kiyoors

[kiyoors]

which of your favs??

[kiyoors]

sleepy morning sex with karasu and his raspy, sleep rough accent (he can't stop groaning about how hot and soft and sensitive you are).

[kiyoors]

"issei?"

matsukawa looks away from the television and down into his lap, where you're currently half asleep with your head pillowed on his right thigh.

his flannel shirt rests over you like a blanket, and you tiredly curl your fingers against the soft, dark green material, enjoying the way the scent of his cologne lingers on it.

you blink up at your roommate, at his dark, tousled curls, at the fond way he's smiling down at you as he waits for you to continue.

"i'm going to miss stealing your shirts and falling asleep on you and drooling on your pants."

you laugh as you say it, but there's a twinge in your heart that's been aching for days.

his brows furrow, his handsome features twisting in confusion. "what, am i dying or something?"

"well, no, but..." you trail off, and he waits.

"but..."

"your ex stopped by last week."

he makes a face. "she did."

your chest hurts.

you've been roommates with matsukawa for three years, since he moved into the second bedroom in your apartment when your roommate left for grad school. he couldn't afford the place he'd been renting with his ex on a single income, so it worked in your favor and his.

and while you were good friends before, since high school, you've grown inexplicably closer since.

closer in a way that makes your next words stick to the back of your throat and the valley of your tongue like solidified honey.

"and now that she's moved back to miyagi, well...i know the whole reason she broke up with you was because she was leaving. and i'm sure now she wants to get back toge—"

"that's not why we broke up," he interrupts you.

"it's not?"

"i broke up with her."

this time, you're the one with a face that's twisting in confusion.

"she did show up here the other day because she wanted to get back together. i don't even know how she got this address. but i've been ignoring all of her texts and calls for weeks."

oh.

"but i told her i don't want to get back together."

what?

"why?" you breathe out, heart thudding oddly in your chest.

matsukawa looks up at the ceiling for a moment, breathing in through his nose slowly, like he's thinking about his next words carefully.

when he glances back down at you, there's an expression on his face that you can't quite read, one that leaves you feeling dizzy and warm.

"i guess i realized that maybe i don't really like thinking about you stealing some other guy's shirts and falling asleep in some other guy's lap."

[kiyoors]

dating atsumu when the olympic team roster gets revealed, so you post it on your social media with the caption “so happy our country got the #1 setter to represent us! and so happy that atsumu was given the opportunity to warm the bench for him!! play well, kageyama!!”

[kiyoors]

"are they lovers?"

worse. it's a sports anime

[kiyoors]

Just a teacher leading his students to be the new generation of sorcerers ✨

[kiyoors]

meet cute with iwaizumi hajime athletic trainer except it’s less cute and more him nearly bursting a blood vessel while he’s in line waiting to order a coffee watching you (a barista) try to lift a stack of heavy boxes in the most back-ruining way known to man.

[kiyoors]

thinking about a meet-cute with kuroo😭

-💋

kuroo's told the higher ups at the jva time and time again that he doesn't need an assistant.

he's perfectly capable of keeping track of his own meetings on a hastily scribbled calendar that hangs lopsided on the wall beside his desk and sifting through the perpetually messy stack of files that sits unsorted atop his filing cabinet.

he can answer his own phone.

he can get his own damn coffee on his way to the office like an adult.

it's fine.

he doesn't want an assistant.

really.

he doesn't need someone trying to keep him on track, forcing his schedule into a neat, tidy line and micro-managing his sometimes baffling work habits into some sensible little box.

no thanks.

which is why he's ten shades of exasperated when his boss pops into his office one morning to tell him they hired one anyway, and they'll be arriving in forty-five minutes.

kuroo waffles over it in annoyance for long enough that the moment he swings open his door to go track down his boss, he nearly runs into the person standing on the other side of it—you.

you let out a little yelp of surprise, and kuroo's hands immediately shoot out to steady you by the shoulders.

he lets go quickly, taking a step back.

but even the modicum of distance does nothing to soften the blow of the way his heart pounds in his chest for no reason at all when he gets a good look at you.

"sorry, sorry! i didn't see any meetings on your schedule for this morning—" you quickly try to apologize, as if him fleeing out the door like an idiot was somehow your fault.

he blinks at you, and he feels a prickle of warmth spread across the back of his neck.

okay.

maybe—

maybe he can try this whole assistant thing.

kuroo smiles. "no, no. i was uh...you're—you're fine."

you smile back.

