#Haikyuu fic

[ottocre]

˚ ༘ * bed of the truck w/ kita

m.list / wc: 545

    sitting in the bed of his truck, your legs dangle off, swinging back and forth. a soft wind blows past you, running through your hair as stray hairs land in front of your face. kita's hand reaches towards you, brushing them back into their typical position, fingers brushing against your forehead. they're tough as always, calloused throughout his years of farming.

  unprompted, he looks back to the fields in front of you, "you're beautiful, you know that?"

  kita's voice is rugged, having spent the whole day working and ordering around farmhands. however, it sounds just as a smooth as any other day. washing over you like a glass of whiskey, "i mean you do say it every other day."

  "no, i'm asking if you know it. if you know you're undoubtedly beautiful," he keeps his eyes on you, sitting beside you, unable to move as he waits for your answer.

  you continue to stare out at the wheat field in front of you, biting your lip. a part of you wants to tell him you feel the same, even if you still feel insecure, unsure of yourself. despite the countless times that he wraps his arms around you, kissing you on the lips as he mumbles every affectionate term he can think of. however, you know he can see through every little lie.

  "i'm not sure-"

  "well you are," kita nods in his spot, finally your line of sight, staring out at the descending sun.

  letting out a short breath, you finally look over at him. he has a smile on his face, looking so sure of every word he utters. knowing that truly, to him, you are incomparable. "you're only saying that because i cook dinner for you pretty much every night," you press your hands to the plastic truck bed coating, fingers clenching.

  "no, i'm not. i'm saying that because it's hard to take my eyes off of you. it's hard to get up in the morning and not stay in bed with you all day. i can't imagine how anyone couldn't feel the same," kita looks back to you, eyes soft as they meet yours.

  running your tongue along your teeth, you look back at the field, “i got so incredibly lucky with you.”

  “no, y/n, i am so lucky that you chose me,” his hand reaches up, fingers pressing against your chin to pull it towards him, so gentle as your head follows with his hand. 

  staring into his eyes, he waits a moment before leaning in for a kiss. a scratchy five o’clock shadow brushes against your chin, lips soft against his cracked ones. tasting the dirt that blew up in the air and pressed against his face, only for you to ignore it just to feel him against you for longer. to feel his hands pressing against your back, pulling you close to him, legs intertwining with yours.

  the plastic bed of the truck is comfortable as you lean back, him following with you, lips still pushing against yours. one of his hands run up your back and to the back of your head, trying to blanket your head against the tough material. you smile against his lips and just indulge in his presence, knowing he’s the one.

[tulip-room]

lemongrass - s. kiyoomi || wc: 960 || genre: fluff || masterlist || tags: 16+ because of slight suggestive nature, soft sakusa, showers together, washing hair, sakusa smells nice, sleepy talk

syn. after a hard week of being apart sakusa offers a suggestion to spend time together while also relaxing

it was by no stretch to say that it had been a truly dreadful week. the only thing that kept the both of them going was the fact that it was sakusa’s last day being away, she couldn’t wait to be in his arms again. the quiet sounds of motion from the kitchen are the first thing he hears after he unlocks the door. then he hears a pause and footsteps growing more rapid and louder as they get closer. “you’re home,” she says almost breathlessly.

“i’m home.” his suitcase is on the floor and long forgotten as his arms open and she finds herself in the space between them. he smells like lemons and home. his hands find her hair and he leans down so his face is pressed to the crown of her head. “you need a shower.” 

she lets out a small laugh before hitting him lightly on the chest. “if anything you’re the one that needs a shower.”

“fair, come on.” he lets go off her but only for a moment. his hand grabs hold of hers and they walk towards the bathroom. 

“how very forward of you.”

“shut up, idiot.” he opens the door before stepping into their bedroom across the hall and grabbing clothes. he sets them on the counter and before she can react his hands rest on her waist and he leans in to kiss her. 

“maybe you need to leave more often if this is how i’m greeted,” she teases between kisses with a smirk. he pulls away with a sigh and lets go of her. “wait, no, come back.” she grabs his shirt and pulls him towards her again. she stumbles back a bit and his arms cage her in as he holds onto the sink counter. a breath passes her lips, no matter how often this happens she’ll never be used to it. 

they stay like that for longer than they probably should; lips pressing together and hands resting just slightly under bits of fabric. the counter is cool and makes her jump when it briefly touches her back before a warm hand is moved to the spot and he pulls away slightly. his lips are red and glossy as he pulls away and there’s a light flush on his cheeks. “we should probably start the shower now,” although he tries to act unaffected; the slight hitch in his breath and the rise and fall of his chest give it away. 

“yeah—“ her voice cracks and she clears her throat “yeah. yeah definitely.” he slides open the glass door of the shower and turns the knob before closing it again. the patter of the water on the floor makes small echoes. 

her back is still to the counter as he steps back over to her. his hands inch under her shirt and lift it over her head. he pulls her closer again and kisses her shoulders. “i missed you.”

“you’re so soft today. what’s gotten into you?” she asks as she rakes her fingers through his curls gently working out some of the knots. 

“i just missed you.” his lips fall to her collarbone and leave another kiss before they help each other out of the rest of their clothes and into the warm stream of the shower. she’s about to reach for her shampoo but his own hand stops her. “please, can i do it for you.”

“okay,” their voices can barely be heard over the patter of the water. his hands reach for his soap and he gently works it into her scalp for a few minutes and gently places a hand on her forehead as he leans her head back to rinse out the shampoo. “i can smell it you know.” he hums in response. “the lemongrass, i know you’re using your soap.” he brushes a hair mask through the ends of her hair.

“and what about it?” he challenges lightly as his lips kiss the back of her shoulder where it dips lightly. she jumps a little bit at the feeling and he does the same for the other shoulder. he takes care and time into making sure all the product is gone from her hair before putting conditioner in. 

“you never let me use your products.”

“don’t read too much into it.” he scoffs lightly although despite his seemingly annoyed tone his hands have been caressing her skin while the conditioner sits in her hair. 

