out, staring at him in the reflection. he was so focused on the way you felt around him, he had almost forgotten you two broke up.

“oh god, baby. i fuckin' love you, need your pussy every day, can’t live without it.” he bites your shoulder, hard, making you groan. his hand moving from your throat to grope your tits through your top. his hips only slapped into you harder and harder, your vision going blurry when the head of his cock hits your soft spot. you let out chants of his name, your arms reaching back to grip his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

you stared at yourself in the mirror. the way he slid in and out of you with ease made you squeeze around him, prompting a groan from him. your hair was out of place from his rough treatment, marks down your neck and thighs. you couldn’t even think about having to explain this to your friends later.

“squeezing me so good. so perfect for me. gonna let me fill you up, hmm? walk around with my cum dripping out of you, let everyone know you’re fucking mine.” he thrusts with a bruising pace, your whole body rocking with the rolls of his hips.

“p-please yes! need it so bad!” your mind starts to blank, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pulsing inside of you, threatening to spill at any minute.

“touch yourself, baby.” he pants, his thrusts getting sloppier. he was so close, but there was no way he was going to cum before you. you nod, bringing a shaky hand to your ruined pussy, rubbing and pinching your clit the way you liked it. your mouth fell open at the overwhelming pleasure taking over.

“m’gonna cumm!” you whine until the only thing you can say is his name, over and over. just how he always loved it. he whispers dirty praises into your ear, talking you off the ledge. you force your eyes to stay on his own in the mirror. you hated how fucking hot he was.

waves of intense heated pleasure start to roll over you, moaning as your vision gets blurry with tears of ecstasy. “s’good!” you scream, tightening around him, making it hard for him to move. he curses as you grip his cock so tightly, milking him so hard he cums inside of you.

you pant as his thrusts get lazy and eventually slow to a halt. he didn’t want to pull out, but he knew he couldn’t just stay in here with you forever, no matter how much he wanted to.

he pulls out hesitantly, the mixture of your release dripping out of you making him let out a harsh breath.

you finally come down from your orgasm, completely fucked out. oh how much you missed his cock. and him too you guess.

he turns you around, giving your cheeks kisses before enveloping his mouth with your own. your tounges gently roll over eachothers, contrasting in comparison to how he was just fucking your brains out.

your phone lights up on the counter with a text from your bestfriend. you squint, reading the message.

‘bitch i’m leaving. don’t think i didn’t see you guys btw -_-‘

he wraps his arms around your middle, seeing the message.

“gonna come home with me?” he leaves even more love bites down your neck, making you sigh.

“…yea”

GETO, gojo, SUNA, atsumu, leon kennedy, toji, kuroo, dick grayson (sorry not sorry), your fav ;)

masterlist

[shoyostar]

𝓓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝓕𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝓗𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!

oh future husband, better love me right!

premise. the nhk gives it’s viewers a peak into the love lives of the jnt’s lineup, interviewing the future wives of the jnt to crack the secret to a happy relationship ❤︎

content. haikyu!! jnt / f!reader. (atsumu miya, rintarou suna, wakatoshi ushijima & shoyo hinata). fluff. somewhat decent relationship advice. downbad fiancés. healthy relationships(!!). suggestive moments. petnames.

soundtrack. dear future husband : meghan trainor.

part two can be read here.

dear future husband m.list. // hq. masterlist.

ATSUMU MIYA.

“after every fight, just apologize.”

“Relationship advice?” You repeat, sitting across from the NHK interviewer, mic strapped to your shirt as a camera filmed your living room. She nods, smiling while holding a microphone of her own.

“Yes! Tell us, what is the secret to a healthy relationship?”

You tilt your head, “Well, I guess I have some advice to give.” Your fingers drum against the armrest of your couch as you sit in thought, contemplating on what to tell the reporter, “hmm..”

Atsumu sitting beside you laughs, his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder, “I have some advice I’d like to give as well.”

You turn to him with a grimace. “I don’t want any young viewers following whatever is about to come out of your mouth, ‘Tsumu.”

He looks at you offended; reeling his arm back to his side, shock spelled out all over his face. “Excuse me, I’m great at romance. I romanced you, didn’t I?”

“Unfortunately,” you jest, with Atsumu exclaiming in protest, “But this isn’t just about romancing someone, ‘Tsumu. They’re asking what makes a relationship a healthy one.”

“So?” He shrugs, “A healthy relationship is one that’s full of romance.”

“I apologize for him,” you playfully tell the interviewer, ignoring the look Atsumu gives you in response, “He’s not the best at this sorta stuff.”

She merely giggles, “No worries, the players are allowed to give their own opinions as well.” Atsumu puffs his chest out, “See, babe? She said I can talk too.”

“Yeah well, just make sure to cut out whatever he says in the final broadcast,” She lets out a snort at your jab, hiding the smile that creeps onto her face behind her microphone while Atsumu shoves your shoulder in despair.

“Awe, c’mon! I’m not that bad with relationship advice!” He pouts at you, looking like a kicked puppy when he does so, “What makes you think I’m so bad at this, do you actually want to marry me, babe?”

Your eyes soften at his saddened tone, feeling slightly guilty you link your fingers with his, eyes full of love when he smiles down at your intertwined hands.

“Of course I do, ‘Tsumu.”

The camera crew awes as you turn back to face the cameras, still holding Atsumu’s hand firmly in your own, running your thumb over the smooth cut diamond ring studded band he wears on his ring finger.

“The advice I have to give viewers is; Apologize when you are wrong,” you tell the interviewer, “No matter your pride, no amount will replace your relationship. It’s never worth sacrificing your loved one just for the sake of winning an argument.”

“Uh huh, you’re one to talk about that, babe,” Atsumu rolls his neck, “You never apologize first, it’s always me who has to for you to talk to me again.”

“What are you talking about?” You look at him confused, “I’m the one who initiates the apology conversations, you’re the stubborn one out of us.”

“Nuh-uh.”

You groan, “Exactly.”

Atsumu pulls his hand out of yours, placing it on your thigh instead before facing the cameras. “But, she is right. Do not ever choose a winning an argument over your partner. It ends badly.”

“You would know,” you snort, “You give me the longest silent treatments until I coax you out of it with kisses.”

“Can we cut that out of the broadcast, please?”

You purse your lips to hide the oncoming smile until Atsumu leans forward, a handsome grin on his face as he looks directly into the rolling cameras with a newfound confidence.

“But, y’know. I do always apologize in the end, ‘cause my girl’s never wrong.”

RINTAROU SUNA.

“make time for her.”

“You see this girl?” Suna jabs a thumb in your direction from across the kitchen, leaning against the marble island lazily as the camera team nods. “Yeah, she gets constipated if I don’t give her enough attention.”

Your head perks up immediately as you shoot him a halfhearted glare, “Do not.”

“See, she’s doing it right now.” He ignores, drinking from his glass of water before setting it down on the counter, ignoring the little gasp you let out at his actions.

Rolling your eyes, you smack his arm before sliding a coaster under his drink, “Don’t scratch the marble, Rinnie. I just bought this island.”

The camera team silently giggles at the short interactions between you two, with Suna sticking his tongue out at you and in response you give him a middle finger before he turns back to face them, “Can you believe her?”

Scoffing, you enter the camera frame beside him, “Don’t bring them into this, Rinnie.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m your fiancée.”

Suna opens his mouth to argue before shutting it promptly, “Good point.”

One of the crew members holds a sign from behind the cameras, indicating to get the interview back on topic. “Why would you ever ask her for relationship advice?” Suna chuckles, “I was the one who made the first move.”

“The interview is for the fiancée’s of the JNT, Mr. Suna,” the interviewer reminds him, “But the players are welcome to voice their own opinions as well.”

Suna stretches his arm behind his back with a yawn, a sliver of his abdomen peeking out from underneath his home shirt before disappearing quickly, “Well in that case, allow me to voice this opinion—”

You slap a hand over his mouth before he can begin, “Nope, didn’t you hear them? This is my interview, Rinnie.”

“Buhf dey shaid I can shpeak too, affhole." Suna glares from behind your hand, removing it from his mouth with a groan. “Did you even wash your hand? Tastes gross.”

“Why did you lick my hand?”

“We’ve done freakier things than that and that’s what you’re worried about?”

Your words get lodged in your throat, sputtering out hurriedly, “This is going on T.V, Rinnie!”

He looks to you with a smug smile, “Yeah, and I can’t wait to rewatch this interview and see your reaction again later.”

Your fists clench momentarily before taking a deep breath, relaxing yourself and facing the cameras with a smile. “Anyways, some relationship advice I’d give to anyone watching; make time for your spouse.”

Suna nods along to your words, “Mhm, I think that’s the most important thing in a relationship.”

“Shut up, Rinnie.”

“Ouch,” he fakes a stab through his heart, monotonous eyes but a playful grin on his lips. “I talk for two seconds and you tell your dear fiancé to shut up?”

You shake your head towards him jokingly, continuing to talk to the interviewer, “A healthy relationship means you spend time with your loved ones, and your spouse should be the most loved person in your life.”

The reporter nods, “I see, I see, what do you suggest to our viewers the best ways to spend quality time with their lover?”

“In bed.” Suna chimes in immediately, earning another smack on the shoulder from you. “What?” He looks at you with a knowing grin, “Oh, you— I didn’t mean like that, oh my god you’re sooo dirty minded.”

He chuckles, “I meant like cuddling, laying in bed together, watching movies. Y’know, wholesome things.”

“Nothing is wholesome with you,” you exasperate, speaking from personal experience. “But yes, those are great ways to spend times with your lover. They’re good times to bond with them, or just relax and unwind after a long day.”

“Yeah, after a gruelling day of practice, it’s nice to come home and lay in her arms,” Suna motions to you before leaning his head on your shoulder, his grin now replaced with a small but gentle smile. “She’s all I want to see after practice.”

“Wow,” you tease, leaning your head atop his, “and where did you learn to be so smooth, hm? Are you just playing it up for the cameras, Rinnie?”

Suna snickers, hands crossed over his chest relaxed, “I would never,” he says before mumbling close to your ear.

“I just, really like to spend time with you.”

WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA.

“treat her like a lady.”

“My fiancé is out right now at the gym,” you inform the NHK station crew, their camera men follow you inside your house for the opening shots of the broadcast. “Make yourselves comfortable while you wait.”

The interviewer settles himself on a seat at your dining table as you reach for the vase of flowers atop, moving into the kitchen to pour the old water out of their vase, careful to not spill any over your kitchen counter as you refill the container with fresh water from your tap.

Refreshing the water, you carefully place the flowers back into their vase before rearranging them neatly, coming back out of the kitchen to place them back on your table and adjusting them accordingly as the interviewer watches amazed.

“Those flowers are very lovely,” he notes softly, almost as if any louder of a volume would disturb the plants, “Did you fiancé happen to get them for you?”

You smile, “yes, he did,” recalling the first time he got you a bouquet, on your first date many years ago.

“‘Toshi knows I love flowers.”

The soft click of the lock to your house causes you to perk your head up in familiarity, the frame of your fiancé’s figure coming into view as you see him placing his shoes down beside your door before coming inside.

“Welcome home, dear,” you call out to him from the kitchen, one of the camera crew’s members break off to film your fiancé as he enters the home. He drops his gym bag to the floor beside your couch, removing his jacket and hanging it on your coatrack before passing through the halls of your shared home to get to you.

Ushijima shuffles his way into the kitchen, passing by the camera crew and approaching you from behind, hugging you as his hands are wrap around your stomach, head dropping into the crook of your shoulder.

You lean into his touch, his freshly showered hair smells of the shampoo the two of you use.

“Are you showing them the flowers I got you?” He asks, eying the pretty arrangement of flowers on the table. The cameras zoom in to take a closer shot at the flowers, noting the vibrancy of the colours and the lack of thorns adorning the stems.

You and the reporter nod, Ushijima lets a small smile settle on his face. “She told me they were her favourites,” he tells the reporter.

“Hm,” he hums before turning to you, microphone extending outwards. “is that your relationship advice for the viewers then? Giving your loved one gifts?”

You shake your head quickly, “Oh, no! No, that’s not my advice— Of course, do get your partner gifts if you know they’ll enjoy them.” Ushijima straightens up, hands snaking around your waist to stand beside you as the cameras pan out to record the both of you in the same shot.

“‘Toshi just really likes to get me little things,” you smile, reminicing on all the times your eyes barely glazed over something in a store front before he was scrambling inside the shop to buy it for you, despite your pleas.

“But gifts do not have to be expensive,” You reassure the viewers again, “just little trinkets that remind you of your partner will be enough.”

Ushijima nods before lifting your hand up to the camera, showing off the engagement ring with a large diamond displayed proudly atop it. “Yes, but I do like to splurge when it comes to her.”

You retract your hand quickly, warily eying your fiancé, “‘Toshi! Don’t make the viewers think they need to buy people’s happiness with expensive gifts!”

His head tilts unsurely, “My love, do you not like the ring I got you?”

“I-I do! When did I ever say I didn’t?”

His eyes crinkle slightly in concern, “Then why are you hiding our engagement ring from the viewers?”

“Because,” you sigh, “I don’t want young, inexperienced lovers to think they need something like a huge, flashy engagement ring to be loved by someone.”

“But you deserve the best,” he rebuffs, “There is nothing I wouldn’t buy for you if you asked.”

“‘Toshi.. this isn’t really helping our case…”

The reporter turns to Ushijima, “Even though this is a special for the JNT fiancées, the players are allowed to give their own insight.” He informs your soon-to-be husband, “Do you have anything else to add for our viewers?”

Ushijima thinks for a moment, silent in thought as you look to your fiancé, and the sight of his matching engagement ring twinkling under the bright studio lights filling your home catches your eye all too quickly.

“Do you have anything you want to say, ‘Toshi?” You nudge his shoulder slightly when he continues to remain quiet, an encouraging smile on your lips.

He nods, bringing the hand with your ring on it before giving the intricately cut diamond a kiss, his piercing eyes gazing deep into yours, causing your face to heat up fervently at his wolfish grin.

“Treat your partner the best that you can, like the lady she is and deserves to be treated as.”

SHOYO HINATA.

“don’t forget your anniversaries!”

Shoyo’s leg bounces feverishly as the reporter speaks to you casually, unable to contain his excitement at being asked to join you for this broadcasted interview special.

His grin is wide, beaming whenever you sneak small glances at him whenever the reporter looks down at their cue cards of start up questions to ease into the conversation, before the real topic is brought up.

“Do you have any relationship advice for our viewers?”

You’re about to speak until Shoyo interrupts you, quite literally flying out of his seat while brightly smiling as his hand grasps yours with a tight grip, “I do, I do!”