[kiyoors]

battle of wills

Sae wants to act funny, but he doesn’t know you’re about to act hilarious.

wc — 2.7k

tags — romantic mind games, thinking of Sae like a predator that plays with his food, jealousy, possessiveness

“I don’t care who you fuck,” he says with a shrug. “We’re not dating.” 

Your hands still on the collar of his shirt that you’re smoothing down. It’s ten minutes before your dinner reservation, which means you’re going to be late, but you know the maître d' so it should be fine. It would be, if Sae didn’t insist on opening his fat mouth once a week to try to break your heart so he can prove to himself that he’s not invested. 

He’s not fooling anyone. You know you have him, hook, line, and sinker. When you made that joke about getting Kaiser’s number, it was just a joke. You didn’t even say you wanted to sleep with him! Sae came up with that implication all by himself. 

You have three options and only a few seconds to decide. Sweat beads on your forehead. You can practically see the timer run out, like an imaginary game with a big fat red buzzer letting you know you failed.

You can: 

a) say “we’re not dating?” in a whiny little broken voice and make it obvious you liked Sae more than he liked you 

b) sit in silence and make it awkward like you are currently doing 

c) fuck around and find out

So you only have one option, really. You’re not a coward, so it can’t be b, and you’d rather choke on your fancy steak tonight and die then ever let a man think he played you and got away with it. 

“Cool,” you say. “I’ll let Kaiser know he has your permission.” 

You’re joking, but you don’t think he is. 

“Cool,” Sae replies, but he’s so disinterested that you think he didn’t even hear the last half of your sentence. 

Dinner is great even though Sae is an asshole because he somehow still makes it fun to be with him. Your friends all ask you why you want him. They don’t see what you see; they think you’re just after the football fame, the fortune, the model like beauty. 

You’re a little more twisted than that. 

When you press your patent heel up against Sae’s calf, he doesn’t even flinch. He takes a long, slow draught of water - because he doesn’t drink alcohol, which is deliriously sexy to you for some reason - and raises an eyebrow at you. Everything about him is cool and collected, even when you inch higher and higher until you’re practically right between his legs. 

His hand slips under the table, grabs your ankle, and repositions it on his lap. He doesn’t spare a thought for how your dirty shoes are on his nice slacks. When you try to retract your foot because this is dangerous, this is not what you expected, his hand locks you in place. 

He holds your eye across the table. You wanted this, his eye contact says. Be good and take it. 

Sae is hard to read. 

He can be so apathetic, so indifferent to your words, and then draw warm, lazy circles on your pulse with his thumb. He looks mildly amused when your brain short circuits in the middle of your sentence, every neuron redirected to the feeling of his hand on your ankle, soaking in heat from his palm. 

You want to pull him apart and see what makes him tick. For you, love is almost like dissection. You want to be able to know him so intimately no one else will ever be able to say they come close. 

Although he apparently doesn’t feel the same about you. 

Knowing Sae is a rare privilege all in itself. You thought you were content. When you first met him, that’s all it was: fun. You liked pulling him apart and putting him back together, figuring out which parts of Sae were real and which were a front. But now, after a few months, you’re hooked. It’s become more than a game. It’s an addiction. 

The more he rejects you, the more you want him. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this pathetic in your life. You’ve never chased anyone the way you’ve done for him. 

It’s killing you to think about the numbers he’s done on your reputation. Your friends already think you’re whipped. 

You’re afraid to admit they’re right, and that’s the real reason you’re upset about what he said earlier. You never thought you were dating but you thought - 

Ugh. You don’t know why you expected him to care. 

Sae is, if an asshole, also a gentleman, so he pays for dinner and sends you home in an Uber on his card. 

You smile pleasantly until you get into the car and then you’re practically tearing your hair out. You need to make him regret this. 

So obviously the question now is who would make Sae the sickest to find out you got with? Who would have that man holding his stomach in tears? 

Shidou is too obvious and also you doubt that Sae would care. In a funny way, Shidou is the least you can do to him. 

Oliver? No, he’s too much of a slut. This needs to be a hit and run, an attack, but targeted. Aiku is just too easy to make Sae feel anything besides mild annoyance that you fucked his captain. 

You’d have to butter Kaiser up before you even got near him, and besides, Sae didn’t even react when you brought him up earlier. 