“whatever you say kiyo,” she leans back towards him so his chest is pressed to her back and sighs. “i miss you, i missed feeling you with me.”

“i missed you too,” his arms wrap around her waist and his chin rests on her shoulder. she can feel his cold and damp hair against her skin and it makes goosebumps rise. he turns his head, his nose presses to the juncture of her neck and he presses a gentle kiss. 

as they continue with their shower she makes sure to return the favor to him and wash his hair. her hands gently rubbing and rinsing and carding through the dark tresses. “i love you,” she had whispered as she kissed his chest and washed his body. “i wish you didn’t have to go so often.” another gentle kiss.

“i wish i didn’t either, but that just means the season is almost over and i can be at home waiting for you all the time.” she smiles and presses another kiss to his skin. 

“i’ll try not to make you wait too long then.”

“no, you better not.” the gentle smiles on their faces only lift the comfort around them. the steamy, but cooling, shower, the bits of laughter, kisses on wet skin, and the smell of lemongrass. 

“i promise.” 

lale!!! hi my love <33 Ihope you're doing well and i know that this is really late but i hope you had a good valentine's day!! have some soft sakusa and showers together <3 thank you for being my friend and always listening to me talk even about things you have no clue about <3

find my other valentine’s here

taglist (gen fil out this form to be added) @hiraethwa @hatsukeii @cherrysurf @cheriisae @darthferbert @localgaytrainwreck @lale-txt @szyvrue @wyrcan

[remuswriting]

TO KNOW EVERY SIDE OF YOU

twenty-five: meet kyo

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[kitasuno]

to be loved is to be known | suna rintarou x reader

you're in love with suna. you think suna's in love with someone else. he's not.

slight angst, happy endings, and miscommunications atsumu is sexy reader is gn wc: 1481

It is dusk and warm and just barely humid when you realize you don’t know Suna Rintarou at all. 

You know that Suna likes chuupets and volleyball and his dingy digital camera with the cracked screen. His left eye twitches slightly when he lies, he always ties his right shoe before his left, and he keeps forgetting to buy pencil lead despite preferring mechanical pencils over traditional. He likes the rain. Can’t bite into ice cream. Wool scarves over fleece, seven followers on his private Twitter, and is always late because he likes feeding the stray cats in the alley next to the Family Mart with the good sausages. 

What you didn’t know is that Suna Rintarou is in love. You find out from Kita Shinsuke, who tells Aran after practice, a conversation not meant for your ears but gracing them nonetheless as you stand before the entrance to the gymnasium. You feel a dryness in your throat and a sting in your eyes as Kita shares that Suna is not only in love but had confessed to someone. Maybe it’s your divine punishment for eavesdropping. Maybe it’s rotten luck. Because, coincidentally, and horribly so, you’ve been in love with Suna Rintarou ever since you met him. 

So when Suna walks up from behind you, back from the vending machine, and asks you why you’re lingering outside and staring at Kita with that look on your face, you lie. 

“I have a crush on Shinsuke.” You blurt out. 

He blinks. Once. Twice. And stares. 

The longer Suna stares at you under the grey, purplish-pinkish sky with his hands shoved into his pockets and his left eye twitching, you realize you don’t know him at all. Because Suna, in all his indifference and nonchalance, looks hurt. You see something flit beneath his eyes, but you’ve never been good at reading people. So you settle on the idea that it’s something less than betrayal but more than indifference, and you don’t know why your heart’s beating so fast and sinking, pitter pattering and twisting in your stomach. 

You feel sick. 

“You like Kita-san,” He says, and it comes out as a statement, not a question. He blinks a third time, and as the look in his eyes disappears as quickly as it came, you decide you much prefer the hurt or the discomfort or the something over the blank apathy that he’s looking you over with now. “You have a crush on Kita… Shinsuke.” He finishes, and you can’t hear the bitterness in his voice over the shrill of your heart. 

You’ve always liked Suna’s eyes but tonight you like the pavement more, and as you stare a hole into the concrete beneath you, you ignore how your feet are fidgeting and your palms are sweaty and how Rintarou is hovering over you. 

“Mhm,” You squeak, tearing your eyes from the asphalt with the cracks and an ugly pill-bug on the ground. As you look up to grey eyes and dark hair, you wish that loving Suna Rintarou was harder. 

“I’m, uh, I’m going to tell Shinsuke tomorrow.” You say, Shinsuke’s name foreign on your tongue compared to the warmth and honey that Rintarou’s tastes like. I’m in love with you and this is a bad idea, you think. I like you, not Kita, is what you don’t say. Instead, and arguably worse, is the mention of Miya Atsumu’s name. “Atsumu gave me the confidence to confess!” 

Suna pauses. 

“Atsumu told you to?” He asks, and it’s the most bewildered you’ve heard him in a while.

A glance at his phone. Hands that emerge from his pockets. If you weren’t so preoccupied with the concrete you would have seen the twitch of his fingers and the tightening of his jaw as he opens Line. You nod dimly. 

“Okay,” is what he says, and you feel your heart in your stomach again. You look up. “Okay.” He repeats again. 

And maybe it’s the hurt that stings in your chest from Rintarou being so okay with you (hypothetically) being in love with Kita Shinsuke that pushes your eyes to water and your mouth to open. 

“Is that it?” You ask. 

A beat of silence. And then, a scoff. 

“Yeah. Congratulations,” Suna says. “Good luck.” 

As dusk turns to nightfall and what was a barely-humid night in July is now overwhelmingly warm and sickly and hot, Rintarou’s gaze is overbearing. And when your eyes start to swim and Suna’s gaze turns to confusion and then realization, you do the only thing you know how to do. You bolt. 