The reporter chortles, smiling at his tactics, “Thank you, Mr. Hinata. But this interview is specifically for your fiancée.” Shoyo’s face sullens lightly until he speaks again, “But you’re allowed to give your own thoughts when she’s done.”

Shoyo slumps back into his seat dejectedly as you rub his back comfortingly, “Sorry, Sho. But just let me speak first, okay?” His pout is replaced instantaneously at your words with the usual smile he holds when around you, “Alright, baby!”

You look towards the reporter, hand still clasped in Shoyo’s securely. “Here is my advice for a healthy relationship; Don’t forget your anniversaries.”

Your fiancé’s mouth hangs open in shock at your words, head whipping to face you with a hearty laugh, “That’s what I was going to say!”

The look of shock that spreads across your face amuses him, staring at you expectantly for a few moments before you too erupt into laughter, shoulders shaking in surprise as the two of you cling to each other for support, with Shoyo nearly falling off the couch with how hard he cackles.

He clings onto your shoulder to stop himself from tumbling, which in turn causes you to laugh harder as you try to pull him back up as Shoyo calls out for you to ‘save him’.

“Baby, I’m falling!” Shoyo shrieks while howling with laughter, “Grab my hand!”

“You’re already grabbing my hand, Sho!”

Cameras stationed around your living room pan to zoom in on Shoyo’s joyful face when he fools around with you, the grip he still holds on your hand as clear as day as you jokingly attempt to rescue his bumbling self.

The out of frame reporter looks to the two of you happily, the fact that you both seem so absorbed in each other and have forgotten about the interview portion of the broadcast is surprisingly heartwarming for both the crew and the viewers watching the broadcast.

Once the two of you manage to calm down, you shyly look back to the NHK crew with a timid smile.

“Sorry,” you apologize to your interviewer, coughing as you try to hold back another bout of laughter when you catch Shoyo smiling at you again, attempting to contain his giggles. “We got a little- uhm, carried away.”

“It’s no problem,” the reporter chuckles, “I can see the two of you are very much in love, so is that the advice you wish to tell our viewers on how your relationship with each other is so healthy?”

You and Shoyo nod simultaneously, “Yeah, don’t you ever forget your partner’s anniversaries!!” Shoyo sternly but playfully warns the viewers, “I’m serious, guys! Anniversaries are important!”

“What anniversaries should our viewers be aware of when it comes to their lovers?”

This time you speak up, “Well, the major and most well known ones of course,” you begin, listing off the ones you can recall at the moment.

“For example; first month together, first year spent as a couple, birthdays could also count I suppose—”

“Did you know I proposed to her on our fifth anniversary?” Shoyo interrupts excitedly, the same happy and bright smile on his face shining when he proudly pulls up his hand to show off the ring on his finger, “I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot to put the ring on her finger after she accepted!”

Recalling that memory brings warmth to your cheeks, “Yeah, he literally forgot about the ring in the box until I asked him about it later.”

“But in any case,” you circle back to original topic at hand, noticing the way Shoyo’s smile dampens a little when you switch back so quickly as you shoot him an apologetic smile, you don’t want to waste the reporter’s and NHK crew’s time any longer.

“Don’t forget your anniversaries, people! They’re a big deal for a ton of lovers!”

“Th-that’s right!” Shoyo piggybacks off your response, “And if you do forget, you better apologize a lot!”

The reporter nods, turning their attention to your fiancé. “And do you have any final thoughts for our viewers on how you maintain a healthy relationship with your fiancée, Mr. Hinata?”

Shoyo smiles deviously at the open ended question he’s been dying to answer this whole time; his hand creeping teasingly up your thigh to the small of your back as he leans in real close to you with a knowing wink, the flushed expression displayed on your face at his actions encourages him even more to continue.

His eyes glint with amusement, the mischievous grin on his lips is firm even in front of several strangers and cameras rolling in real time, footage of his behaviour being broadcasted to the entirety of Japan this very second.

And without shame or guilt, Shoyo smirks.

“Make your anniversary nights real special for her, trust me on that one.”

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

© property of shoyostar 2023. all rights reserved.

[chaepink]

Hear me out, maliciously praising pathetic yandere Oikawa. Like he’s so pathetic obsessed with reader, and the sound of their praise is making him go crazy, and reader catches on to this and starts praising him just for a reaction, which ends in him cumming, on his knees for reader as they just smirk and teasingly praise his pathetic shaking form <33

dom!reader, sub!Oikawa praise, cumming in pants, teasing

“You’re such a good boy for me, right?” Another shiver racks through Oikawa as he whines, staring up at you from his place on the floor with glassy eyes.

You’re standing in front of him with a grin on your face that makes him swallow in anticipation.

“I never thought you would like my praise this much, Oikawa. You must really like being my good slut, don’t you?”

A soft whimper leaves him as he clenches his fists that lay on his thighs. He’s been sitting on his knees for a while and there’s a slight ache but the cloudy fog in his mind is preventing him from thinking of anything else other than you and your words.

“I bet you just want to touch me right now, don’t you? Make me feel good like a good boy is supposed to do?” Oikawa stares up at you with tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

You glance down from his face and see the bulge in his pants and smirk. Oikawa can’t even think properly anymore, he just wants to cum. He’s so hard, it hurts.

“You’re hard from just my words, baby? Gonna cum from my praise only?” A sob racks through his body and he nods eagerly, staring up at you as he ruts futilely in the air, searching for any kind of friction.

“Go ahead and be a good whore for me then and cum in your pants then, darling.” Oikawa lets out a choked moan and gasps at the sudden release. Quickly, you see a wet stain start to appear on his crotch and you giggle.

“How cute, you came in your pants without my touch.” Oikawa’s breaths are heavy as his body rocks with his recent orgasm.

After a few minutes, he looks up at you with trembling lips before glancing down at his stained pants with a flushed face and looking back up at you, expecting you to do something. You raise an eyebrow before suddenly placing your foot on his crotch and pushing it down, making him cry out in pleasure.

“What, you thought I was done, darling? Oh we’re far from that, don’t you want to be my good boy?” He nods eagerly.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[starshays]

tears

suna rintarou x fem!reader

in which : suna notices things about you, such when you're about to cry

warnings : small mention of blood

a/n : first work !!!

suna rintaro was completely and utterly enamored with you. you were just too damn pretty for your own good. he was used to watching you. not creepily just observing. watching your mannerisms. 

he noticed the way you flushed when someone gave you a compliment or the way you carry small hair ties on your wrist because your hair constantly falls in your face. he also knows that before you cry your nose twitches and your lips wobble as you press them together to make it less obvious. but the biggest telltale sign of tears is the way you pick at your cuticles until there’s a tiny bit of blood.

so when he sees all these happen when he’s alone with you, he thinks his world could end right then and there. 

you turn your face away from suna and begin furiously wiping your eyes. “i- i’m sorry rintaro, i- i don’t know why i’m crying and-“ you hiccuped while taking rubbing your face.

suna frowned and grabbed a hold of your hands. “calm down,” he whispered, his words as gentle as his actions as he thumbed your tears away. when you looked at him with glassy eyes and a small pout on your lips, he could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a good few seconds.

you were so beautiful.

“let me see that dazzling smile again,” he said breathlessly, pulling your cheeks up to twist your lips into a small grin. and when he let go that smile was still on your face.

“thank you rintaro,” you tucked your hair behind your ear smiling shyly at him. suna smiled back. “gimme a call anytime those tears come back.”

[takes1]

p.2 one night stand aftermath with needy!tsukishima

this boy is gonna get whinyyyy in the next one. sorry i haven't been posting like everyday anymore, i'm either hitting a wall or i'm exiting my manic creative fever

warnings. sfw-ish, conversation/narration about sex. minors DNI

info. fem!reader / smut build-up / flirting / one night stand aftermath / needy!tsukki / timeskip!tsukki / museum setting / miscommunication / 1.6k words / reply to be added to taglist for part 3!

haikyuu collection. part one here.

more links. masterlist. my ao3.

"Are you sure they're not in your bag?"

You did not want to bother somebody at their job because of your nephew's inconvenient tendency to leave his eyeglasses around.

The six-year-old stopped and you watched him search through his little Indiana Jones-themed bag. No glasses. Just the sandwich you packed for him, a coloring book, and pencils to go with it.

"Shit," You sighed under your breath. You had already been in the museum for an hour and a half.

They could've been anywhere. You rubbed the back of your neck and looked at the reclined worker behind the service desk in the lobby.

"We'll... we'll ask if they've seen any, alright?"

"Okay!"

You approached, hoping the man would break the ice first when he noticed you.

All he did was keep tapping away on his phone.

If anything, he shrank lower in his seat when you came up to the counter so you couldn't see him as easily.

"Hi, um- Excuse me, we just wanted to know if you've seen any glasses around- Or if anyone had come by to turn some in."

It was difficult enough to muster the courage to speak. But to make matters worse, the worker peeked out from around his shoe with the rudest 'Go away, I'm busy doing nothing' stare that he could muster.

Pressured frustration built in your chest and you readied yourself to speak louder, be more assertive so he could understand this wasn't a problem that would just go away.

It fizzled at a flash of short, fluffy blond hair.

Your fingers twitched from the memory of how soft it was against your shoulder, between your legs, against your palms.

His eyes widened with recognition. He took his legs back down, a lanky hand setting his headphones to rest around his neck.

You realized you had forgotten his name, so you couldn't express that you knew him so easily-- it left you speechless, grabbing at something to say.

Thankfully, it was a problem for later, because he confirmed that he heard you after all.

"You wear... glasses?" He asked.

His face worked, soaking in every new detail of your natural features he didn't get to see the last time you were together.

"No, I don't," Was all you could say.

You motioned to the child hiding behind your back, clinging to your shirt.

A nearly open-mouthed look.

"Oh!" You covered a small laugh at his unnaturally wide-eyed stare, "He's not mine!"

You held your hand to your heart, then placed it atop your nephew's head and ruffled his hair.

"Just babysitting my nephew. He wouldn't stop asking me to come here,"

The kid leaned all his weight to the side and squinted around, using you as an anchor to hold him up. He couldn't be bothered listening to you.

"He loves the museum."

He spared a glance to the little one rubbing his eyes behind you and, to his own surprise, found sympathy in his heart.

It was a quiet and incredibly uncomfortable search. You remembered his name along the way, thankfully.

It didn't help that it was nearly empty besides your small group making a sloth's pace throughout the vast, never-ending halls. Frequent stops at places you lingered at earlier to read plaques or marvel at figures put some occasional ease on the tension.

Tsukishima walked slow, with his hands in his pockets, and looked at anything but you.

Simply by his wordless agreement to help you, you could tell this job wasn't something he took very seriously. If he didn't already know you inside and out, he would've turned his music up to drown out your plea for help.

His calculated, but somehow yet disinterested gaze stood as strong evidence that he wasn't warm.

You held yourself to silence a shiver.

So, why did he look so heartbroken when you left his bedroom?

A quiet, toneless voice wrenched you out of your inquisitive thoughts.

"You do this often?"

You didn't understand how comfortable you actually were with the quiet until you had to come up with something to respond with. What was he referring to? The museum, or the sex?

"Um-?"

His face was so intense when you tried to look at him for more elaboration. Like you had stepped on the back of his shoe.

You quickly looked down.

"With the kid," He muttered.

"Oh, yeah," You blew a breath of relief, "Yeah yeah, I see him every couple weeks. We usually come here."

He hummed.

It was getting quiet all over again. You felt an obligation to try, now.

"Do...you like working here?" You winced. A dumb question you already knew the answer to.

His response wasn't as cruel as you expected. He even pretended to consider it.

"It pays for my tuition."

A generous nugget of information- your nephew began searching on his own accord around this old, interactive archeological sand table and you lingered next to Tsukishima for a minute.

"Tohoku University?"*

He nodded at your question as you both sifted through the sand in front of you.

"Me, too," You smiled, "Kinesiology major."

There was a small laugh on his lips. He smoothed the display back out when it was obvious there were no glasses here and you continued on your way.

"What, are you some snooty med student?" You scoffed at his perceived pretentiousness.

It wasn't rare to come across people who discriminated based on major when you interacted with so many aspiring nurses and surgeons. You liked the student athletes at your university better.

"No," He shook his head, "I- Just- yeah. It's nothing."

You believed him, but he left you confused and hanging on by a thread by his odd mannerisms and avoidant speech. It was difficult to make any lasting judgement about him.

Regardless, he stuck around and, though not enthusiastically, helped you search for the next twenty minutes.

There was the chance he could've been doing it all to repeat that night. If he gave you any indication that he was interested in a round two, you were prepared to take him up on the offer. But you had a feeling he would've already tried to flirt, or talk more, or just flat out tell you instead of dancing around, exhausting your politeness if it was the case.

Another room, another few minutes spent searching.

When nothing came up again, you got his attention with a frown, "You don't have to keep helping. I know this is pretty dull."

His face grew a bit warm. You both looked away.

"I'm not just gonna leave," He managed to work around your invitation to go away and reference your night together.

At first, you trailed behind him on the way into the next hall, but shook your reaction off and caught up to his side.

"So, why did you?"

He cut the niceties and put it all on the table, but you weren't at all expecting it to be laced in guilt, or shame, on his end.

Maybe if he had a sweeter resting face, or didn't kiss you so fast, or wasn't so handsy in the Uber back to his place, or didn't fuck you on the floor because he couldn't wait to get to his room, or didn't talk to you like he owned you, or didn't tell you to scream his name-- maybe if he just had an ounce of patience at the start, you would've foreseen his cuddly side and stayed a bit longer.

Honesty was probably best.

"I just," There was difficulty in your voice, "I just didn't peg you as the type to want more than-,"

His eyes were narrow and focused, fixated on your glossy lips as you spoke. It forced you to end your sentence short.

A minute passed and you were back to the skeleton displays.

As you watched him across the room, leaned under a bench to help search despite it being well over his paycheck, your heart squeezed.

He was a pretty boy- and kind where it counted, as far as you could tell. The most obvious trait of his was how much he liked you, even at the very start.

The way his face worked when he looked at you; intensity in the form of longing you'd never been the subject of before.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't make you feel pretty special to make a guy like that crumble.

"Found them." He called.

You groaned out a yes, excited you didn't have to pay an arm and a leg for a replacement. You jogged over to watch him wipe off the lenses on his shirt and hand them to your nephew.

"Glasses are expensive," Tsukishima placed his hands on his hips, unaware of how intimidating he was to a small child, "You should keep better track of those."

The kid apologized at a barely-there whisper and quickly clung to you again, embarrassed.

After all the searching, you were both tired and relieved to be able to go back home. Part of you weighed your legs down to this spot, though.

"I- suppose I owe you an apology, too," You admitted.