Your brain flinches away from Rin’s face when it pops up in your brain like you touched a hot stove, a solid rejection you don’t even have to think about. 

No. 

It hurts too much. You’re angry but you still care about Sae. This is- 

You want to piss him off, not hurt him irrevocably. Dating Rin right after not-dating him would be something the two of you couldn’t come back from. 

Even if Sae likes to pretend he’s not sensitive when it comes to his little brother, you know better. 

Back to the drawing board. 

The most important part is that Sae can’t know you’re trying to make him jealous, so it has to come up organically. You’re aiming for a teammate because you need someone who will talk about it in Sae’s locker room, someone who can get it to Sae without making it too obvious. 

All paths lead to Oliver Aiku. 

Unfortunately. 

You don’t even know if this is going to work. 

“Just so you know,” you tell him, “you weren’t my first choice.”

“Aw, why?” He asks. “You don’t think I’ll get Sae mad enough?” 

“Are you kidding me? If anything, he’s going to think I’ve lowered my standards! He’s not going to regret losing me, he’s going to think that I’m so pathetic his little rejection sent me off the deep end!” 

“But then he’ll be right,” Oliver says. “Considering he did lower your standards and send you off the deep end. You’re standing in my living room right now, aren’t you?” 

You squint at him. “And I can walk right back out, so don’t test me.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Oliver purrs. “I’m great at making men jealous.” 

“I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of.” 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I’m going to take you somewhere your man couldn’t even dream of taking you.” 

“Oliver, this is a Wendy’s.” 

“Sae would never dream of taking you here,” he shrugs. “Wow, good bite! You’re great at eating.” 

“Okay, one, that’s a weird thing to say, and two, I’m going to go find someone else if you can’t help me. I know you can’t help yourself but since I’m your friend, I thought at the very least, you would try not to waste my time.” 

“Yeesh, calm down-“ 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” 

“My bad,” he says cheerfully. “Trust me, I have a plan.” 

“I don’t trust you,” you say pointedly, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He ignores you. “What makes a man angrier than thinking you moved on?” 

“Moving on with his rival?” 

“Close. Thinking he never had you. See, Sae takes you on these fancy dates to high end restaurants and museums and what not. But you know how he is. He’s with you but he’s not really with you. You gotta beat him at his own game. Let him think that you were just indulging him when really this is what you want.” He scoots his chair closer to you until you can practically feel the warmth of him radiating through his thin shirt. His cologne smells like jasmine, a strangely delicate scent for him. “Make him feel like he never really knew you, because I’m the one who does.” 

You breathe in the scent of his feminine cologne, stalling. It would be so easy to listen to Oliver. It would be so easy to let him in your heart. He knows what to say and when to say it. 

In a way, he does know you. 

Familiarity is unavoidable with time, and you’ve been friends of circumstance for ages. 

“You just wanted an excuse to take me to Wendy’s,” you say with a fake laugh that is so perfected, you can only pick up the stilted quality of it if you really, really listen. 

He pulls out of your space a little, a smile playing on his lips. “You know me so well. That too.” 

Oliver knows you a little too well. He says the right things at the right times because he’s telling you what you want to hear. 

Are you destined to be toyed with by beautiful football players? 

In the car on the way back to your house, Oliver texts you. “Get him back for me, playa.”  

In the locker room, Oliver doesn’t start the conversation because that would be too obvious. He’s a respectful man, he doesn’t kiss and tell. It would be out of character for him to start bringing up last night’s exploits and Sae would catch on instantaneously. 

He waits until Sendou, not subtly, tries to ask him who that pretty girl he posted last night was. 

“Are you sure that was a girl? Aiku never posts who he’s with. It was probably his sister.” 

Oliver doesn’t see who said that, but he doesn’t take offense. Again, he doesn’t kiss and tell. Whoever he’s with is a secret. 

He lets them simmer for a little bit more before he casually drops your name, saying it was just a friendly meal. Out of the corner of his eye, Sae stops putting on his shirt. 

“I’ll say,” Sendou says. “You took her to Wendy’s? That’s foul even for you.” 

“Maybe she likes Wendy’s,” Aiku says. “You don’t know her.” 

Although that last part isn’t really directed at Sendou. 

It’s rare for Sae to willingly open social media, but here he is, scrolling through Oliver’s story. Your face is never in any of the pictures, but he can tell. You’re- 

His brain stutters to a halt. 