An incessant string of dings. Your lip wobbles under your teeth as you pull out your phone from under your covers. 

from: miya osamu (21:03)  where the fuck did ya go  and whys suna blwoin up my phone

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:03)  WHYYSS SUNARIN BLOWING UOA PP MY PHONE ??!?@@>>!?>??!??! WHYS HE SAYIN U LIKE KITA-SAN

from: you (21:05) its so over i ran home

from: you (21:05)  i told him i like shinsuke and that i am confessing to kita  tomorrow

amazing perfect miya atsexy and miya osamu are typing…

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:06)  WHAT

from: miya osamu (21:06) r u fuckin stupid why would ya do that

from: you (21:07) i heard shinsuke tell aran that suna confessed to someone today and then rin came back so i told him i like kita bcuz i panicked and also he cant know i like him right as he’s ginna get BAGGED wait but idk if he got rejected or not WHO AM I KIDDING suna would NOT get rejected LOLOL but anyways i think he knows i like him bcuz i started cryig and then he had this look on his face like he knew i was bullshittin him now venmo me money before i kil msyelf 

from: miya osamu (21:12) yeah he was gonna confess to YOU today

from: you (21:12) ?

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:12) HOLY MISCOMMUNICATION

from: you (21:18) Wht??

from: miya osamu (21:19) suna was supposed to confess to u today 

from: you (21:21) but shinsuke said rin already confessed

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:22) why wiud u ever think about takin gossip from KITA SHINSUKE AN WHYD YA BRING ME UP IM GNNA BE STONED AT DAWN

from: miya osamu (21:22) HOORAY !

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:22) SHUDDUP  

You bolt, again, but this time it’s out of your bed, down a flight of stairs, and through your front door. You’re halfway down the street near the Family Mart with the Good Sausages™ when you barrell into someone who smells faintly of blackberries and Suna’s laundry detergent. 

“Excuse me,” You blurt, scrambling away, until you feel a grip on your waist and a familiar shape behind you with a familiar smell and a familiar voice, and Ohmygod, you’re out of breath and close to frantic but Suna Rintarou is holding you steady by your waist, warm and tall and here. 

“Rintar-”

“I like you.”

You feel it more than you hear it- Suna is muffled and quiet as he mumbles into the back of your shoulder, tall frame folded into you. 

“Idiot.” He adds, and you don’t have to turn to know the tips of his ears are pink and his eyebrows are furrowed. “You’re an idiot.” 

It’s twilight, and just-barely humid when you realize that Suna Rintarou knows you. 

Suna knows that you ramble when you’re nervous. He knows that you like the rain and you don’t like humidity. You carry extra lead in your pencil pouch and you like volleyball and stray cats. You can bite into your ice cream. You color coordinate your bookshelves. You don’t have a crush on Kita Shinsuke. 

You don’t know that Suna keeps his digital camera with the shitty cracks because you bought it for him from a shop in Akihabara. You don’t know that Suna leaves his packs of pencil lead at home because leaning over your desk in class and seeing that smile on your face is far more fun. You don’t know that he writes with extra pressure on his worksheets to crack his lead and ask for more. 

You didn’t know that Suna Rintarou is in love with you. 

So he grins into your shoulder and tells you.  

amazing perfect miya atsexy (22:14) 1 Attachment GROSS!!!!!! do NOT start making out at practice or i will RESIGN !!!

sunarin (22:14) @ y/n lets start making out at practice

y/n, miya osamu, and 2 others reacted with Thumbs Up! ojiro aran, amazing perfect miya atsexy reacted with Thumbs Down!

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (22:15)  @ KITA SHINSUKE @ KITA SHINSUKE @ KITA SHINSUKE @ KITA SHINSUKE 

sunarin has removed amazing perfect miya atsexy from the Inarizaki Volleyball Team Chat. 

[bokutoko]

so i saw a tiktok about an athlete in the olympics who lost his wedding ring in the river during the opening ceremony…

⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

and i couldn’t help but think of sweet, sweet bokuto who doesn’t mean to lose the ring, but he’s just so clumsy. and afterwards, he’s absolutely mortified and stresses so bad that you’ll be upset with him.

granted, you are sad, but you understand it wasn’t intentional. you just nod with a soft, slightly forced smile, telling him, “it’s okay, kou. focus on the games for now. we can worry about it another time.”

but bokuto can’t seem to forgive himself…

until he gets an idea. your anniversary is coming up soon…

so when japan claims the victory against argentina and wins the gold, bokuto turns to you in the stands, watching as you happily cheer him on. he basks in the spotlight and relishes the feeling of you, his sweet wife of five years, always supporting him no matter what.

while you’ve always known bokuto to be an unpredictable human being in all your years together, nothing could prepare you for this. all the cameras pan to bokuto with his usual dazzling smile, and they zoom in on the beautiful ring, adorned with your favorite gem, as he yells out, “marry me again!”

and with a shy nod and wide smile, you feel yourself fall in love with him all over again.♡

a/n: akaashi helped him come up with this idea

masterlist | navigation

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.

[bonniepop]

another night where you fight, another night of silence. another night where miya osamu sleeps with his back to you.

the realization that there is not much more you can do to save your relationship clutches at your chest with an iron grip.

the gravity of it makes you whimper. pressing your lips together, you shakily push yourself up to sit blinking back tears while blindly stepping around for your slippers, willing yourself not to sob—not here, not where he can hear. your toes touch the fluff of them, and you hurry to slip them on. you need to get out of here.

as quiet as possible, you leave your boyfriend in your shared bedroom.

you stumble to the couch and kick off your shoes, blindly searching until your fingers catch the lampshade switch. you yank it to provide some light, rattling as it flings back into place.

you pull your knees to your chest and press your forehead against your kneecaps. a numb part of your brain thinks oh, so this is where this was, when you think of the misery that quieted itself, replaced with a numbness that overtook you during the fight you had with him earlier.

the numbness that made your limbs feel like ice when he clicked off the phone call without even hearing you out.

you wanted to tell him so much, but in the face of his blank gaze and dismissive demeanor, you shut off. you have more fight in you, you know that. but tonight you just couldn’t. couldn’t listen to him tell you that he needed more from you—more support, more time, more patience.

you’ve given him that, right? your brain runs with thoughts you can't keep up with. you gave him yourself. you have, for months, for years. you did what you could. you’ve withstood lonely anniversaries, forgotten birthdays, broken promises. you’ve done everything you could. you gave what you could. you gave everything you could.

i want you to come home, you wanted to tell him eatlier tonight. come home. you’re never home. i know you’re busy at work and you’re doing what you love but please, ‘samu. please. 

love me, too.

your body wracks with a sob, the hurt fresh, as if the words that you never got to say wounded your insides instead. you wanted to tell him that, you wanted to beg for it, beg for his time, beg for his attention, beg for him to love you back. but time and time again he just turns and says he’s tired, he doesn't want to hear it, and the moment is gone, and now the fear of knowing that leaving things unsaid will destroy you, will destroy him. will destroy both of you.

you huddle closer into yourself and sob, a sharp sound in your ears making your head pound.