The double meaning was not lost on him. His chest swelled with a tentative, slow breath and he bit the inside of his cheek.

"You don't have to do that."

You were almost certain he was about to invite you back to his place. Just when you thought you had him, he slips away.

It was risky, but as you watched your nephew sprint over to a display he didn't see earlier, you decided it was more appropriate to try again.

"I'd love to make it up to you," You placed your hands on the back of your hips and tried to emulate the same look you passed to him in the club. Through your lashes, real casual, but unwavering eye contact.

His jaw worked at your not-so-subtle request to be invited back. It gave way to a hand rifling through his short, bouncy curls and red-tinged ears.

He looked over his shoulder to check you weren't being listened to.

A familiar sound was his low, interested mutter, "Are you free tonight?"

taglist.

holy shit tsukki gets so much love on here. thanks for supporting and tuning in! part three will be hornier

@little-stitious-studios @sunshinesx-264

@hrts4hanniehae @lord-hqcifer

@inofish @integers @ushijimaschubbs

@sharkubi @imiqz @yuyunhoo

reply to be added!

masterlist. requests closed.

*the uni mention: idk what the fuck i'm talking about lmao fan wiki failed me i tried to find out where he actually goes to college don't burn me at the stake

[mikichko]

ushijima has one of your engagement pictures framed and hung so it's visible as soon as anyone enters your home.

it's a bit out of character for him, honestly. incredibly ornate, immense, and dramatic.

and it's not that he doesn't partake in romantic gestures, you'll never deny that. but, his gestures are usually intimate and reserved for the two of you. his love for you and how he honors it is meant for you and you alone.

to ushijima though, this picture is a testament to your love. something that shouldn't only be framed but displayed for everyone to see. for those who step foot into your home to understand that this is one, if not the proudest achievement of his life. to understand the adoration and devotion that's housed within these walls.

it resembles an art piece, from the positioning down to the framing. at 147cm wide and 112cm tall, it takes up the majority of the wall opposite the entryway. it's frame is thick midnight wood, with waves carved by hand that glint with the gold and bronze finish. the sloping profile of the frame reminds him of the sea, it's tide, and the pull the moon has on the salty body. looking at the picture, it's easy to see you are his moon.

in the picture, the sunlight filters through gaps in the clouds, a glow surrounding your figure. highlighting your body's movements as you're captured mid-laugh. you're tucked into ushijima's right side, an arm wrapped around you securing you to him. head thrown back, silent laughter escaping your lips, with rays of light highlighting patches of your skin, ushijima is captured by you. in that moment, his torso turns towards you, eyes soft as he gazes at you with such affection you'd have missed it if not captured. in that frozen moment, with unabashed loving looks and gentle smiles, ushijima wakatoshi is captured at his happiest.

a/n: trying to get the code writing out of my head and get the real writing in there but as you can tell im still fighting that battle LOL

[topzsun]

TRUST THE CHANGE

── ♡ KENMA KOZUME

❝ life is variable. you are convinced kenma is your constant. ❞

You realise quickly that being Kenma’s friend means sitting at a weird dichotomy of knowing you are his friend, or not having a clue at all. This confusion isn’t helped by the fact that the teenage boy functions under disinterest and reservation, words sparing and any forms of expression even less so.

The first time you laid eyes on Kenma Kozume, it was the first day of the first year. A cliche beginning, for someone who is considered so unconventional. You had arrived late, late enough that unofficial seats had already been reserved and taken, and your only choice remains next to a hunched figure with long inky hair and a PlayStation Portable in hand. It wasn’t a wild assumption to make that she must be the introverted and distant type. You can work with this.

You sit your stationary down on the open seat, and your new seatmate only tilts her head long enough to catch a glimpse. Within that split second, you quickly register your mistake that your new seatmate was not a girl and that he had the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen. The moment ends much too fast for you to catch your bearings, as he’s already absorbed back into his video game. You aren’t sure if he’s making a deliberate effort to not look your way. Before you can open your mouth to at least introduce yourself for courtesy’s sake, the homeroom teacher has already walked in, the clicking of her heels against the tiled floor being the first warning that you should be in your seat. You plop down next to him, absentmindedly busying yourself with arranging your pencils and pens on your desk. You miss how he spares a secret, second glance at you through his dark tresses.

(i)

The first year goes by almost uneventfully. It didn’t take long for you to learn your seatmate’s name, not when he’s been reprimanded so many times for having a console on his person during class hours. He’s not the type to greet you good morning, and you’ve learnt not to bother either because Kenma seems to have little care for the traditional Japanese code of etiquette and you felt silly being formal around him as well. Despite his mentioned apathy, he still manages to acknowledge your presence with a stiff nod, which you return with a smile.

You think the first time things had begun to shift is when you arrive at class, much earlier than usual on a humid Tuesday. You almost drop to your seat, sickened from the weather, and your eyes distractingly follow the screen of Kenma’s console, the boy so absorbed into the game he doesn’t bother even glancing up to see who is beside him. When you recognise the familiar graphics, you don’t think twice when Monster Hunter escapes your lips. That seems to be the trigger to catching his attention, as he quickly pauses to look at you. He still seems to avoid eye contact, but at least his head is turned in your direction.

“Do you play games?” He asks, and when you give your affirmative answer, he only lets out a muted him. With the lull of silence, his attention is drawn back to his portable console. However, he shifts an inch closer, as if inviting you to watch him play. There is a flutter in your stomach the rest of the morning you watch over his shoulder because you think you’ve successfully become acquainted with your aloof seatmate.

(ii)

You’ve never seen Kenma outside of classroom hours, and you blame it on your vastly different schedules. You ignore your friends’ teasing when your eyes scan the hallways during lunch, as they are convinced you harbour a crush on the raven-haired student. That’s not it, you’ve tried to explain, he’s the only person you know who likes the same games as you. This did little to dissuade your overzealous friends, so you leave them with their wild imaginations. They were right, however, when they say that your mood visibly deflates when you can’t catch hide nor hair of Kenma. You blame your disappointment on your curiosity, you are just nosy to know what he does in his spare time that doesn’t involve a screen.

It’s during the evening when your first wish comes true. You had opted to stay back to study for an upcoming test, and the hours blended together till you were leaving the library at the same time club activities were being dismissed. Your walk back home is unusually exhausting and strenuous today, and you fault it in the hours you’ve sat cramming for knowledge. As you pass by the local river, your daydreams of relaxation are cut short when you spy a figure sitting crouched on the cobbled staircase leading to the bourn. This alone isn’t what gave you pause, but the sight of familiar locks of dark hair and Nekoma’s red tracksuit. His name appears instantaneously in your mind. Before you can second-guess yourself, you have already strolled over to your classmate, eager to see what game he will be conquering today. It comes as a surprise when you find him empty-handed, his arms instead wrapped around his legs pressed against his chest. He is instead watching the peaceful flow of the water, uninterrupted by the slow breeze or the dawning clouds. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so contemplative.

Common sense would alert you that maybe this isn’t the moment where he wants to be bothered, but your body moves to the command of your heart rather than your brain, and you’re already standing two steps behind him. The sound of your footsteps draws his attention, and he glances over his shoulder curiously. For a brief moment, you think shock crosses his expression, but before you can be sure he has already returned to a neutral expression. He doesn’t say anything, and you realise he is waiting for you to speak first.

“Are you okay?” sounds reasonable. A show of appropriate concern.

“Do you want to talk?” an invitation for him to air out what is on his mind. Considerate and inviting.

“Can I sit here?” You ask with a baited breath and he blinks at you, sharp eyes scanning your figure almost curiously.

“Okay,” He answers and shifts aside enough for you to take a seat. You drop your bag and stretch your feat over the steps, silent, and Kenma doesn’t attempt to fill in the space with conversation either. The river looks nice painted in gold.

(iii)

The second year begins in spring, and some things remain constant, like how you are still seatmates with Kenma and that you still have the same pencil case as you did in your first year. However, as destined, the new year also brings about changes, like how Kenma has decidedly gone blonde and that you’ve learnt of a senior named Tetsuro Kuroo. Meeting Kuroo felt inevitable now, not with how much more time you spend with his childhood friend, but you can’t find yourself interacting with him like you did Kenma. Kuroo isn’t a bad person at all, and it wasn’t his fault you didn’t know how to talk to him, but that doesn’t stop the third year from trying to relate to you in other ways, mainly revolving around Kenma Kozume.

“You still haven’t seen him play, have you?” The spiky-haired student asks you during a slow Friday afternoon, the both of you loitering in the hallways as you wait for Kenma to return with his neglected gym bag. You answer the senior with a shake of your head, to which he only raises a brow in question. Maybe your hesitance to watch Kenma play volleyball could be chalked down to a silly reason, but in your mind, you have rationalised it as a boundary. Kenma has talked about games with you and has even slipped trivial complaints when you ask him about his day. In comparison, volleyball was kept behind a locked key, and you aren’t sure of the significance of the sport in his life. If it’s his secret haven, reserved for his close friends, could you really go over and brute force yourself into the scene?

You were too scared to know whether Kenma considered you a friend or not.

At your silence, Kuroo goes to poke at you further but the languid arrival of Kenma dissuades further conversation. You are about to bid your standard farewell to the pair and head home for the day until you are frozen in place by a sly glimmer in Kuroo’s hazel irises. Before you can shoot him a warning, he has already dismissed you by casually turning to Kenma.

“Hey, why don’t they watch our practice match today?” He suggests innocently. You falter. Kenma blinks at the taller boy, clearly conveying ‘Why are you even asking me?’ with a quirked brow and an unamused frown. For a second, his eyes flicker to your struck expression, and it seems some sort of understanding dawns over him as he simply shrugs.

“Sure,” Is all he says, and he reluctantly heaves his duffel bag over his shoulder, making the familiar trek to the gym without looking back at you and Kuroo, as if he’s already gotten bored of the two of you. Kuroo only smiles smugly when you stare at him accusingly.

“You’ll see how cool he is when you watch him play,” He states confidently, making sure Kenma is out of earshot. There is affectionate pride lacing his tone and your mild irritation deflates upon his obvious care for his close friend.

“I think he’s cool already,” You respond absentmindedly, and it doesn’t dawn on you the implication of your bold words until you see Kuroo’s smile only widened. Things are changing.

(iv)

You’re surprised it took you this long to meet Shohei Fukunaga and Taketora Yamamoto, thankfully the two weren’t hard to befriend. Fukunaga kept a similar quiet disposition to Kenma, but where Kenma was evasive, Fukunaga merely bided his time before he made his presence known in the form of a timely joke. On the opposite side of the spectrum sat Yamamoto, who always speaks as if he’s making a purposeful effort to strain his throat. Loud, proud and hot-blooded. The four of you formed an odd sort of group when school time is over and all that remains is volleyball or leisure. You have also begun spending your evenings in the school gymnasium rather than running straight for home, seated on a bench as you watch volleyball practices till the sun threatens to set. Kenma had only asked you once why you stopped by all the time to watch them play, but when you aren’t able to answer him he drops the subject and never questions it again. You wonder if he picked up on your hurt expression.

On a lifted note, you think you’ve officially cemented yourself a permanent place in Kenma’s routine, so it really shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise when he invites you over to his house to pick up a game title you had been wanting to play, and that he conveniently owned. Yet, once you are standing in front of the Kozume family residence, you are still smoothing down the invisible wrinkles in your clothes and double-checking the state of your hair in the reflection of your phone screen. If your friends were here, they’d laugh at you acting like you are going on your first date rather than just picking up a game disk. At the second ring of the doorbell, the door creaks open to reveal Kenma. His usual uniform is traded in for a baggy white hoodie and comfortable track pants, coupled with fluffy house slippers and expensive-looking headphones sitting snugly around his neck. It should feel embarrassing how you think he looks nice, even in an attire so casual.

“Uh, come in,” He moves aside allowing you entry into the quiet abode. You trail after him as he navigates to his room, and in your teenage mind, it feels scandalous to be here without his parents being home. However, your concerns begin to take a backseat when your attention is drawn in by Kenma’s shelves on shelves of video game covers, and you realise you severely underestimated how much of an enthusiast he really is. You busy yourself scanning through all the different titles he owns, forgetting about your real objective for today until there is a stifled cough from next to you. You whip your head around to find Kenma awkwardly standing, the CD he intends to loan held out with an outstretched hand. Before you could apologise, Kenma opened his mouth first.

“Do you wanna play some games?”

You don’t think you’ve ever said yes so fast.

(v)

The months pass by far too quickly, and you’ve found yourself at the bleachers, cheering next to Alisa Haiba and Akane Yamamoto till your throat threatens to go sore. From the Spring High tournament up until nationals, your eyes have never left Kenma’s figure. Even up till the moment when the ball first fell, and Kenma resigns himself to the floor in exhaustion while tears cloud your vision amidst the noise of the court. Even with your short time watching this team, their loss after a string of wins had admittedly hit you hard.

(A part of you can’t help but think you are bidding farewell to something special.)

When you see the team later, hustling their tired bodies to their accommodations, you join Alisa and Akane in praising the group and their efforts thus far. The rest of the teams respond with their gratitude, some of it mixed with tears, and it's only Kenma who shuffles away from the sudden attention. When your eyes meet his, you aren’t sure what force urges you to throw your arms around him, the past two years of memories with him swarming your mind all at once.

(What is wrong with you?)

You take expressed care in not letting your desires come to fruition, instead merely smiling widely at him hoping it’s enough to convey how you feel. You are surprised that despite his visible fatigue, he still manages to give you a small smile in return. It takes you aback because you swore it felt gentle.

(What is he to you?)

Despite the third years officially retiring from the volleyball team in pursuit of their plans for the near future, you still visit the club often. Kenma is still a fixture in your life. It feels like nothing has changed after the final match, but it has, and you can’t put your finger on it. This haunts you more than you care to admit.

Whether Kenma notices your newly odd behaviour and has chosen to ignore it is beyond your knowledge, but right now you are in his room, resting against the footboard with nothing but a stray pillow to support you. Kenma lounges directly opposite you, back against the headboard as his fingers tap away at his handheld game. You have a matching one in hand, but you’ve long since abandoned concentration, opting to instead stare absentmindedly at the colourful screen. Perhaps he’s noticed the lack of movement on your part, because he looks up to stare at you, inquisitive and cautious.

“You aren’t playing,” He states bluntly, and long enough time has been spent for you to pick up on his silent follow-up question, “What’s wrong?”.

“It feels off,” You mumble, and there is a sudden silence on Kenma’s end as he pauses his game, the background music dying to show you that you have his attention. “Like… I don’t know if I can conceptualise my own future. Isn’t that weird? Most people usually have an idea where they wanna be when they're older.”