You’re wearing the necklace he bought you on a date with another man.

There’s only one picture left in Oliver’s stories from last night, but of course that demon would’ve saved the best for last. It’s a simple shot. You’re sitting outside somewhere, under the stars. His hand is holding yours from across the table, your arm stretched out towards him. It’s the only one with a sliver of your face in it, the edge of a sweet, tender smile. 

Sae doesn’t fight. He’s not the type. But over you? 

He fights the only way he knows how. Through football. 

When Sae calls you after practice, you fumble your phone so hard it drops out of your hands and into the sink. You had fun with Oliver last night, but deep down, you didn’t really think Sae would care, as much as you wanted him to. It’s just the way he is. 

By the time you fish your phone out, it’s making strange noises and unable to return Sae’s call. You don’t feel like going out today after your wild night - crying onto Aiku’s shoulder through mouthfuls of French fries - so you resolve to pick a new one up tomorrow. 

Sae will wait. He’s very patient. 

Sae shows up on your doorstep within thirty minutes of your denied call. He lives twenty minutes away, if he speeds. 

Now he’s sitting in your living room, drinking water from your favorite mug while you squirm uncomfortably. He, on the other hand, seems content to sit in silence. 

“You hung out with Aiku last night,” he says. 

Now that he’s actually in the room, you feel like you did something wrong. It’s insane how much influence Sae has over you. He hurt you, but retaliation somehow feels like getting caught with your hand in a cookie jar. 

“Yes,” you mumble. 

“Hm? Speak up.” 

“So what if I did?” 

Sae raises an eyebrow. “Nothing. I don’t mind who you hang out with.” 

“Fine,” you say. “Guess I’ll hang out with him again. Since you don’t care.” 

His mouth curls into a smile behind his mug. That motherfucker. It’s ticking you off. He’s so in control of himself, so smug and pleased and - 

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” 

“You know, since you care so much- huh?” 

“Do you want to start dating?” He rephrases patiently. 

You stammer for a bit before you’re able to reply coherently. “I thought you didn’t want to.” 

“Did I say that?” 

“Yes,” you hiss. “You made it very clear.” 

“I don’t remember saying that,” he says and sets his mug down. When he stands, terror rises in you. He’s coming over. He’s sitting back on his haunches in front of you on the couch, eye to eye. “I just said that we weren’t dating. But I’d like to.” 

“You only want me because I was with another man,” you say faintly. You’re trying to act cute, playful, but you’re not sure it’s working. There’s not enough blood going to your brain. 

“You want me to beg, don’t you?” 

You can’t deny how excited that makes you. Part of it is the way he says it, his voice slow and measured, deepening near the end. Part of it is just hearing ‘beg’ come out of Sae’s mouth. 

“Okay, then. You don’t like Wendy’s.” 

God, you hate men. Who cares about Wendy’s? Why do they always argue about this? Oliver and Sae both-

“You like the places we go. You like,” he tugs lightly on your necklace in a way that stops just shy of stinging. “The way I spoil you.” He pushes you back onto the couch and leans over you. “You like the way I know,” his nose brushes over the carotid artery in your neck, “what makes you feel good.” 

“So I can beg if you want me to.” He’s all in your space, filling it up. All you can smell and feel and see is Sae. You feel paralyzed by his eyes. Devoured whole. “I can get on my knees for you and let you put a leash around my neck and promise that you can have anything you want from me. But let’s not pretend that you want anyone else but me.” 

Okay. So maybe you do care about Wendy’s. 

“Aiku thinks he knows you,” Sae says, his voice calm and easy. It’s like he’s laying out a mathematical formula instead of confessing his love, but it’s so Sae. “He doesn’t. I know you.” 

You whimper. 

Sae laughs dryly. 

You don’t sleep in your own bed that night. Sae drives you both back to his apartment, insists on brushing your teeth for you with the toothbrush he bought for you, and does your skincare routine before he tucks you into bed. 

You’re half asleep when he says, “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” 

“Huh?” You mumble, facedown in his pillow. It smells like him. 

Sae leans over so he can kiss your forehead. When he whispers, it’s directly in your ear. “You think you tied me down, huh?” 

You’re wide awake now. “Obviously,” you snap back, annoyed that he’s still trying to play these games. You know he’s not indifferent to you, you just wish he would- 

“No, dear,” Sae says. The pet name sends chills down your spine. “I trapped you.” 