“babe?” you hear through the ringing in your ears, and suddenly warm hands are on your arms. “babe, what’s wrong?” his voice is calm against your turmoil. “are you having a panic attack?”

“’samu, i’m—” you shudder and he leaves for a moment, flitting to the kitchen to grab you some water. 

“drink, please,” he tells you, gently unfurling you to sit. you comply with shaky limbs, taking the water he’d given you in your delicate grip. a few sips are enough to calm you down, but the fear is still there.

he gingerly takes the glass and sets it aside. he kneels in front of you, taking your hands and soothingly rubbing his thumbs against your skin. his fingers are hot, almost like a furnace, but when you realize that he's not, he's fine, your hands are freezing, you resist the urge to pull away as he warms your palm.

when he looks up to smile at you, you see the exhaustion on his face, and, instantly, you hate yourself for it. for this.

"i'm sorry," you blurt out, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

his hand leaves yours and cups your cheek. "for what, baby?"

“i love you so much, osamu,” you tell him without thinking, voice thick and wet and miserable. you press the palm of the hand he let go of against his cheek, hiccuping when he closes his eyes to lean into your touch. 

“i love you, too,” he says, ready to apologize for the fight, but it's not about that.

not anymore.

you pull away. the confusion and hurt on his face is making everything worse.

“i love you so much,” you tell him, desperately wishing that he could understand. “but i—” you sob, “but, osamu, i can’t anymore.”

osamu presses his lips together, saying nothing. you hear him sniffle, and his fingers come forward to brush at the tears on your cheeks and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“i love you so much,” you confess. “i would do anything for you. and i have, i have for years. i’ve tried my best, but osamu, i’m so tired,” you sob. your voice feels like its giving out but the desperation makes the words claw themselves out of your mouth. “i’m so tired, i'm so tired and i'm so lonely, and—and—and i love you so much, but i have nothing left to give.”

you pull your hands away to hunch over and cry into your palms unable to face him. messily, you wipe at your face and push your hair back. you give him the most apologetic smile you can muster, but you're unable to see his face through your tears. “i’m so sorry i can’t give you more, osamu.”

you hear him sniffle and when you wipe your tears away with the backs of your hands, his eyes are glassy. then he closes his eyes.

the pain that washes over his face is absolutely unbearable. the furrow of his brow and the wrinkle of his chin, the lines by his scowl that you know is him trying his best to keep it together.

when he opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes are no longer glassy. your heart breaks for the pain he refuses to show. “what’s next?”

your smile is sad and wet with tears. “i think you know.” you brush his hair back and cradle his face with your hands. “let’s… let’s do this in the morning, okay?”

he nods, looking away. he licks his lips and shakes his head, and he turns to face you with a furrowed brow and a little more composure despite his watery gaze. but it doesn’t take long before his face crumples and he rushes to hide his face against your legs. his quiet sobs are pained and miserable, his chest shaking as he cries. 

you press your face against his hair and cry with him.

—

the morning greets you kindly, the soft sunlight bathing your room in a sweet glow. it’s early, but you can’t keep sleeping. there’s a lot to pack.

your eyes feel hot and swollen, and bones feel heavy beneath your skin, weighing you down from getting up from the bed. still, you fight. you push yourself up to sit and notice that you’re alone. unsurprising, really; osamu has been leaving earlier and coming home later. onigiri miya needs care, needs nurturing, so it’ll blossom and grow. you need to stop begrudging him for it.

you finish your morning ablutions in the bathroom and head out to the kitchen, but when you open your bedroom door, the smell of food hits your nose like a smack to the face. your stomach twists when you see a familiar broad back—osamu didn’t leave—and your fingers turn cold.

the door slides shut behind you and he turns. “good mornin’,” he says quietly, shutting off the stove.

“good morning,” you say, walking to your kitchenette. when you see the spread on the table, you gape despite yourself. “osamu. what is—what.”

he flushes, sliding a delicious looking steak unto a plate and setting it alongside the other plates—nearly every single plate you own, you note—and your dining table is bursting with food. “cooked breakfast.”

“for how many people?” you ask, incredulous. “i tried t'remember everythin’ you liked,” he said with a sniff, and your heart crinkles at the edges, because that means something.

“thank you,” you whisper, and you quietly take a seat while sets aside the dishware he used. 

when he finishes, he turns to look at you, leaning on the counter. it takes him a while. “when you leave,” he says, “i’m going to try again.”

you stare at him, confused. you say nothing and wait for him to continue.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he says, and he rubs his face in frustration. “but i know i’ve—i know i fucked up. i love you, and i never should’ve hurt you.” he inhales through his nose. “but i did, and i can’t change that.

“but i’m not giving up on you. not on us. you—” he clears his throat, and the dark circles beneath his eyes makes your heart feel tight. “i’ll… if i have to start all over again, i’ll do it,” he whispers, walking closer and taking your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “i’ll win you back.”

“osamu,” you whisper, and his face crumples again.

“i love you too much to let you go,” he says, voice breaking as he fights back tears. “and i know that makes me a jerk. but i’m… i love you, so much—so fucking much, and i hate myself for not making you feel that. for hurting you.”

he gets on his knees and tears are streaming down your face. “leave me if you have to,” he says brokenly.