Kenma doesn’t respond immediately, and before embarrassment and regret can fester, he speaks up.

“It’s not weird,” His game unpauses, and he’s back to clicking away at his controls. However, he continues talking. “You don’t have to have every inch of your future planned out. That’s way more unrealistic and weird.”

There is a beat of silence.

“I don’t have anything planned either,” He says plainly, but to you, it feels like he’s letting you in on a secret. “It’s fine to figure it out later. It isn’t a race.”

“But if there is a race to worry about now, it’s this one. I’ve already won the last few rounds,” A smirk suddenly dons his lips, subtle and sly and you blink in surprise as you hurriedly tap back into your screen only to confirm that indeed, Kenma has won yet another round of virtual street racing. As attention is once again drawn back into the game, you can’t help but feel your heart beat rapidly against the cage of your chest. You wonder if he can hear it.

Your second year ends with Kenma’s leg brushing against yours.

(vi)

You blinked, and it was already graduation day. Students carry their diplomas proudly, taking pictures with their friends or their families who stayed back after the ceremony. Yours is clutched tightly in your fist, and your family and friends have long since bided you congratulations and tearful farewells. Your attention now is preoccupied by thoughts of Kenma, and how you hope he hasn’t already headed home after the ceremony, no matter how characteristic it is for him to do so. You pass by the glossy-eyed Yamamoto and the smiling Fukunaga, to who you share your congratulations before they point you in the general direction of where they had last seen Kenma. You move on autopilot, briskly walking past countless bodies to spy a familiar head of blonde hair. Surprisingly, you find Kuroo first, with the alumni towering over most of the other students with his spiky hair. You see Kenma next to him, seemingly conversing with each other. Your heart rate picks up.

It seems Kuroo’s eyes land on you as well, as he interrupts his conversation to grin and wave you over. He is a welcomed sight, despite the fact you both never got to be close even before his graduation last year. Kenma, confused by what caught Kuroo’s attention, turns over his shoulder. You rush over to the pair.

“Hey, you! Congratulations on graduating,” Kuroo is the first to greet you once you walk over, and he pats you gently on the shoulder in a gesture that feels akin to a grandfather’s. You decide not to point this out on such a day.

“Congrats,” Kenma doesn’t meet your eye, fingers tugging at the ends of the paper in his hand. You’re slightly taken aback by the sudden reservation but still manage to return the greeting. Amidst this sudden development, Kuroo seemed to have taken it as an excuse to dismiss himself, perhaps to find his other underclassmen or to spare himself from the sudden tension in the air.

“I dreamed of this day for years, but now that it’s here, I’m not sure how to feel,” You laugh awkwardly, and when Kenma doesn’t respond you grow quiet. “Kenma?”

“What are you going to do after this?” He suddenly asks, surprising you with the sudden question. It doesn’t feel like something he’d ask.

“You mean… what I’m going to do after now, at this moment?”

“No, I mean,” He seems to be growing frustrated, and you aren’t sure if it’s with you or himself as he runs a hand through his hair. “Later in the future.”

You hesitate.

“I think I’ll study more,” You say with some confidence. “I don’t have all the details but… I’ll figure it out, right?”

Finally, Kenma seems to relax a little, and you wonder if he picked up on you parroting his words back at him.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” He mumbles out and there is a pregnant silence, where the both of you wait for the other to break it.

“But what I do know is that I still want you to be my friend. Is that fine?” You bite the bullet, and this is probably the most resolute you’ve been around the blonde. He looks at you, a little startled by your uncharacteristic declaration, and his usually sharp eyes soften.

“Sure, that sounds fine,” You don’t notice how his fingers loosen their grip around his diploma. There is a faint smile on his lips, but his demeanour radiates something cunning. “We’re heading to a sushi place later, Kuroo’s treat. You wanna join?”

Even when Kuroo reappears to yell at Kenma for his poorly disguised plan to empty his wallet, your heart refuses to calm down. The breeze in his hair and the glimmer in his gold eyes confirm what you’ve always been afraid of.

You are in love with Kenma Kozume.

(vii)

You kick away your heels, exhaustion and frustration being the only driving forces that got you through the front door. At the sudden noise, a familiar head pokes through the doorway, and Kenma greets you with a raised brow.

“Another one?” He asks, and despite the curt words his tone is not accusatory, unimpressed at best. However, that doesn’t stop the groan that leaves your lips as you walk past him to practically dump yourself onto his couch.

“Tell me about it,” You speak in a single fatigued breath, grabbing onto a cushion that you can squeeze against your chest as a makeshift stress toy. “He told me forgot his wallet, so I had to pay for dinner, then he had the nerve to ask me for gas money when he only drove me two minutes down the road so I could catch a taxi home! Who is birthing these degenerates?”

Kenma, perhaps afraid you might launch the pillow at him in misplaced anger, decides to sit next to you instead of in your direct line of vision.

“Sounds like it sucked,” He says the obvious, and you don’t blame him for his aloof response despite wanting a bit more comradery. Kenma never cared for the dating scene, and it's this fact that has driven you into a world of blind dates and dating apps. Anything to escape the fact that you love Kenma in a way that he cannot reciprocate. Anything to convince yourself you can move on, despite how unsuccessful you have been for the past eight years. You’re aware you’ve already leaned onto his side, and it's years of knowing each other that lets you be this close to him despite his usual aversion to physical touch. Sixteen years old you couldn’t have even dreamt this up, you think humourlessly.

“I’m probably gonna end up alone with six cats,” You say miserably, and yelp when you are flicked on the forehead, lifting a hand to frantically rub at the reddening spot. “Hey!”

“Ending up with six cats is better than marrying a trashy guy,” He states, probably the closest show of annoyance you’ve gotten from him. “I’m ordering takeout. Do you want anything?”

You nod, and he doesn’t need to ask for your order, your usual is already memorised. You unlatch your hands from the fabric of his hoodie so he can get up and phone the restaurant, with you quickly growing to miss him by your side, left to find warmth in your discarded cushion. Despite you not technically living here, it goes without question that Kenma’s place is practically yours. It’s as concrete as the spare house key that rests in the depths of your purse.

It’s one of the benefits of being Kenma’s friend. Just his friend.

Hell, if you could go back in time, you’d tell your teenage self that their biggest concern wouldn’t be their career. It would be their innocent crush on Kenma spiralling to whatever confusing mess this is.

When Kenma returns, you’re already scrolling through his selection of games on his PlayStation, to which he joins you, returning to his previous seat beside you. Throughout the years together, the both of you have changed. Some aspects for the better. Some aspects for the worst. Ultimately, there was nothing more unifying than loading up a game and playing together. It reminded you of those nostalgic evenings when you’d lounge in Kenma’s room with him when the both of you were too beat from school and club activities to bother with conversation. Gaming had always been your guy’s silent language.

The doorbell rings timingly, signalling the arrival of your food. Amidst dinner you regaled him in the latest happenings at your controversial workplace, while he listens silently, only interjecting once or twice with a hum. Before you know it, dinner is finished and Kenma is stretching his tired limbs.

“I’m heading to bed,” He informs, and you bid him goodnight as you take custody of the guest bedroom, as you usually do when staying over. Perhaps someone with more common sense will tell of the implications of leaving a toothbrush, a charger and spare clothes at his place, and how his guest bedroom’s only occupant seems to be you. However, these are thoughts you busy yourself to not entertain. Getting your hopes crushed is far more ruthless than stewing in the middle ground of not knowing what you are to Kenma.

You’ve donned your spare night-time clothing, and you are caught in surprise by the sudden strong draught in the room. You shiver instantly, turning your attention to the curtain drifting alongside the open breeze. You rush over, thinking Kenma must have forgotten to close the window, but when you draw aside the curtains, you're baffled to find the window in its entirety completely missing. Did someone steal Kenma’s window?

You are already at the gamer’s bedroom door, with some hesitation since you feel guilty for interrupting his sleep considering his busy day tomorrow. Within your second knock at the door, it opens and you find a dishevelled Kenma leaning against the door, sleep-ambled and his long hair free from its usual bun. You take extra care in not letting your eyes travel to his low-waist pyjama pants. You hurriedly explain the situation for the window, which he manages to comprehend while slapping a hand to his forehead.

“Ugh right, I forgot I was getting that window fixed,” He grumbles. “Uh, you can take my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Woah, wait, no!” You hurriedly stop him with an exaggerated show of hands. “This is your house, you should be sleeping in your bed. Plus, you’ve got work tomorrow!”

“The couch isn’t wide enough for you to sleep comfortably,” He states plainly.

“The same goes for you then!”

There is a terse silence, where the both of you stare each other down, not confrontationally but to think of a solution. Hazed with sleep, Kenma reaches a conclusion first.

“Fine, we’ll both take the bed. We’ll just stay at our sides,” His suggestion almost made you choke on air, and you are barely able to stifle your surprised reaction, however, Kenma isn’t known for being unobservant, as he merely sighs.

“Look, I can seriously stay on the couch it’s fi—”

“Okay! We’re sharing,” You have already briskly walked, not letting Kenma see your frazzled expression as you feel your face heat up. You weren’t about to let him sleep on his couch in his own home. You wish you could describe the nerves that feel you when Kenma slowly closes the door behind you.

Even getting into bed had been an awkward ordeal, in which Kenma refuses to look your way while you decide to put your absolute best efforts into getting into bed without seeming like you want to bolt out of the room at a moment’s notice. When your head finally hits the pillow, some of your internal complaints have disappeared, relishing in the comfort of finally relaxing your tired body on a comfortable mattress and pillow. You are quickly snapped back into reality when you feel the bed dip in weight from where Kenma gets in. To his credit, he’s laying as close as possible to the edge as he could, giving you the most distance possible in a queen-sized bed. It doesn’t ease the pounding in your chest, and the flutters in your stomach. You feel like you’re seventeen again, back when your heart used to dance if Kenma did something as simple as brush his hand against yours when you reach for the same thing. Except, this is a whole other level of closeness you have never covered with him. It makes you excited. It makes you want to throw up.

“Your leg is shaking,” He mutters, and you whip around to find Kenma facing you, eyes tired but you can spy a glint of concern even under the room's darkness. “I can still take the couch if you’re nervous, it’s fine.”

Damnit, you wished he’d get flustered instead of you for once. You wish he’d show a lick of interest, so you can finally stop these horrible first dates and yearning glances when he isn’t looking. You wish he’d just reject you, so you can finally put to rest the sheer love you hold for him, the man who has reserved a special type of fondness for you that you can’t tell if it should belong to a friend or not.

“Do you like me?” You don’t even register your lips these words escaped from, not until you see Kenma’s eyes widen under the dim LED light of his monitor. It’s too late to take them back, and you can’t stop how your breathing threatens to stop as you wait for his answer.

“... Yeah,” He answers, “You’re here all the time.”

He didn’t get it. He didn’t get it at all.

“Sorry, yeah, never mind it was a stupid question to ask,” You manage to splutter out, and you quickly turn around to hide yourself from Kenma’s confused gaze. “I kept you up enough already, let’s just sleep.”

The room goes quiet again, and you will yourself to hold back the tears that threaten to blur your vision. There is no way you’re going to cry of all things. You screw your eyes shut. You can deal with this in the morning when he’s not around. You just have to make it through the night.

The mattress shifts in weight again, and you assume Kenma is trying to get more comfortable, but your heart drops when you feel an arm, hesitant and shy, reach around you. Slender fingers rest on your hand, and a clothed chest presses against your back.

“Saying I like you like everyone else isn’t enough,” You hear Kenma’s voice behind you, mumbled but you can pick up the slight tremor of his hesitance. “I like you in a different way than others do. More than they ever could, probably.”

You turn your body around, and Kenma’s fingers retract from its hold. You latch onto the sleeves of his nightshirt, and you try to breathe normally so you can get your words out.

“I really like you, Kenma,” Your hand clutches his. “Since we were in high school. Since I used to watch you play games. Since I used to come to your volleyball matches. Are you saying you like me the same way?”

“Yeah,” It’s a simple and definitive answer, and he squeezes your trembling hand. His lips are quirked upwards at the corners, eyes narrowed in affection. “That’s exactly how I like you too.”

Some would enthrall that moments like these are when fireworks erupt in the air, and a romantic and desperate kiss is shared between lovers. However, that is not your Kenma, who is not romantic, but instead observant and tactful and has put you through the wringer for almost an entire decade. He moves closer to you and lets his head rest into the crook of your neck, his lips tracing your skin as he speaks.

“Goodnight.”

The sun will rise again.

[mitsuas-coffee-shop]

𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎: 07/09/2024 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎: Would they peel a tangerine for you? 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: none 𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜: fluff 𝚃𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙻 (𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝): $349

I. The ones who do it without asking

"Yes, of course darling", they say after quickly grabbing the tangerine from your hands and start peeling it skillfully or maybe a little clumsily, still, the act is appreciated.

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Izuku Midoriya, Kirishima Eijiro, Sero Hanta, Mirio Togata, Hinata Shouyo, Asahi Asumane, Kiyoko Shimizu, Ittetsu Takeda, Ryuuchi Kashima, Keigo Saikawa, OM!: Mammon, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon

II. The ones who do it doubtfully

"Huh, you don't know how to do it? Don't worry, I can teach you, look"—they start peeling it off slowly for you to watch closely and learn (if you really don't know) or start giggling from their cute reaction.

๋ ࣭ ⭑Shotou Todoroki, Tenya Iida, Tamaki Amajiki, Nejire Hadou, Momo Yaoyorozu, Aizawa Shouta, Takami Keigo, Shigaraki Tomura, Tobio Kageyama, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Ryonusuke Tanaka, Daichi Sawamura, Keigo Saikawa, Yoshihito Usaida, Hayato Kamitani, Maria Inomata, OM!: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Barbatos, Solomon

III. The ones who tell you to fuck off and do it yourself, regretting it after seeing you sad

"What? No." As simple as that, they refuse your wish and shoo you away. 'You can't give up just now', you think, so try once more—this time making a pouty face that would be incredibly difficult to resist. They end up groaning while snatching the fruit from your hands and do it rapidly to stop that devilish smile you're giving them.

๋ ࣭ ⭑Katsuki Bakugou, Neito Monoma, Aizawa Shouta, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi, Tsukishima Kei, Hayato Kamitani, Maria Inomata, OM!: Solomon

IV. The ones that does not give a shit about it

"Hey, I asked if you can help me!" you exclaim after they just fled away from your sight when you asked them to. So sad, probably they already know what this is about and they do not wish to be part of it.

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Katsuki Bakugou, Aizawa Shouta, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi, Tsukishima Kei, OM!: Belphegor

V. The ones who don't know how to peel it, but still try

"Uh... uhm, I don't know how to put this... I've never peeled a tangerine off", they confess, head low in embarrassment. You smile sadly to their response, trying to cheer them up, you end up peeling it off to show them how to do it. After this, rest assured, you'll have your back covered if peeling tangerines is what you need.