[kiyoors]

meet cute with oliver where ubers plays a friendly coed game with your women’s football team for charity.

(it’s 90 minutes of him trying not to get a boner every time you break through his defensive tactics with a smirk and score.)

[kiyoors]

he actually my lil princess

[kiyoors]

everyone tell me about your most obscure blorbos whomst you desire carnally but who you never talk about because you think who cares. i want to hear about them

[kiyoors]

thinking about your roommate constantly having guys over, and you’re trying to be really chill because you don’t have an issue with her or anything AND she’s the reason why you have such an amazing apartment. the only issue is, you soon realize that she’s in a relationship and it’s with character, who’s genuinely a really nice guy, and listen, you didn’t know she was a dirty cheater. and he obviously doesn’t either. so now you have a moral dilemma: if you snitch, you definitely will endure some awkwardness and may have to move out and you really don’t want to. if you don’t snitch, this genuinely sweet guy will continue to be getting screwed over.

so what do you do? like any other modern woman, you turn to reddit for advice. the consensus is all the same; you need to tell him. so, you do, he’s totally crushed, and you’re kicked out. with no place left to go, you have no idea what you’re going to do. but because he feels guilty that he’s kind of (definitely!) the reason you’re out of a place to stay, he asks you if you want to crash at his place for a while.

now you’re roommates with your ex-roommate’s ex-boyfriend. great. the thing is, the more time you two spend together, the less you understand why she would ever cheat on him. except, it's not like you can make a move on him or anything! he's fresh out of a long-time relationship and probably needs some time to heal. and wouldn't it be so awkward if you got rejected by him? you still don't have any other backup places to stay.

or: strangers to friends to lovers AND they were roommates <3 mutual pining <33 forced proximity <333 one day the heat goes out and it's cold, so he suggests you two share a bed <3333

[kiyoors]

oikawa does think that tobio's baby is extremely cute and that causes an internal conflict like u would not believe

[kiyoors]

So, Dee.

Imagine this. OH BOY I'M SO SERIOUS, I'M RIPPING OFF MY HAIR.

Okay, okay. Friend (maybe already more) Aiku finding out you've never came with any of the men you've been with. You, at this point think it's solely a "You-Problem" and write it off as a mental block.

BUT!BUT! Mr. Oliver himself can't let that shit slide, so he really REALLY tries to figure out what gets you going, even if it takes you hours to get there. (Also no-one ever went down on you before!!)

Thank you for listening to my smooth brain, I'm seeing myself out🫡

uuuuuUGGGHHHHHHHH YES. I'M GOING TO LOSE MY MIND.

because oliver just can't fathom the idea of you not being given the opportunity to experience proper pleasure with another person yet (part of him is disgusted with the men of your past for not caring enough or not noticing, part of him is selfishly excited that he gets to be the first one who can show you how good it feels to come for someone else).

he'd be so patient. so easygoing about it. he's determined, too, but he doesn't let any of that pressure leak into your sessions. you need to be relaxed, after all.

and he thinks it's cute when you're embarrassed to tell him that of course you can get yourself off (because this is his first step—he wants to learn the ways you touch yourself first, the way your body reacts. the sounds you make when you're getting close.)

(thinking about all of this boiling down to oliver coming untouched for the first time at one point or another.)

[kiyoors]

DEE DEEEEE I HAVE BEEN. GOBSMACKED BY THIS THOUGHT. IT HAS RUINED MY LIFE. sitting . sitting on Oliver's lap and holding a razor the underside of his neck. helping him shave / trim his beard. I'm not okay.

"this is a terrible idea," you mutter, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you adjust your grip on the straight razor for the umpteenth time.

the soap lathered across oliver's jaw remains untouched as the metal glints in the warm morning light pouring in through the kitchen window. thick and white, you'd hate to stain it red.

oliver smiles at you, his eyes meeting yours with a playful sort of challenge dancing in them—bold for a man positioned beneath you on the wrong side of a sharp blade.

"i can think of worse," he grins, fingers gently closing around your own.

his other hand rests against the small of your back, splayed in the familiar way of lovers as he keeps you straddled in his lap. your bare toes brush against the cool tile floor, heels knocking into the wooden legs of the rickety chair that bears you both.

"what if i cut you?"

he grins, guiding the razor toward his face, clean metal meeting rich lather and rough stubble and the soft skin hidden beneath.

"i'd probably deserve it."

[kiyoors]