“if you need space, i’ll understand. but please,” he begs. “please don’t give up on me.” 

he does the unthinkable. he curls over and bows, back curved and forehead pressed against the backs of his hands, pressed against the floor.

the horror that overtakes you is beyond words. 

you drop to the floor to pull him upright, not letting him do this. he won’t do this to himself, you won’t let him. not for anyone, not for you. you pull his face against yours and kiss him as hard as you can, crying as you do.

you won't let him do this.

later, you sit on the couch, arms around osamu’s middle as you lie on his chest. the idea that this could be the last time you held him like this made you want to burst into tears again.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he promises, pushing your hair out of your face, gently guiding your chin up. “please, just… give me another chance.”

you look up at him, and your eyes meet.

—

“hey!” atsumu greets warmly as soon as you enter the restaurant, spreading his arms wide to engulf you in a hug. “it’s so good t’see you!“

“hi, ‘tsumu,” you greet, returning the hug. 

he motions for you to sit as he picks up the menu. “know what you want?”

you nod, not even bothering to pick up the menu. “how are you? how’s training?”

“’m good! training’s good. teammates are pretty good, too.”

"yeah? like who?"

atsumu makes a show of looking at the menu. "oh, i don't you know them."

you roll your eyes at his obvious ploy to get you to start talking. “fine. ask me.”

atsumu instantly leans in, conspiratorially covering his mouth with the menu and whispering, “how are you two? it’s been over a month now, right?”

“oi.” you twist your head to smile up at the newcomer. “stop bothering them, ‘tsumu.”

atsumu glares at his twin. “i’m the one who invited ‘em to lunch!”

osamu rolls his eyes and lays down a platter of onigiri in front of you. he snatches the menu and smacks his brother’s wandering hands with it before they get to close. “these are not for you.”

“but that’s a lot!" atsumu whines. "can’t i have any?”

“no,” osamu says resolutely, then turns to you and gives you the softest smile he can muster, pinning the menu by his side and arm.

"i haven't even ordered yet!" atsumu complains.

osamu ignores him. “let me know what you think.”

“okay,” you say with a smile. 

“and let me know if you need to take out anything,” he continues, “i’ll wrap it up for you.” he leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple. “enjoy.”

“thank you, ‘samu,” you tell him before he turns to leave. 

he smiles back at you and heads back behind the bar.

atsumu has evidently forgotten about ordering, because his eyes shuttle back and forth between you two before nodding considerably. “so i take it things are going well?”

“yeah,” you admit, picking up an onigiri. “going really well, actually.”

“you’ve been…” atsumu searches for the word, “is it still called ‘dating’? you broke up. but… entertaining each other…?”

“don’t hurt yourself,” you joke. “but yeah. let’s call it dating. and it’s going well, thanks for asking.” you take a bite of the onigiri.

“does he still have a chance?” atsumu asks, genuine curiosity on his face.

you chew thoughtfully as you look back at osamu, who’s smiling at a customer. you remember that bright morning, when he helped you pack, helped you move into your friend’s apartment. when he cooked all that food, and you found it neatly packed away in a thermal bag that had a handwritten note, reminding you to eat well.

you remember the next day, when he showed up at your friend’s door, holding flowers and inviting you out to get some ice cream. you remember his messages, his calls, his check ins on you, littered across the days, asking you how you are or if you’re eating or if you need any food.

you could call him if you needed any help, if you needed anything at all.

but reality sets in when you think of how one phone call could be a mistake, it stops you from searching his name each time you pick up the phone.

in your mind, you see his bent form, his begging, his tears. you remember his smiles and his hugs and his ‘see you later’s, his gradually growing list of unbroken promises. you remember the effort, the time he’s putting into you, putting aside for you. you remember how hard he tries for you.

it's like everything is new again.

his eyes catch yours and he gives you a small wave, and you wave back, your stomach fluttering.

it's not new, you think. it's better.

you swallow your food. it's delicious.

“yeah,” you say softly, “he does.”

[sweetfushi]

HOW THEY REALISED THEY WERE ATTRACTED TO YOU PT 1

fluff | tetsuro kuroo, kei tsukishima, wakatoshi ushijima x reader, fluff, you almost get hit with the ball (thanks yaku), reader is suggested to be short(er). ◦ notes. part two here.

TETSURO KUROO.

He started becoming quieter, almost conscious of what he said around others.

Nekoma watches as their captain almost moves in a daze, his eyes fixated on a certain girl on the bleachers, writing something and tucking her hair behind her ear every so often. Yaku had been the first to notice a few days ago during one of their practice matches, brow furrowed and lips pursed as Kuroo observed his younger sister. Although you were only younger by a year, making you a second year while Yaku and Kuroo third years, your brother was highly protective of you.

“She’s so pretty,” Kuroo murmurs, tossing the ball up and catching it repeatedly as he continues to gaze at you. He had said few words this match, albeit his smart remarks still made their presence. However, Kenma had to snap him out of a few daydreams while Lev had waved his big hands in his face, yelling “Yoohoo!”

Kuroo had deadpanned at that.

As the game continues, he watches as Yaku saves the ball but also causes it to fly over and almost hit you, making you yelp and cover your head. Kuroo almost chokes on his own breath.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Yaku rushes out, face pinched in concern as he jogs over to where you sit with an unimpressed expression. Kuroo watches momentarily as the libero withstands your discipline and light slap to his head, before - as no one else seemed to do so - rushing up the bleacher stairs and snatching the ball up.

“You sure you don’t wanna sit higher up?” Kuroo suggests, watching it take you a moment to register that he’s talking to you. Your eyes lock and his breath hitches, lips parting as he watches you smile sheepishly and gather your notes in your arms. “That probably would be a good idea,” you giggle and thank him for his concern, moving to sit closer to the doors but not before shooting Yaku one last glare.

The libero pouts and apologises again.

Kuroo composes himself and fiddles with the ball before starting to make his way back down to the court.

“Hey, wait.” He freezes in place at the sound of your voice, turning to face you with inexplicable anticipation (for what, he wasn’t sure himself). He finds himself smiling as you do, watching as you nod towards the ball in his hand. “I will throw that ball out the window if it reaches me again,” you raise a brow, your warning teasing and (largely) unserious.