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Denki Kaminari, Izuku Midoriya, Tamaki Amajiki, Mirio Togata, Hinata Shouyo, Ryounusuke Tanaka, Yu Nishinoya, Ittetsu Takeda, Ryuuchi Kashima, OM: Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Diavolo, Simeon

VI. The ones who fake not knowing how to peel it

It probably started off as the latter one, and as you are about to tear a part from the tangerine, it getting caught with your nail uncomfortably, you wince and catch your partner's sly smile. "Oh you're gonna pay"—yeah they won't ever refuse to anything you ask ever again.

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Hitoshi Shinsou, Neito Monoma, Sero Hanta, Mirio Togata, Nejire Hadou, Takami Keigo, Dabi, Yu Nishinoya, Daichi Sawamura, Koshi Sugawara, Keishin Ukai, Yoshihito Usaida, OM!: Satan, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Barbatos, Solomon

˚ ༘ ೀ ⋆ ｡˚ ˚ ༘ ೀ ⋆ ｡˚ +6 peeled tangerines

All writings rights reserved © 2024 Mitsua's Coffee Shop. (Credit to the respective owners of the pictures and tagged anime characters.)

[ravenslvt]

HII I'M OBSESSED WITH YOUR WRITINGS ESPECIALLY THE HOT BROTHER RINTAROU AJWJSBSJSJJA 😭

can you write about him overstimulating and making his s/o squirting 👀

☆ bf!suna rintarou x f!reader smut ☆

cw: smut! overstimulation, teasing, squirting, edging, oral f recieving, short but sweet!

it started with a bluff.

“squirting is not a real thing. i guarantee no guy can actually make a woman do that” you scoffed after the topic was randomly brought up in a conversation with your boyfriend.

his eyebrow quirked.

“how much you wanna bet?”

“f-fuck rin!” you moan, his fingers jackhammering into your squelching cunt. you gripped his wrist as he layed you down on your shared bed.

he’d already made you cum once like this, this time his pace is faster, adding a third finger.

“s’too much!” you whine, trying to pull away from his touch as a second orgasm approaches, purley overstimulated from his fingers alone.

“oh, c’mon, baby. you wanted this, didn’t you?” his pace doesn’t rest, your wetness practically dripping down his wrist. you whimper as you feel yourself about to cum again, and you scream when he pulls away.

“whyy??” you pout up at him. you were completely naked and he was still fully clothed in his workout sweatpants and black compression shirt. he looked too fucking good. you could see the bulge of his hard cock through his pants. you reach your hand out to touch it, but he swats it away.

“this is about you, remember? i’ll fuck you as a reward after, okay?” he whispered, kissing you on the top of your head. you nod, pouting at your mean mean boyfriend. what a stupid bet.

“oh don’t look at me like that, sweetheart.” he kisses down your neck, sucking small marks into your collarbones. you mewl as he bites down. his hands reaching back to your thighs as he gets on his knees, your legs hanging off the bed. he grabs your legs to rest on his shoulders as he gives your clit small kisses.

you gasp when his tongue laps at your sopping folds like a starved man. your hands grip in his hair when he sucks on your clit, bringing up his hand to prod three fingers in your already abused hole.

with the combination of his fingers curling inside of you along with the intense suckling on your sensitive bud, your thighs start to shake around him.

“gonna cum, rin!” you whine. but right at the peak, he pulls away, denying your orgasm. you look at him with tears in your eyes, the feeling of your appending climax fading.

“hurts s’bad rinn, need to cum!” you squirm in his grasp. he just gives your pussy a slap, making you yelp.

“you’re such a needy fucking slut, baby. be patient.” he warns, wiping the stray tears from your eyes. you wanted to scream at your boyfriend, but you knew it would only egg him on.

“i hate you…” you mumble.

“hmm, what was that?” his head perks up from your cunt.

“i said i love you, rin!” you give him a fake smile. he rolls his eyes. his tounge teasing your pussy again, making your head roll back into the mattress.

he edged you at least three more times. maybe four? you lost count.

you were panting, sweat certainly dripping down your brow. the sheets below you were fucking soaking. and you still hadn’t squirted yet. he was holding back and you knew it.

your eyes rolled back as his mouth abused your needy cunt, switching between his tongue rolling over your clit and taking it between his mouth, sucking and gently grazing his teeth over it.

all while his three large fingers repeatedly brush over your g spot, curling and straightening out over and over until you were screaming.

finally, fucking finally, just when you thought he was gonna pull away and watch you squirm, he just fucked you harder with his mouth and fingers.

your thighs shook around his head, almost scared you were gonna bust his head open. his fingers pumped into you relentlessly, your screams getting louder and louder as your vision starts to get hazy, seeing black spots from the sheer stimulation.

you moan his name, babbling random incoherent pleas as you clench around his fingers. your boyfriend had made you cum dozens of times before, but this time felt… different.

your eyes screw shut as you shake uncontrollably, feeling yourself release onto his mouth and fingers. you felt yourself pulse around him, hips rutting into his mouth.

“that’s it, doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby, look at you!” suna praises, clear liquid coating his chin and the sheets below you. you’re panting intensely, using all of your strength to sit up to look down at your boyfriend who was grinning like a fucking madman.

“told you i could do it”

great, now you owe him.

the bet was taking the day off tomorrow so he could fuck you all day in bed. in your defense you didn't actually expect him to make you squirt!! rintarou is such a mean bf :( (but you still love him)

masterlist check out my other suna stuff!! :)

a/n: ahh tysm for this ask!! <33 hehe sorry if it’s short but suna nation rise !!

[shoyostar]

𝓓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝓕𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝓗𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!

oh future husband, better love me right!

premise. the nhk is hosting another special broadcast featuring the popular fiancées of the jnt’s lineup! and this time, it’s truth or drink! ❤︎

content. haikyu!! jnt / f!reader. (koutarou bokuto, morisuke yaku, kiyoomi sakusa & tobio kageyama). fluff. downbad fiancés. suggestive jokes & allusions to sex. petnames. alcohol. overseas!kageyama & yaku (LDR). reader lives in japan (does not equal being japanese). a little angst.

notes. this part is… a little long! sit down for it ❤︎

soundtrack. dear future husband : meghan trainor.

part one can be read here.

dear future husband m.list // hq. masterlist.

KOUTAROU BOKUTO.

“Been awhile since I last drank,” Bokuto cracks his knuckles upon seeing the many selections of beer he gets to choose, fingers twitching eagerly as they hover over the bottles. “Wonder what I should get…”

You sigh beside him jokingly, nudging his shoulder with your elbow, “We don’t have all day, Kou.”

“I’m just looking!” He chuckles, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

He randomly picks up a bottle of Sapporo, rotating it in his hands before nodding to himself, “This seems good!”

You place your hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the studio for a final run through before the broadcast, “Alright, Kou. Now let’s get this started!”

The NHK film crew do a final mic and sound check when you arrive as a staff member seats you both at the table in the centre of the studio, a pile of cards with questions written on them, two shot glasses and the Sapporo bottle your fiancé picked out lined on it’s top.

After fiddling with the microphones hidden inside your clothes, the crew give you two a thumbs up and rush back to their cameras to start the recording.

Bokuto’s entire body is turned towards the cameras, sitting on the edge of his seat as he eagerly greets the viewers, “Hey! I’m Koutarou Bokuto,” he catches your eyes with a bright smile, grabbing your hand from across the table, “And this is my fiancée!”

“And we’ve been together for three years now,” You finish for him, hands folded neatly on the table, the cameras pan to show off the engagment rings that sits prettily on both you and Bokuto’s fingers.

“Four months engaged.”

“And we’re playing truth or drink!” You and Bokuto announce happily together, smiling at each other before turning your bodies back to face the cameras. The film crew adjust their angles, moving their cameras off their stands to get better opening shots of you and your fiancé.

“You guys ready to play?” The head camera crew member asks, giving you the okay to start the game.

The studio lights illuminate the white backdropped room, enveloping your eyes in waves whenever you stare at the camera lenses for a little too long.

You and Bokuto nod as he shifts his gaze towards you, “Want me to go first, Baby?” He asks, already grabbing his shot glass and the bottle of Sapporo. You giggle, “So eager to get drunk, Kou?”

“I told you, it’s been awhile!” He beams, pouring out the alcohol carefully into his shot and grabbing the top card from the pile on the table.

“What do you like most about me?” he reads aloud, looking up at you curiously, “I’m pretty sure you’ve told me this exact answer before.”

“Have I?” you tilt your head in thought, thinking the question over, “I mean, probably. It has been three years, after all.”

Bokuto places the card face down on his side of the table, combing through his hair, “I think when we first started dating, you told me it was my hair.”

“It is nice,” you agree, causing Bokuto to start laughing and in turn making you giggle as well. The two of you are already giddy and snickering despite no alcohol being present in your systems yet, “But I think now that we’re engaged, I can give a more detailed answer.”

“Oh?”

He leans over the table excitedly, a wide grin plastered across his face, “Tell me, Baby! What do you like most about me?” His hand is still placed atop of yours, the perfectly cut gems in both of your rings twinkling in sync underneath the studio lights, perfectly complimenting you fiancé’s eyes.

You hum in faux thought for a moment before smirking, “Hmm, your muscles.”

Bokuto’s smile drops slightly to a pout, still keeping his bright composure while masking his lowered grin, “Awe, Baby I thought you were going to say something like, real deep and emotional!” He jests, “Like how you love that I make you smile, y’know?”

You throw your head back in laughter, nudging his shoulder with your free hand, “I’m kidding, Kou!” Your smile is genuine when you see how disappointed he was at first at your reply, looking straight into his eyes as a way reassure him.

“Yes, Kou. What I like most is that you make me the happiest every day I’m with you.”

His smile brightens significantly, a chuckle of his own escaping his lips as he leans back into his chair, “Damn, played by my own girl.”

He slides the pile of cards over to you with a mischievous smirk, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You take the top card off the pile and read it over, fingers twirling the empty shot glass in your hands. Your lips purse as you try to contain the giggles making their way up your throat while reading the question on the card, hands quivering in silent laughter.

“Have you ever wanted to fuck one of our friends while with me?” Bokuto’s eyes seem to pop out of his head at the vast difference and shift in questions, turning to the NHK staff while laughing, “Are you sure this is okay to broadcast?”

The film crew nod, to which Bokuto shrugs, “Alright, then,” before turning back to you. “Uhh, can I just like- take a shot right now?”

“You’d rather drink than not tell me?” You joke, pouring out the Sapporo for your fiancé, “Damn, Kou. Do I not satisfy you enough?”

“Of course you do!” He corrects himself hastily, “It’s just, uh..” he leans in closer to you whisper in your ear quietly, “I don’t want to say Atsumu on national T.V...”

Your hand flies to your mouth in shock, shoulders shaking as you try to contain your cackles, “Atsumu?” you repeat in a hushed tone, making sure you heard him correctly. “Him?”

“He’s got nice hair!”

You both start to laugh at how hair seems to be a common appealing trait you notice in people. Shaking your head in mock disappointment, you shove the stack of questions back over to your fiancé’s side for his turn.

“What is the most embarrassing thing you caught me doing when I thought I was alone?” Bokuto asks, reading from the card he picked off the top of the pile and glancing back up at you.

You hum in thought for a moment, pondering the question.

“Uhm, I think that time you were rehearsing your Valentines day speech to me before we went out to eat at that restaurant a few years ago,” you reveal cautiously, “but you were using a pillow with a photo of my face taped on it as a stand-in.”

Bokuto’s jaw drops at the revelation, nearly falling out of his chair from the shock of what you just divulged to him, “You were there? Watching me do that?”

You have to practically fight the cackle bubbling it’s way up your throat, a smile creeping onto your face when you answer, “Yes, Kou. But it was sweet, so I didn’t mention it to you.”

“You kept that a secret for two years?” He asks again, and you nod.

Your fiancé’s face remains stunned for a few more moments before breaking out into a smile of his own, hand running down his face while laughing to himself. “Damn, I must’ve looked so dumb.”

“I thought it was cute!” You attempt to salvage things, giggling as you pick up the next question card, this time it’s for Bokuto.

“What part of wedding planning is the most challenging part for you?”

“The money…” He pouts, taking the card from you to read it over again before turning to the cameras.

“Weddings are so damn expensive— Did you know wedding flowers can cost up to two million yen?” He exclaims in shock, “For flowers!”

You sigh, plucking the question card from his hand and setting aside on his pile with a smile, “This is why you should leave the financial decisions to me, Kou. Our floral arrangements will not be that expensive, I can assure you.”

“Of course, Baby,” he grins, “I trust you completely on that,” his hands move to pick up the next card, lifting the corner and taking a peek at the question before flipping it over and reading it.

“What is something you’ve wanted to try in the bedroom but haven’t told me about?”

“Impact play,” comes your answer a bit too hastily to be considered normal.

Bokuto has a silent stare off with you for a few seconds after before you both break out in hysterical laughter, your fiancé cackling at how fast and prepared you were when you answered while you exclaim that’s why you could never tell him.

“Baby, that was so fast!” Bokuto reels over the table, pounding his fist into the wood while howling with laughter, gripping his empty shot glass in hand.

“Were you— were you that prepared to answer?”

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you make an attempt to defend your response, “I know you’d absolutely wreck me if we tried, that’s why I never asked!”

“I mean…” He trails off, glancing at you and letting his eyes roam your ring finger as a smirk makes it’s way onto his face, leaning closer to you over the table. “We could always try it at home later—”

“Last question!” You interrupt him, pulling the cards over to your side and grabbing the last question from the stack, you see Bokuto’s smile drop when he sits back in his seat from how you changed topics until he sees you wink at him from the corner of his eye.

“What is something you wish to tell me before we get married?”

Bokuto’s eyes light up at his question, holding up his shot of Sapporo and beaming brightly. Despite not drinking much during your game, his cheeks are flushed like he’s been drunk on your love this entire time, eyes crinkling with glee when he smiles.

“I hope I can keep being this happy when i’m with you after marriage,” He declares, “I love you, Baby.”

“I love you too, Kou,” you smile with him, raising your own shot to clink your two glasses together and down them simultaneously, the cool smoothness of the beer running down your throats.

You can feel the mild bitterness on your tongue afterwards, it leaves it’s taste behind even several hours after your drinking game when you two return to your shared home.

But the sincerity in Bokuto’s eyes when they fell on you back in the studio, and the way he gazes at you like you’re the only thing in his world even with the several NHK staff and film members recording your every move washes that all away instantaneously, overpowering it with sheer sweetness.

It’s just not one you can taste as easily as the flavour of Sapporo.

You might not have gotten drunk that night, but Bokuto’s certain he’s been drunk on your love for the entirety of all three years you’ve been together and wouldn’t mind if things stayed like this forever.

MORISUKE YAKU.

“You’re going down, sweetheart,” Yaku warns you with a teasing wink, lifting the bottle of Vodka in his hands to inspect the label, “Playing in the Russian League gives me an alcohol tolerance advantage that you don’t have.”

“I didn’t know just playing in Russia meant you were an experienced drinker,” you hum, playing along with his jokes for the fun of it. “I don’t think athletes are supposed to consume a lot of vodka anyways.”

“Well, you might as well back out now,” Yaku advises, shrugging with a sly grin, one of the camera crew’s members rushes up to fix the loose microphone on his suit before scurrying back to their position.

“Don’t wanna get beaten by your own fiancé now, do you?”

You merely roll your eyes at his antics, a reluctant smile making it’s way onto your face as you realign the messy stack of cards on your table, sounds of the director doing a final run through of lights and cameras are heard around you.

“Yeah yeah, save it for after you get wasted, Mori.”

The cameras start up as the director nods in your direction, indicating for you two to introduce yourselves to the viewers tuning in, Yaku holds your hand as he recites his lines.

“Hi, I’m Morisuke Yaku,” your fiancé beams, giving your hand a comforting squeeze, “And this right here, is my wonderful fiancée, whom I adore very much.”

Even several years later, Yaku’s swoon worthy words have an effect on you after all this time, making you feel like you’re still in that young and eager love stage. Attempting to hide your giddy face from him, you turn to face the camera as well with a wide grin.

“We’ve been together for four and a half years,” You gush, the sparkling engagement band on your finger being shown outwardly when the cameras zoom in for a closer look. “Engaged for eight months, now.”

“And today, we’ll be playing truth or drink,” Yaku reveals to the excited viewers, the cameras change positions to new angles while the sound crew makes sure your microphones are picking up your words.

After signaling to the director that they are indeed working, he asks you two, “Are you ready to play?”

You and Yaku both agree as he opens the bottle of Vodka, pouring it into your shot glass first before he pours out his own, “Hm, what a gentleman you are, Mori.” You joke, noticing he gave you your alcohol first before serving himself any.

“Always, for you.” He sighs dreamily, setting the bottle down beside him and pushing the cards over to you with his familiar cheshire grin. “And because I’m such a gentleman, you should go first, love.”

You stifle a laugh into the palm of your hand at the sudden switch in personality but take the top card off anyway, flipping it over and reading the question for Yaku written on it, “What is one thing you wish I did more of in our relationship?”

He groans, slumping down in his seat with his Vodka in hand, “Fly over to come visit me overseas,” he jokingly groans, faux-booing you with a thumbs down and all as he turns to the film crew.

“Did you know she doesn’t get on the first plane to Russia whenever I ask, can you believe her?”

You merely snicker at his jeers and turn your card over, placing it down on the table beside your shot. “Well I’m sorry, but I’m unable to predict whenever you’ll miss me spontaneously.”

“It’s not spontaneous,” Yaku argues, “I tell you like, two minutes in advance.”

You raise an eyebrow at his claims, “Wanna bet, Mori? I have screenshots.”

“Maybe I’ll just drink to this instead.”

You both giggle as he shakes his head in defeat, taking the next card off the pile and reading out loud the first question for you.

“Have you ever—” Yaku begins to lose his composure as he reads, holding back his giggles before sputtering out, “faked an orgasm with me?”

You burst out into laughter as Yaku discards the card to his side, head thrown back in hysterics while using the table to stabilize himself.

“Well?” He asks, wiping the tears that have begun to form around his eyes, “Have you?”

You begin to reach for your Vodka shot, causing your fiancé to break out into another, more excessive fit of cackles, “Are you serious, honey?”

“Okay well, maybe!” You confess wholeheartedly, raising the Vodka to your lips, “Back when we were first dating!”

Yaku scoffs disapprovingly, but you can tell he’s not seriously mad when you down the vodka and he’s looking at you worriedly, asking if it was too strong for you afterwards.

You dismiss his concerns, saying it’s fine and that you can handle it before he relaxes and pushes the cards back over to you.

“Have you ever had a dream about me cheating on you?” You ask him, Yaku’s face immediately sours at his question, you look to him expectantly and wait for his reply.

“… Ugh, yes,” he begrudgingly admits after a few moments of silence, eyebrows furrowing as he recalls it unpleasantly, “I had a dream once where you cheated on me with Lev.”

“Lev?” You cackle, “The— the 6’5 russian guy from your highschool volleyball team??”

Yaku’s hand moves to his vodka-filled shot glass, “Yes,” he moans, “It was awful. Hope I never see Lev butt-naked in my dreams ever again.”

“You don’t have to drink to this one, Mori,” you giggle as Yaku downs his vodka quickly, not even flinching at the burn, maybe he was right about the tolerance advantage. “Since you answered it.”

“Ah, don’t care,” he groans, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his suit, “After having to reimagine that scene, I needed the alcohol.”

Yaku takes the next card off the pile of questions skeptically, flipping it over and reading it out loud.

“Do you have any insecurities when it comes to me playing overseas in Russia?”

The question causes you to stop and think as Yaku places the card face down next to him, pouring another shot and sliding it over to you. “You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart.”

His gentle tone reassures you but you shake your head, pushing the vodka away, “No it’s okay, I don’t mind saying it.” Yaku looks surprised but nods understandingly, taking the glass back and giving you the room to process your next words while he remains quiet.

“I think my only insecurity is not knowing if you’re safe while overseas,” you admit to your fiancé. Yaku doesn’t say anything in response, knowing you have more to say as he lets you say what you need while silently encouraging you to elaborate.

“I hate not having you beside me because I don’t know where you are, and I just miss you a lot you know?”

Yaku’s cheek rests against the palm of his hand, concern washing over his face again as he looks across the table to you, “Awe, honey. I didn’t know you felt that way,” he coos, “do you hate whenever I leave for volleyball season?”

You shrug dismissively, the weight of your words beginning to catch up to you as your voice becomes quieter, trailing off at the end. “I mean, I don’t hate it, but like- I wanna know you’re alright while in Russia…”

Yaku’s about to speak when you shake your head dismissively, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” before you’re reaching for the deck of cards, already pulling the top question up and flipping it over to read.

Your eyes drag over the words as a pit begins to form inside your stomach. The next question for Yaku causes you to cringe, still reeling from the uneasiness of the last one as you awkwardly ask him, “Have you… ever regretted or had doubts about our engagement?”

Yaku’s face of concern turns into one of astonishment, he looks almost appalled at how unsure you look and sound while asking him.

“Absolutely not,” he states firmly, holding your hand that holds engagement band on it, you can feel the distress radiating off him as he reassures you in a hushed tone.

“I’ve never once regretted proposing to you, and I fully intend on marrying you.”

Yaku’s words dislodge the lump in your throat as you begin to chuckle to yourself, eyes looking down at his hand where the engagement ring he wears that matched your own. “I’m sorry if you thought I was doubting you, Mori. It’s just—”

“You don’t need to justify your feelings,” Yaku reiterates sternly, “I know, okay? You don’t need to explain this on live T.V.”

Knowing he’s only trying to make sure nothing of what you say can be interpreted wrongly later by media, you nod as he sighs in relief with an uneasy smile.

“I think this next question is our last one,” he announces, his smile morphing back into that familiar cheshire grin, the one that always brightens your day. You think he’s doing it in an attempt to lighten the mood, or maybe he just naturally makes you happy.

Yaku picks up the final question card and flips it over, reading it over with a calm smile, “What have you enjoyed most about being engaged to me?” His voice is gentle as he looks up to you, placing the card down on his pile.

“Well, love?” He encourages you, knowing he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable he gives you the choice, “Do you want to answer, or take a drink?”

You’d be a fool to drink at this question, there isn’t anything to drink for here but there’s just so much about being engaged to Yaku that you love that you can’t quite find the words for it. And while the majority of your engagement has been spent with Yaku being away in Russia, it doesn’t mean you enjoy it any less than if he were with you in Japan.

“… I enjoy knowing you will always be with me,” you begin to speak slowly, making sure your words are clear and concise while twirling your empty shot glass in hand absentmindedly.

Trying to fit all you want to say to your fiancé in a few words is tough, but you manage to shorten it enouhh to say all you want to tell him. “Because even while you’re playing overseas, I know you will always come back home to me.”

Yaku’s face unexpectedly heats up at your words, the apples of his cheeks turning bright red as his lips form into a shy and nervous grin, one isn’t anything like the mischievous and playful personality you’re accustomed to seeing while with him.

“I… I love you, sweetheart.” He manages to speak after some time, loosening the collar of his dress shirt nervously, but the smile on his face never falters. “I always have and always will.”

He extends his hand out to you, motioning for you to give him your shot glass. You hand it to him and he pours out some Vodka, sliding it back over to you once full before filling his own.

“Yes, honey,” he whispers unconsciously while pouring his alcohol, and it’s the happiest you’ve seen him all day. From his flushed complexion, dopey smile and euphoric demeanour, he appears to be glowing. Or maybe it’s the blaring lights behind him that are playing tricks on you.

Your fiancé has never looked so sure of himself until this moment, Yaku’s eyes never straying from yours as he raises his shot glass, breaking into his biggest smile yet.

“I will always come back home to you. No matter how long we are apart for,” and to that, you both cheer, clinking your glasses as you toast to your engagement.

Downing the alcohol in unison, the bitter sting of the Vodka attacks your throats relentlessly, but neither you or Yaku care about that in this moment or the next.

The world’s most intense Vodka brewed directly in the heart of Moscow, Russia could never be so strong as to have an effect on either of you when you’re in the presence of each other. You’re certain that Yaku would drown himself in the harshest of Vodka’s if it meant it was all for you.

A little Vodka is nothing compared to what he’d go through for you.

The way Yaku’s entire demeanour changes when with you, the largest of smiles etched onto his face for a side he only shows while you’re with him here, in Japan.

Remaining wholely committed to you even while seperated by land and sea is all a true testament to your relationship, and it puts your heart at ease.

Yaku may not always be at home; but Yaku knows that home is with you, and he knows he’ll always be with you in due time.

KIYOOMI SAKUSA.

“Oh, he’s a lightweight,” you tell the film crew who are adjusting their camera stands nearby as Kiyoomi pulls out the chair at the table for you to sit at, giggling when you hear the faintest muffled groan come from underneath his face mask.

Sitting atop the table is a bottle of Scotch, the deck of question cards and two shot glasses on it’s sanitized surface as per request by your fiancé.

“This’ll be so easy for me.”

“As if,” Kiyoomi scoffs, taking his own seat across from you and scooching his chair forward, “I’ll beat you and then have to hear you drunkenly cry about it back home later for the next several hours.”

“Nope,” you declare mischievously, folding your arms over the table and laying your head in them while looking up at your fiancé, “Hey, did you know Atsumu told me you’re an emotional drunk?”

You can see Kiyoomi’s eyes twitch underneath his thick black locs, hand reaching to grip his hair in annoyance. “That fucking—”

The director interrupts him unexpectedly when he calls to the rest of the crew in the studio for everyone to take their places behind the cameras, Kiyoomi sighs deeply as his shoulders relax and he leans back in his chair waiting for the broadcast to begin.

“I’m Kiyoomi Sakusa,” he states to the viewers plainly, barely acknowledging the cameras pointed straight at his face when he motions to you, “And this is my fiancée of almost a year.”

You can hear the way his voice softens lightly when referring to you as his fiancée.

“We’ve been together for four years now,” You welcome the viewers much more warmly than your fiancé does, announcing eagerly, “Engaged for eleven months, and we’re playing truth or drink!”

Again, you’re a lot more excited than Kiyoomi is when the director asks, “You guys okay to start playing?” but he agrees to it nonetheless, the subtle nod of his head doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

Kiyoomi grabs the stack of cards full of questions and shuffles the deck around a bit, when asked by the director why he did so he answers, “So if anyone planted any weird questions at the top of the pile for her they’re pushed to the bottom.”

After reorganizing the cards, Kiyoomi hands the stack to you, letting you have first pick of the game. You try to argue, but he doesn’t listen.

“Ladies go first,” he says, expectantly waiting for you to start.

You take the first card of the newly shuffled deck and begin to read it for your fiancé, “Favourite memory of us, pre-engagement or post-engagement?”

Kiyoomi taps his empty glass against the mahogany of the table repeatedly for a brief moment, thinking it over before letting out a deep sigh-turned groan, reaching over and pouring out some Scotch for himself as you sit back in stunned shock at his actions.

“Wait, what—”

“Don’t question me,” he rasps, lowering his face mask and downing his shot with ease, there’s hints of floral notes in the Scotch he can taste.

He pulls his mask back up seconds later and looks up at you, you swear you can see a smirk forming under his mask from the way his eyes lift in amusement afterwards, causing your cheeks to heat up at what he could’ve been thinking about that he had to take a shot to get out of saying it.

Finishing off his Scotch, your fiancé takes both the top card off the deck and his empty shot glass before reading aloud his first question for you.

“What was your first impression of me when we met?” Kiyoomi reads monotonously, his stare hardens when he notices you jokingly reaching for your shot glass, tossing the card over to your side with a groan.

“Really?” He huffs, arms crossed over his chest and glaring halfheartedly at your tease. “Didn’t Motoya say you like… hated me at first or something?”

“I didn’t hate you,” you giggle, pouring the Scotch into your glass while avoiding your fiancé’s gaze, “I just.. am a little thirsty right now.”

“Haha,” Kiyoomi laughs dryly, watching as you down your shot quickly, the citrusy notes in the Scotch make it pleasant to drink. “You’re soo funny, dear. Must be really thirsty today.”

“I am,” you wink, placing your glass back down on the table before taking the next card off the pile.

“What is the most embarrassing nickname for me you have in mind?” Kiyoomi asks, and you snort.

“It’s only embarrassing because Atsumu came up with it…” you turn to the cameras to whisper to the viewers, facing your fiancé who’s giving you a skeptic look that soon turns into existential dread when you begin to snicker.

He groans, “I swear to god if it’s Omi-Omi—”

“It’s Omi-Omi.”

You can practically feel the annoyance radiating off of Kiyoomi while you bat your eyelashes innocently at him, playful shrug of your shoulders as you pull the cards back over to your side, taking the next card off the deck while your fiancé whispers something about killing Atsumu at the next practice from across the table.

“What colour or colours are your favorite on me?” You look up at the director almost immediately before Kiyoomi can even open his mouth, “Can I just say it— Because I know.”