Kuroo snorts, nodding. “Noted.”

KEI TSUKISHIMA.

You became the person he talks to the most.

He hadn’t abandoned Yamaguchi at all, but even the green-haired man notices Tsukishima’s developing interest in you. You seemed more academic than the blond, opting to spend your time between classes in the library or the local cafe, but lately you had allowed him to distract you with his smart remarks and invitations to random days out. This time, he wanted you to help him practise.

“I’m not going easy on you,” you mumble, still shoving your books in your bag as you walk alongside him. He rolls his eyes and smacks the top of your head with the packaged strawberry shortcake slice he insists on having daily.

Once you get to the green field beside the school’s gym, he becomes insufferable.

“What happened to not going easy on me?” He grins, watching you chase after the ball for a second time.

You groan and almost much too aggressively throw a rock at him, one he easily avoids. You hate admitting it, but you are just as competitive as he is, so you don’t let his teasing demotivate you.

“I’m going to serve this ball in your damn face,” you huff, hitting the ball again. This time, Tsukishima is focused on his plays, following the ball carefully and analysing your every move. 

By the time you’re done, three hours have passed and the sun is barely hanging in the sky. You’re sweating and panting, Tsukishima slouched against a wall as he too catches his breath. Neither one of you breaks eye contact so you’re not oblivious to the way he lets his eyes roam over you. You don’t hesitate to do the same.

“I shouldn’t have eaten that cake,” he huffs, “I’m gonna puke.”

You burst out laughing at his whimpers. He takes a few moments to hydrate himself before inhaling deeply and glaring at you.

“I hope your stomach hurts so bad that you can’t sleep tonight,” he almost pouts - so uncharacteristic of him (also hoping that you stay up to text him).

“If you’re done being petty,” you push your hair back and wipe yourself down with a small towel, “I was thinking we can go get some food, maybe help that little upset stomach of yours.”

You almost scream when he throws his sweaty towel at you.

WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA.

He starts to ask about you.

He’s walking out of school with the rest of the team, waiting outside a local store as Tendo and Goshiki spend half their life savings on snacks they’ll likely forget about. Ushijima is checking the news and simultaneously listening to Ohira talk about how he’s trying out a new regime at the gym, until he hears Semi on the phone with someone. He glances up at him, hoping to hear your voice, but turns back to his phone when he doesn’t.

After about ten minutes of yelling at Tendo and Goshiki to hurry up before their banks question their hefty transactions, they all start heading home again.

“How’s your sister?” Ushijima asks bluntly, catching Semi’s surprised expression in his peripheral vision. The setter hesitates before nodding. “She’s fine.”

An awkward silence dawns on the duo.

“I thought there would be more to that conversation,” Semi laughs, staring up at his seemingly unfazed captain. Ushijima hums.

Again, the silence becomes deafening.

“Is she still working in that new firm downtown?” Ushijima asks. “I remember you said that she was excited about getting her own office.”

Semi nods, brow furrowed in confusion. “I told you that about two months ago, do I wanna know how or why you still remember that?” The two then look at each other with seemingly apathetic expressions, although Semi has a feeling that Ushijima isn’t asking out of the kindness of his own heart. He doesn’t mention it though, instead says his goodbyes to the others as they all part ways - except for him and Ushijima.

Although Semi isn't too keen on letting you invest time into boys seeking nothing but someone they can manipulate for their own benefit, he knows that Ushijima is nothing like that. Though, he's not sure how the captain would even go about approaching you considering his and your busy schedules.

"Do you... want her number?" Semi initiates what Ushijima seemed hesitant to mention.

"Please."

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[yenqa]

20191009 I LIKE HER | timeskip!tsukkishima as your boyfriend

♫ – currently playing… mac demarco

warnings – tsukishima is kind of mean, periods, food, mentions of drinking, throwing up/vomiting, jokes of being stabbed in the stomach, profanities

pairing – tsukishima x fem!reader ☆

a/n – hi guys… hope u enjoy !!

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[tiza0925]

Idk if you take requests but Hinata,Tsukishima, Or Atsumu with an S/o that has a choking kink?? You can write however you want (u dont have to take this req, if u dont want to) :))

how about all three hq men ♡ i loved this prompt, ty for the request anon 

Wrap your fingers around my neck | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, riding, lap sex, raw sex, kissing, praise kink, creampie, finger sucking, degradation kink, dirty talk, pussy eating, squirting, petnames, fingering, needy!Atsumu, pussy slapping, kitchen counter sex, choking kink ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18 YEARS

Pairings:  Hinata Shouyou x Female Reader, Tsukishima Kei x Female Reader, & Miya Atsumu x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Hinata

It was an honest accident. 

Hinata didn’t mean to do it—and you genuinely did not think he would follow along after but—

Hinata always loses himself a little whenever he kisses you. 

He can’t help it. 

Your lips feel so nice and soft against his. You taste so good when he licks his tongue inside your mouth and fuck—the little moans you make against him get his head all hazy, and he just wants his hands all over you—

“Shit,” Hinata murmurs, his breathing a little heavy as he pulls on your lower lip with his mouth, and his hands roam up your thighs, the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist—touching you everywhere while you sit on his lap, straddling him, as he sits up against the bed frame. “So pretty, angel.” 

You let out a shaky breath against his mouth, and you grind your hips towards him—pulling out a hiss from Hinata as his cock moves inside you. 

“Keep going, baby,” Hinata groans when you roll your hips again, and you gasp as his cock hits against your g-spot while your clit rubs against his exposed skin, and you dig your fingers into his broad, muscled shoulders for support. 

“Just like that,” Hinata’s hands are squeezing your ass, holding your hips, grabbing your tits—they’re everywhere and he can’t seem to control it when he’s like this. 

He just loves how you feel under the palm of his hand—maybe just a bit more than a volleyball—and his head is in the clouds as your pussy swallows him so perfectly, taking his thick cock like you always do, that he—

He doesn’t realize that one of his hands has moved further up to graze over your collarbone and shoulders. 

He’s too busy focusing on how sinful your tongue feels gliding against his. 