The director nods, “He told me once it was black and gold,” Kiyoomi mumbles something incoherent under his breath, whatever he’s saying being muffled by his nask as he hides his face away from the cameras, the camera crew exchange a look amongst themselves.

“Aren’t those the colours of the MSBY Black Jackals?” One of the crew members mentions offhandedly and you smirk, looking over to your flustered fiancé with the most shit-eating grin you can muster, “Yes, yes they are.”

“Should’ve just let me answer instead,” he mutters while pulling out the next card from the deck to move the game along, coughing as his face slowly returns to it’s natural colour.

He chuckles when he reads it over, “How would you spend an entire week without me?” he turns to the cameras with his own smug face, placing the card down on the table. “She doesn’t.”

“I can,” you interject and he gives you a deadpan stare, “Yeah, can. Doesn’t mean you do, though.”

“Anyways,” you swerve back to your answer, taking the card from his side and reading it over yourself.

“I would have a very relaxing week without you, consisting mostly of singing and dancing in our empty kitchen without you to judge me.”

“I don’t judge you.”

“Yes you do.”

“Nope.”

You two could probably have this back and fourth for hours on end but you stop when you catch the director’s eye, one of his assistants motions to you hurriedly that it’s nearly time to end the broadcast.

With that in mind, you pick up the last question card, flipping it over and reading it for Kiyoomi.

“What’s one thing you’d like to tell me at the alter if you couldn’t say anything else.”

“That I love you,” Kiyoomi says almost immediately, tracing the rim of his shot glass with his ring finger delicately, you can hear the gentleness in his voice when he speaks. “And that I hope you’ll always be my lover, whatever that means for us in the future.”

“That’s more than one thing, Kiyo.”

“I don’t care.”

You scoff playfully, tossing the card aside and pouring out two shots of Scotch for you and your fiancé. Whilst handing him his glass your rings bump together momentarily, the clinking of the diamonds makes the two of you smile, though Kiyoomi’s is hidden underneath his mask.

“Cheers, my dear,” he mutters softly, lowering his mask again to drink and allowing you to finally see the beautiful smile he hides underneath, usually reserved only for you.

“Cheers, Kiyo,” and you two drink, the Scotch tastes lovely and refined on both of your tongues when it runs down your throats with ease.

It’s light and sophisticated, and the flavour profile fits Kiyoomi so well. You consider telling him that, but refrain because you think he won’t understand what you mean; not knowing he’s thinking the exact same about you.

Kiyoomi thinks you two may be a match made in heaven, if such a thing exists then it perfectly encapsulates the two of you.

As the cameras cut and several crew members rush around the studio, Kiyoomi doesn’t notice any of that in this moment— his gaze continues to be locked onto you wholly; lovingly enraptured by the beautiful image of you across from him that he hopes will be burned into the back of his head like the taste of this Scotch, but for many years to come and not just a mere few hours.

Kiyoomi can drink Scotch at any time he pleases, but being married to you is something he is excited for and craves everyday of his life as the days on the calender tick down to your wedding, it keeps him motivated to continue each day if he knows it’s just one day closer to a life with you, one where he knows you will be with him every day going forward.

The day you two will finally be united as one. Kiyoomi can’t wait for that morning to come, when night falls and after the ceremony is done he can finally refer to you as his wife and not just his fiancée.

TOBIO KAGEYAMA.

Tobio gulps upon seeing the Sake being poured into his shot glass by the NHK staff member, being handed the alcohol before they pour out another shot for you, to which you graciously accept with a smile and nod of your head.

“Uhh…” His piercing gaze reaches across to you across the table, nervously fiddling with the glass in hand as he twirls it inbetween his fingers, “I don’t, really hold alcohol well, love..”

“Really?” You stare at him blankly, squinting down at the alcohol in your own shot, “what do you drink in Italy then, Tobio?”

“Limoncello,” he sighs, “but it’s supposed to be sipped slowly, not downed like shots usually are.” He makes a face as the thought of attempting to drink Limoncello like shots ripples through his mind, it would most definitely not end well for him.

You chuckle and give him a reassuring smile, placing your hand over his gently. The diamond on his ring is cool to the touch when you run your thumb over it, with sharp and well defined cut corners. “You’ll be fine, Tobio.”

He nods unsurely but allows the NHK camera crew to do their final run through, making sure everything is in order before the cameras begin to roll and the director is motioning for you both to recite your lines.

Your fiancé’s voice is a little strained, a faint stutter can be heard as he speaks slowly, “I’m… Tobio Kageyama,” he manages to say before craning his head to his left, across the table.

“And I’m her fiancé,” his eyes shift towards you as you give the cameras a polite wave, “We’re playing… truth or drink.”

“We’ve been together for five years,” You excitedly tell the viewers, holding up your ring finger to show off the dazzling diamond atop it, “And engaged for two.”

The director asks from out of frame, “Why have you two been engaged for so long?” A question that most viewers are probably wanting to know, Tobio answers it for you.

“I wanted to marry her sooner,” he timidly admits, looking down at his lap to avoid the harsh glares of the camera lenses, “But with me playing in Ali Roma, it’s hard to plan things out, I guess.”

You nod, “Besides,” you chime in giddily, taking over for him, “It’s fun to be in this little engaged stage for a long time, makes everyday that bit more exciting.”

You ramble on about how fun it is to call Tobio during his off days; calling him at three in the morning in Japan while in Italy it’s 7PM to tell him about a cute floral arrangement you saw earlier that day while shopping that you’d love to have at your wedding.

Facetiming him in the dark of the night, wrapped in blankets and wearing his highschool volleyball jersey to ask him what kind of food from Italy he wants to incorporate into the wedding menu, and texting him photos of different style of wedding dresses you’re considering wearing on your big day while getting out of the shower.

You unintentionally forget about your jittery mess of a fiancé while you speak, beaming as bright as the glowering studio lights as Tobio looks at you amazed.

Tobio’s nervousness slowly fades when he sees the ring on your finger and just how happy you are to be engaged to him. It’s always been a worry of his that you hate the long wait to get married to him, that playing overseas would hurt your relationship because of long he is away from home at times.

But your gleeful joy in telling thousands of viewers in real time that you love just being engaged to him for two years; that you don’t mind it at all, brings some peace of mind to his fragile heart.

“Are you two ready to play?”

Knuckles slowly unclenching as he takes a deep breath, he nods his head to the director, indicating the start of the game. He starts first, picking up the first card from the pile.

“What is the most awkward date we’ve ever been on?” Tobio’s face drops immediately upon reading, turning the card face down on the table and turning to the director, “Can I start over? Or make her drink?”

“It’s her choice if she wants to answer or drink.” The director answers.

Tobio turns to you hastily, eyes practically pleading with you not to say what you have on your mind, he’s already inside your mind and fears for what you could potentially reveal on national television, causing you to erupt in a fit of giggles as you reach for the Sake.

“Fine, fine. I won’t say, Tobio.” You’ve never seen your fiancé so relieved, almost seeing the metaphorical weight lifting off his shoulders with your own eyes when you take the shot.

The Sake is sweet, like sticky rice. It’s feels cool when it hits the back of your tongue and nice to drink, reminding you of the Italian sweets Tobio would send you from Italy. Noting that they’d pair nicely with Sake, you consider getting Tobio to send you more of them in the mail soon.

“You owe me for that one, Tobio,” you chuckle after finishing your shot, “Whatever the next question is you have to answer it.” He groans in protest but agrees after some convincing as you reach for the question pile and grab your first question for him.

“Have you kept a secret hobby or interest hidden from me?”

Shockingly, Tobio nods his head and unexpectedly calm about the question he was supposedly ‘forced’ to answer, “I got into gardening when I first came to Italy.”

“You what?” You utter, delightfully surprised at this revelation, “What plants do you take care of in Italy?”

“I have a few hanging Boston Fern and Ivy in some pots around my apartment…” Tobio tells you, adverting his gaze from your eyes the more your smile grows towards him. “I didn’t mean to keep them from you, I just… forgot to mention it everytime we call.”

“Tobio…” You laugh at how empty headed your fiancé can be at times, sometimes you think he’d forget his head if it weren’t secured to his body. “We call almost every day!”

“Yeah, but you usually call me late at night!” He defends himself, “I don’t normally leave my room that late at night, so you never see them!”

You shake your head in disbelief at this, faux disappointment at your fiancé for keeping this interest of his hidden for so long, “When I visit you in Rome, you have to show me these plants, deal?”

He nods in approval at that arrangement, a small smile creeping onto his face as he takes the next card off the deck, “Have you pretended to like a gift I gave you when you actually didn’t?”

You consider reaching for the Sake but reel your hand back at the last second, deciding to tell him straight up.

“Yeah, the lingerie you sent me a few months ago.”

“You didn’t like it?”

Tobio’s mouth hangs open, visibly swallowing his shame away as he sets the question card down on the table, a hand running through his hair in deep thought.

“Okay well, didn’t like isn’t the right word per se—”

“Was it the style?” Tobio begins interrogating you sternly, brows furrowed and that determined look in his eyes you’re so familiar with while watching his volleyball matches.

“Was it the colour, or was it too flimsy? I tried going to a new store that time, I knew I should’ve just stuck to the other one—”

“Tobio!”

He’s immediately brought out of his thoughts by your cackles, blinking as he’s focused on your laughing figure in front of him. His cheeks are tinted a dark shade of red, thinking he’s said something embarrassing when he whispers a low, “Yes, love?”

Through fits of giggles and laughter, you barely manage to sputter out, “It was just the wrong size, babe!”

Tobio’s eyes widen significantly at the reveal, looking down at his hands where his engagement ring sits comfortably in his ring finger, feeling his body shrink in on itself further into his seat while you’re howling across from him.

If you were seated beside each other he’s sure you’d be slapping his arm too for good measure.

“C-can we move onto the next question…” He mumbles just above the microphone strapped to his dress shirt’s minimum level to pick up sounds. If his old highschool teammates were here— if Hinata were here, god, he’d never hear the end of it. “Please?”

Finally settling down from your giggly high, you vaguely nod, still catching your breath when you reach for the next question card on the pile and flip it over as Tobio tries his best to calm down his reddened face.

“What is the most romantic thing your partner has ever done for you?”

After Tobio’s managed to relax himself, he thinks the question over, chin in hand as his gaze lands directly on the Sake bottle on the table beside him where he gets lost in thought while mulling over the question.

“I think…” he mutters to himself, “When you told me it was okay to go play in Ali Roma, instead of discouraging me to stay in Japan.”

His answer legitimately surprises you, “Is that, really your response, Tobio?”

He nods, hands reaching up to the nape of his neck. “Yeah… I don’t know if romantic is the right word, I guess.“

“But knowing you were there to support me; even if I could tell you were scared for me going overseas, it felt like the most romantic gesture someone could ever do to me.”

Tobio blinks, suddenly remembering his words are being broadcasted on national T.V and coughing awkwardly, “Uh, yeah, that’s my answer.”

He begins to notice the gazes of the rest of the film crew and director that are burning right through him, feeling the colour returning to his cheeks.

Tobio looks over to you anxiously, finding you with the brighest eyes he’s ever seen, he could get lost in them if he stared into them long enough. You purse your lips for a moment, before a smile blossoms across your face.

“Wow, Tobio,” you breathe out dreamily, “That was… so sweet of you to say,” Tobio has a hard time meeting your gaze, you can tell he’s still feeling anxious so you grab his hand and force him to look you in the eye.

“I will always support you, okay?” You tell him firmly, he’s a bit startled at how forward you’re being but nods before you quickly add, “Even if I don’t like being so far away from you, you don’t need to worry about me. Don’t be so nervous about this, alright?”

Tobio’s lips quiver into a strained frown before he sighs, “It’s not that simple,” you feel his hand give yours a light squeeze for comfort, interlocking his fingers with your own. “I wish I could just… not be so worried for you. But I love you too much for that.”

“Loving me means you understand that no matter what, I am right behind you,” you voice to him directly. “Maybe not physically, but no matter where you go, I will follow eventually.”

Tobio goes silent for a few seconds, even when he knows dozens of people in this studio— hundreds of thousands are watching him live, he’s only looking at you; having eyes only for you. With a shaky nod of his head, he finally manages to crack a smile.

“I understand.”

Releasing your hand from his grip, he pulls his next question for you from the pile, looking far more relaxed than he did at the beginning of your game. He’s comfortable in this stage of your relationship, even if he knows that others think it’s strange— the distance between you two, the long engagement period.

He knows the only opinion that should matter to him—that does matter to him is yours alone.

“When you hear my name in public, what comes to your mind?”

“That you have done another amazing set,” You answer with ease, allowing yourself to feed his ego for once. “Or won another game, who knows at this point? You can do it all.”

Tobio seems satisfied with that answer, even uncharacteristically relishing in your praise. “Ah, I am pretty good at volleyball, aren’t I?”

You lean over the table to punch his shoulder lightly, a teasing grin dances on your lips which matches his own, “Yeah yeah, you’re welcome for being so supportive of my fiancé.”

“Well thank you then, love.”

One of the camera crew’s members motions to the director, indicating it’s almost time to wrap up the broadcast. Feeling at peace, you grab the final card of the question deck, eyes flickering to Tobio as you read.

“Anything else you’d like to say to me about our engagement?”

Tobio takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he speaks. He wants to make sure he tells you everything on his mind, but maybe that will have to wait for another time— a more private time.

One that isn’t being broadcasted on national television. So he’ll settle for the next best course.

“I just wanted to say…” He hesitates for a moment, his mouth opening and closing at times until he can find his bearings. “That being engaged to you has taught me a lot of things.”

You’re about to say something in response until he holds his hand up, indicating he isn’t done yet.

“And… I wouldn’t mind if we stayed like this forever.”

Tobio notices the slight look of confusion in your eyes as he continues, “Wh-what I mean is, uh… even though we aren’t married yet, you make me so happy that I feel like I could be okay with what we have.”

“I still want to marry you!” He blurts out worriedly in an attempt to explain himself, “But knowing you’re not bothered by how long we’re engaged for is enough to reassure me that no matter how long we wait for, I’ll still be as happy as the day we marry.”

Tobio shuts his eyes, burying his head in his hands from sheer embarrassment, “Fuck, that was so stupid sounding-”

“Hey now..” You pry his hands away from his face with a pout, leaning across the table’s surface to cup his cheek, “That wasn’t stupid, that was sweet!”

“Really?” He asks, unsure if he believes you, “I’m not really good with my words, y’know.”

“Well I understood what you meant,” you smile, pressing a kiss to your ring finger and placing it on your fiancé’s lips, “And I feel the same way.”

Tobio’s face erupts into a bright scarlet red as you pour the two of you a shot of Sake each, downing them together with your rings on prominent display for all of Japan to see.

Your fiancé is still quite popular in Japan despite now playing overseas, overhearing the NHK film crew and the thousands of viewers who tuned in were watching his broadcast with you while dying in laughter.

It’s not laughter to mock him however— as he soon finds out when after the cameras cut and he can still hear the staff talking about how adorable he looked during the live special.

And his old highschool friends blowing up his phone, sending him clips of his broadcast with hearts and kissy face emojis, but you swear to him that it’s all well intentioned. Maybe not Tsukishima’s to some extent, but nontheless.

All Tobio knows he can do is sigh, turn his phone off and settle into your arms after everything’s been said and done. His time in Japan is limited after all, he has to fly back to Italy in a few days time.

He knows it hurts to leave you again, and you hate sending him off at the airport. He wishes he could marry you immediately— but there’s still so much to be done until that day can arrive.

Tobio doesn’t know when the lucky day will come when you can instead wear a wedding ring on your finger rather than an engagement ring, but as Tobio has discovered today; the two of you will be okay until then despite it all.

It takes a lot to make Tobio anxious about your engagement, but it also takes a lot to shake the strong foundation the two of you have built with each other over the years.

The two of you have planned your future with each other as the main component of it all in the centre of it for as long as you can remember, and he’s prepared to withstand any obstacles that threaten his happiness with you.

Tobio is at ease knowing you have his back, and he has yours even while separated by thousands of miles of stretching oceans and ground.

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

© property of shoyostar 2023. all rights reserved.

[chaepink]

Embarassing... | sub!kenma kozume

wc: 460+ words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, dry humping, teasing

note : i feel like this isn't that good cause I didn't know how to end it

"S-stop its embarrassing." You smile at the red boy who was trying to cover his face with his hands.

"Aw baby, what's embarrassing? The fact that you're rutting on my thigh like a bitch in heat or the fact that we're doing this in the locker room where anyone can walk in and see us? Oh! Or is it that you're clearly hard from that tent in your pants?" You say, in feigned confusion, watching the poor boy turn even redder from your teasing and vulgar words.

He whines as you giggle. It was so easy to tease the guy and you almost felt bad. Almost.

"Come on, use your words and tell me." With a thigh between his legs that kept on moving, your hands tightly gripping his waist, and his back to the lockers, it was like he was trapped. With no idea how to get out of the situation, he peeks through his hands but quickly closes them again right as he saw the domineering look on your face.

"E-everything," he sputters, hands still covering his face. "Everything?" You raise an eyebrow. "Really? Then why are you so hard? And don't think I haven't noticed you speed up, don't you dare cum without permission." You say the last part with such strictness, it makes Kenma even hornier if that was even possible.

A whimper leaves him as he slows down. He's about to open his mouth to beg until footsteps are heard outside the door.

"Kenma? Are you still in the locker room? It's been 10 minutes."

You abruptly stop and look at the door, making Kenma whine from the abrupt stop of pleasure. Right as he starts to reply, an idea sparks in your head and you quickly move his hips against your thigh, in a sharp, rapid motion.

'Yeah i'm- hmph!" He tries to send you a glare but you can't help but giggle quietly because the glare doesn't look menacing at all. It really just looks as if he's pleading for you to stop. "Just looking for my ah- m-my water bottle!"

"Oh okay well be quick, practice is about to start." You hear the footsteps leave and you grin at Kenma.

"You know what actually? Let's finish this up quickly so we can finish this at home."

"B-but what about practice?" You coo at your boyfriend. He really does love volleyball if he's worried about skipping practice right when he's humping your thigh.

"Kenma, baby." Your boyfriend blushes at the sudden pet name.

"You won't be able to walk for a while when I deal with you at home plus they'll see us leave the locker room and guess exactly what happened in here. So let's get out of here while we can, okay?"

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[ac3ifix]

womp womp

womp womp because people can’t add one simple tag with the words ‘fem reader’? honestly you’re super immature. also the fact that you turned anon on just to say this is utterly insane to me, if youre gonna insult someone say that shit with ur whole chest, otherwise its just embarrassing.

[fiorella-a]

Goodluck kiss!

Kenma Kozume x GN! reader

Concept

-Your boyfriend is pretty nervous before the match starts, so you give him a quick peck to start his day.

A/N: Hey! I've been gone for a while. I didn't really know what to write as I got busy in my personal life:) I am gonna watch the dumpster battle movie soon, I wrote this to celebrate!

Kenma looked at their opponents and shivered.

"At least tell me that you're ready." Yaku says to him as Kuroo puts his hand on Kenma's shoulder.

Kenma shrugged and furrowed his eyebrows, "I don't really know." He says.

Then Yaku replied, "Lev called acquaintance." He smiles proudly as Kenma looks at him– judging.

Whoosh! A few seconds in and you're at the stadium, waving at him. You head over to their team and bowed to their coach before smiling at the other members, and finally making your way to Kenma.

You nod at Yaku and Kuroo before they make space for you and your boyfriend.

"Hey!" You greet him enthusiastically.

"Hi" He replied, looking away then back into your eyes.

"Goodluck, okay? Didn't skip school for your attitude, mister!" You say to him sarcastically, as you gently held his hands and kissed the back of it.

He smiled slightly at the gesture, "Thanks." He says, as the game now begins.

[takes1]

one night stand aftermath with needy!tsukishima

semi-drabble i just rlly liked the sound of. i wanna write more for this, still debating how i wanna actually write the smut for it

warnings. implicit nsfw. minors DNI

info. fem!reader / one night stand aftermath / no cuddling / needy!tsukki / miscommunication / future smut / future fluff / timeskip!tsukki / reader with trust issues kinda / 408 words / reply to be added to taglist for part 2!

haikyuu collection. part two here.

more links. masterlist. my ao3. requests open

Tsukishima was still swimming in his residual post-orgasm paradise when you were feeling around for your top in his tangled sheets.

His hand left his stomach to make room for your body next to his. It was stuffed behind his cold, silk pillowcase.

It didn't seem odd to him when you began to put some clothes back on- he understood it wasn't his privilege to ask about any potential insecurities, or start any hard conversation after just meeting you and fucking your brains out.

You were adjusting your tits back in place when he asked, eyes closed, "You want some water?"

"Oh- no thanks," You chuckled, a little put off by his concern.

It made him open an eye to try to decipher your stilted tone. He saw you reach for your heels and his stomach flexed with an instinct he didn't know he harbored.

Of course, you were doing everything in your power to not look at him, so you didn't see his funny half-sit-up to his elbows, or the twist of his brow when you checked your watch.

"You're leaving?"

It came out a little less cool than he wanted. It obviously didn't land well-- he pulled the sheets up, pissed that he sounded so desperate, over his hips when you spared a subtle, shocked look in his direction.

"Yeah?" Was another polite laugh from your lips.

Was it some kind of inside joke? Was he missing something? It left him more embarrassed, since it only hurried the collection of your miscellaneous belongings.

Instead of taking time to put them where they belonged in the pockets, you just shoved your jewelry inside in one big clump.

He knew he made it more difficult, more uncomfortable, by expecting more from a stranger he met at the club.

But he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it when his heart felt like it had been replaced by a lead block. Sheets clutched between his fingers, he stared down and away when you closed the distance between yourself and the door.

A pause, just as your hand hit the handle.

"This was really fun," You said, incredibly too soft, too sweet.

He chose not to look at you. You took it as a sign to leave.

The door clicked to a quiet shut. He slid back down and covered his burning face with his hands, sick to his stomach at how badly he still needed you.

taglist.

none! reply to be added.

masterlist.

[lale-txt]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟖: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐩?

♫ Bleachers - Self Respect

I'm on my hands and knees begging you to kiss me When I'm not around, do you even miss me? I'm so tired of having self-respect Let's do something I'll regret

⭅ back to m.list

•┈••✦ 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐩…

y/n on the verge of a mental breakdown: maybe making some kind of list would fix me...

y/n showered before Osamu and was genuinely impressed that he does NOT use 12-in-1 body wash but proper high brand products

of course she went through every bathroom cabinet

and each kitchen cabinet afterwards

this was all after she stood frozen for like five minutes in the hallway after Akaashi's text

Osamu gave her the tour through the apartment, they took one glance at the bed together and y/n was like "absolutely not" and insisted on the couch

not because the bed looked unappealing (quite the opposite) but because she saw herself never getting up ever again once she slipped under the covers

and because she doesn't trust her 2AM soju self

4AM soju self however...

Yukie, Makki & Sunarin had definitely more than just a bottle of soju

Makki multitasking king (carrying Yukie over his shoulder out of the club so the bouncer doesn't while simultaneously making sure y/n is getting her pep talk)

Osamu already ate like half of the cake hunched over the kitchen sink (so he doesn't have to use a plate)

y/n definitely checked him out while he did and thought of peach recipes

Osamu was not able to focus on anything while y/n was in the shower. just sat there head in his hands and trying to keep his composure, poor guy

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@brithedemonspawn @gigiiiiislife @yuminako @notverymarley @krissiekris

@wyrcan @kentocalls @simp-simp-no-mi @uncovered-mad-man @honey-deku

@yukichan67 @dailyakira @nu-suave @zq13 @morgan-lowell

@ellouisa17 @toges-cough-syrup @lovingjeankirstein @itsdragonius @bakingcuriosity

@nekomasmngr @spacekedi

taglist open! dm/ask/comment to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[topzsun]

BUTTERFLY EFFECT

── ♡ TOBIO KAGEYAMA

❝ very few can proudly say there are happy with the choices they made that led them to this point. ❞

Your mother always used to say that life revolved around a series of small decisions that escalated into greater things. Your father would argue life is all about coincidences and accidents. You didn’t particularly care for what life is, you just wished you could have a family dinner without meaningless philosophical debates disturbing the table.

Unfortunately, these arguments will resurface in your mind when you are older, standing like a statue as Miwa Kageyama introduced you to her younger brother, the Adonis of Schweiden Adlers, Tobio Kageyama. You try to ponder what decisions and coincidences had led you to pursue hairdressing and have Miwa as your mentor.

“You’ll be attempting your cut on him. It’s a small trim, so there isn’t anything to worry about,” The latter part of her statement seemed to be spoken more towards her sibling, who to his credit, didn’t look too phased about who exactly was going to be holding the scissors to his head. She had whispered to you beforehand that Tobio could have cared less if a monkey was cutting his hair, as long as his hair was “short”. You don’t think it eased your nerves much.

He takes a seat and you drape the gown over his form, fingers trembling as you fasten the velcro. This action that you have done a thousand times before suddenly feels scandalous when it comes to the raven-haired man.

“So did you just want to trim your bangs, and clean up the sides?” You ask. He nods, and you take a quick breath before beginning. Unlike your other clients, the younger Kageyama sits still and silent, his gaze focused on the mirror as you carefully snip at split ends and unwanted hair. The snapping of your scissors is all that fills the empty salon, and you are vaguely aware even Miwa has left for her office, likely having more important things to do than watch your painstaking trimming process.

The moment you finished couldn’t have come sooner, and you step aside to let him have a full view of the finished product.

“Is it alright? Anything you need me to fix up?” You ask cautiously, breath halted as he leans closer to the mirror, lightly brushing his slender fingers against his hand. The lack of change in his expression only worsens your anxiety, until he leans back and simply nods.

“It’s good. Thank you,” For the first time since he arrived, he looks a little shy as you smile widely, and go to unfasten his gown. Within that moment, Miwa walks in from the back room, walking over to appraise your craftsmanship.

“It’s perfect, exactly how I usually cut it,” She compliments, and she turns to her brother with a faint teasing smile on her lips. “Looks like you know who to ask for when I’m too busy.”

You could faint when he simply tilts his head in agreement.

“Congratulations on your match,” You speak through pursed lips, focused on fixing up the back of his hair that has grown over the weeks he had been preoccupied with training. “It was super intense just watching it from the TV. That last rally had me on the edge of my couch.”

“Thanks,” Tobio responds, “It went on longer than I expected it to.”

Over the past year that you have uprooted Miwa from her spot as Tobio’s hairdresser, the excitement of seeing your celebrity crush had dulled, along with your initial nerves. You never would have expected you’d be able to make such casual conversation with the volleyball player while doing something as mundane as cutting hair. With your growing extroversion, Tobio had also begun giving more lengthy responses to your attempts at conversation, and you realise he’s not nearly as intimidating as he seemed on the court and in the media. He was just blunt, almost to a fault, and it reminded you of how Miwa had been when you first began apprenticing under her. The two apples didn’t fall far away from each other.

“You’re playing against MSBY Black Jackals next, right?” You hum, taking a spray bottle as you begin moving on to the next section of hair. “They say that new wing spiker is debuting that match. They called him… Ninja Shoyo I believe?”

While you were positioned behind him, your eyes lifted to the reflection of the mirror, giving you pause when you saw a smug smile stretched across the man’s lips. You think it's criminal how attractive he looks, even if it’s just his competitive side sparking up. You’d like to see that expression on him more.

“Yeah, and we’re going to win,” He says it like a promise, and you whistle lowly, unable to bite back your smile.

“Well, when you say it like that, I’ve got no choice but to root for you, huh?” Your aching shoulders sag in relief when you finish up his trim, Tobio being your last appointment for the day. You remove the gown from around his shoulders with a dramatic flair. “I’ll make sure to tune in.”

There is a sudden lull in conversation where Tobio’s usual “Thanks, see you” would be. You almost call his name in worry when he doesn’t move from the revolving seat until he beats you to the punch.

“You should watch the match in person,” He states resolutely, and you’re taken aback by his sudden proposition. You break into a nervous chuckle, despite how his stare is set firmly on you, and you try to distract yourself by sweeping up the stray hairs on the wooden floor.

“I would, but I’m sure tickets are already sold out by now, no?” You keep your gaze on the floor, your grip around the broom tightening.

“Don’t worry about it,” He counters immediately. “I’ll send you one.”

You lift your head, midnight eyes refusing to leave your figure. Does he even realise the effect he has on you?

“Okay, then I definitely can’t say no,” You offer him a strained smile and you watch him perk up almost instantly.

“Right, uh, that’s good,” As if finally gaining awareness of where he is, he shifts his weight on his other foot. “I’ll see you then.”

He leaves like he entered, in a whirlwind, and even busying yourself with the menial task of cleaning barely distracts you from Tobio, his eyes, and the excitement in them when you had said yes. Amidst your flustered musing, Miwa takes it as her cue to stroll back into the studio, and you’re filled with uncertainty when you find the corner of her lips quirked upwards slyly.

“Lucky you, huh? He must have really wanted you to watch him play,” What she says next makes your heart drop to your stomach. “He doesn’t even invite me to his matches.”

Tobio Kageyama will be the death of you.