How your pussy is so damn wet—you’re dripping all over his dick—and god, you’re tight, that he’s so close to exploding—

Hinata doesn’t realize that his hand is near your neck—your skin is so soft and nice under his hand that everywhere feels the same—

It’s why he mindlessly circles his fingers around the base of your neck when his palm is there—he just needs his entire hand to feel you.

And you suck in a sharp breath as the feel of long, strong, and thick fingers curl around your throat—so hot and firm—and that’s Hinata freezes. 

Shit. 

He’s ready to apologize profusely—his fingers are already beginning to uncurl from your neck—because he didn’t mean to hold you that way but—

But then he hears you let out a moan—small, shaky, and wanting—and you buck your hips up against him, kissing him more feverishly, causing Hinata’s eyes to droop and roll back, a small groan ripping out of him when he realizes—

You liked that. 

“Yeah?” Hinata breathes out in response to your moan, and his fingers stay where they are—just a little hesitant with the pressure—as you ride him, your lashes fluttering as his heavy hand sits around your throat. “You liked that, didn’t you?” 

You nod, eyelids feeling heavy, and Hinata lets loose a low breath, shaking his head and smirking as he kisses you, murmuring against your red lips. “Should’ve told me you like that sooner, baby.” 

Because now that he knows you like having his hand around your throat like that—

“Would’ve made that pretty little head of yours all dizzy a long time ago,” Hinata rolls his hips up as he says that, shoving his cock a little deeper until you swear you feel it in your guts, causing you to gasp with a wet moan, and he puts a little more pressure on the sides of your neck with the pads of his finger—his eyes focused on yours. “Is that okay, angel?” 

More than okay—fuck, your head feels a little more light-headed now. 

You can still breathe, but the pressure around your throat brings out a blurry fog around the edges of your vision, and your cunt clenches around Hinata’s cock—making him groan—as your fluids leak out, getting him all wet and messy from how heated you are. 

It’s so overwhelming and you love it. 

You nod, moving your hips in tandem with his—languid rolls as his dick rubs your g-spot over and over, bringing you higher and tighter and hotter for your orgasm—

“Good girl,” Hinata praises, breathless, and uses his hold around your throat to pull you in closer—letting him kiss you like he’s greedy for your mouth as he licks and sucks and nips until you feel all woozy from it—then he moves to brush his mouth against the shell of your ear, his voice throaty as he pushes his hips up. “Can you cum for me like this, baby?”

Your pussy throbs around the girth of him when you feel his fingers press against the sides of your throat a little more, his hold around the most vulnerable part of you feeling possessive like he can own you if he wanted to. 

And you trust him enough to give it if he asks.

Your lips part with soft breaths being punched out with every buck of his hips, fucking you to make your mind melt, and he grazes his teeth against your earlobe—your heart leaping in your throat when he gently squeezes your neck, testing it until you moan in approval, losing yourself to how full you feel from his dick. “I want you to make a mess, angel, you always look so pretty when you do.” 

God—

It only takes a few more pumps of his cock inside you, your walls sucking him in, while your puffy clit rubs against your stomach until your orgasm ripples through you—your mouth hanging open with a silent moan as you gush around Hinata’s cock, legs tensing and back arching as your vision goes blurry and white as he keeps his hands where they are. “Fuck—so good for me, baby, look at you—”

He fucks you through it, nearing his orgasm as you pulse around him, and Hinata cums with a guttural groan—sticky cum spurting into your plush walls—

And his hand stays around your throat the entire time—holding and pinning you in place just the way you like it. 

Tsukishima

It’s not news to him that you like the feeling of his hand around your throat. 

He’s been playing around with the idea for a while, now, whenever he’s touching you—just in subtle ways. 

Whenever he kisses you, he places his hand just above your collarbone—not fully on your neck, but the tease is there—and slots his lips between yours with a sigh. 

Or it’s when you two are out in public and it’s a little too busy and you easily become lost in the crowd—Tsukishima guides you with his hand wrapping delicately against your nape, keeping you close while he has you in his hold. 

He always picked up on the way you reacted whenever he touched you there. 

How blown your pupils would get. 

How your breath would hitch with your lips parting with a small intake of breath. 

How dazed you would look in the eyes—making him feel just a little smug about finding out a little secret about you that he definitely plans to use one night. 

It’s when he’s got you lying on the bed all pretty for him—looking up at him with starry eyes as he pumps two of his fingers in and out of your drenched pussy—with his other hand caressing your cheek, his thumb teasing your lower lip. 

And he’s smirking down at you—in his usual lackadaisical way— with one of his knees sitting between your bent legs as he presses the pad of his thumb down onto your lower lip to pry your mouth open. “You always need something to suck on, don’t you?”

He teases you, his voice low and mirthful, and all it does is make your pussy clench as you moan—rolling your tongue out to flick it at his thumb before wrapping your warm mouth around it, your cheeks hollowing as you give his thumb a slow, indulgent suck.

“Shit,” It’s the way you keep eye contact with him as your head moves, leaving his thumb shiny with your saliva as you suck it, that sends heat down to his cock, making him feel light in the head. “You’re a needy little thing, you know.” 

You make a sound that’s similar to a moan around his thumb, and your eyes flutter, going half-mast, as you bob your head and swirl your tongue around his thumb as if it was his cock instead. 

And Tsukishima can’t help it—you look so desperate like this, your back arching against his hovering body, looking up at him so obediently, with your tits all perked up and nipples pert and pretty as you leak all over his hand—

It’s filthy and you—

“A perfect little slut,” Tsukishima lets those words slip out, a groan in his throat, and you choke a little with a whimper when you feel him press his thumb into your mouth a bit deeper, affection lacing his rather filthy words.

And you moan—low and wanting—when you hear him call you that, and Tsukishima can’t help but chuckle darkly as he leans in a little closer, his head tilting almost mockingly as he watches you with desire and affection. “Yeah?”

He curls his fingers to rub your spongey g-spot, his palm pressing against your swollen little clit for friction that sends heat up your tummy and chest. “You like being a little slut for me, sweetheart?” 

Fuck. 

“Looking like the mess that you are just because of me,” Tsukishima hums, his voice low. “You can hear just how soaked you are, you know.” 

You whine around his thumb as your orgasm balances at the edge—ready to combust with how tight your muscles feel—and you nod. 

God—you’re too perfect for him. 

He can’t help the small smile that threatens to creep up on him, trying to focus on making you cum—for the second time tonight—on his fingers before he finally fucks you the way you both need him to and—

And then his eyes widen a little, turning more amorous when his eyes briefly flit down to your exposed throat—

“…You can get a little more messy for me, right baby?” It’s not a question. 

Just a warning worded more sweetly. 

Because before you even get a chance to respond to him—

You feel his thumb slip out of your mouth—making a wet popping sound with your spit connecting a thin, clear string from your mouth to his thumb, leaving you gasping for air—

Only for it to be partially taken away again when you feel long, calloused fingers gently wrap around the area just beneath your jawline—and your eyes widen as you look at him, your breath catching, and he watches you with a knowing look behind his eyes. 

Like he knows that no matter what—you’ll trust him.

And he’s not wrong—you do. 

Enough to let your eyes immediately soften into submission, your lips wet from your saliva, and you let out a small moan as you tilt your chin up—giving him more room for his fingers to hold and cover. 

It brings out a hiss from him, low and breathy, and you see the way things primarily shift in his eyes when you begin to pant, moving your hips as he fucks you with his fingers—encouraging him to push harder and make you lose your mind. 

And god—he listens almost instantly as he squeezes the sides of your neck a little more, and you moan as you get a little hazy in the head, your limbs loose as his fingers move inside you. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Tsukishima lets out a small breath that’s almost a chuckle, and he watches you with his dick throbbing as you let him take the weakest part of your body into his own hands to play with. 

Giving him that trust that gets him all heady and needy to just—

To just kiss you and fuck you and take all of you until all you feel, smell, taste, and hear is him. 

“Always so good for me, sweetheart.” 

He grinds his palm against your clit with more pressure, moving it in circles as his fingers get swallowed by your pulsing walls—and then he’s pressing his fingers into your pulse points a little more, slowly playing with your ability to breathe, feeling his hand heavy around your neck until—

“Oh fuck—Kei—shit—”

You gasp, shaky, and your lower spine draws tight when your eyes get blurry from the brief lack of air—and that seems to snap something deep within you as you cum furiously around his fingers, spasming and gasping with your senses turning numb—

“Just like that, baby—get all nasty for me—“

Tsukishima finger fucks you through it, watching with dark eyes as he loosens up his fingers around your throat—and clear fluids squirt out of your sopping pussy with every thrust of his wrist inside you.

You end up gushing fluids all over the bed and his thighs—but Tsukishima doesn’t care. 

He’s too wound up and high on watching you cum on him to care about how sticky everything is—

It’ll only get messier once he gets his dick inside you anyway. 

You cry, coming down from your high as air rushes into your lungs after your orgasm—your pussy clenching hard from wave after wave of pleasure—

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” You hear him breathe that out. “And fill you up just how you like it.” 

You’re still too out of it to respond with anything other than a languid nod, feeling light and a puddle of fire at the same time as he kisses you so achingly soft that you melt against him. 

Atsumu

If he isn’t spending his time practicing or playing volleyball—

Miya Atsumu’s idea of using his time effectively is by having his hands and mouth on and all over you.

Specifically being able to bury his face in between your plush thighs—with his mouth and tongue pressed against your cunt. 

It’s what he’s doing right now as he’s got you bent over the island counter in your kitchen—while he’s on his knees behind you, hands gripping onto your upper thighs to hold you in place, with his tongue running a wide strip from your clit to your hole. 

“God—‘Sumu, you couldn’t have waited—?” 

You moan with a small whine as he sucks on your folds, tongue dipping in and jaw working as he makes out with your pussy from behind. 

“Sorry, baby,” Atsumu is breathing heavily when he pulls back, and he wets his lips as he slides his hands up to squeeze your ass—massaging it before using his hold on them to spread them apart, giving him easier access to your cunt.

And his eyes go half-lidded, his cock hardening in his pants, at the sight of your spit-slicked and soaked folds. “Can’t help it.”

Then he dives back in, jaw slack as his tongue licks your pussy like he’s thirsty for it, and you whine at how embarrassingly close you are to your orgasm already. 

“Ya looked so good in that skirt,” Atsumu murmurs against you, undulating his tongue against your clit before pushing the tip of his tongue through your drooling slit—

And he moans. 

He actually moans while he eats you out—like he’s just so desperate to have his mouth on you, determined to get you utterly soaked as your juices trickle down his chin and your thighs from how much he’s gotten you worked up. 

“Couldn’ wait,” Atsumu pants, swallowing before pushing his tongue further to lick your sensitive clit—flicking it with his tongue until he has you tensing and your thighs squeezing around his face. ‘Fuck—baby, so good—”

A whimper escapes your throat, and you rest your forehead against your arms that are on the counter, pushing your hips back to fuck yourself on his face until that ball of heat explodes in between your legs—and your orgasm throbs through you. 

Liquid heat spreads through your body, and you moan through it all as Atsumu licks and sucks and eats, groaning so low and needy, until your clit twitches with oversensitivity and you’re whining. 

“So pretty f’me,” You hear him mutter, sounding drunk off the taste of your cunt, and your entire body jolts as a sharp gasp slips through your parted lips when you feel a slap against your sopping folds. 

And Atsumu’s head spins when he stands back up—his eyes focused on the way your arousal drools down from your pussy lips, a thin string of clear fluid running down to the floor and—

“God damn, baby, ya drooling.” Two of his fingers strum your slit, getting his fingers all nice and shiny and creamy from your orgasm, feeling your cute little cunt pulse around them. 

Then—

You choke out a broken gasp when he slaps your pussy again, hearing the wet smack against his hand, and Atsumu’s voice comes out in a low drawl right after. “Turn around, love.” 

Your legs buckle when you do—your movements slow with that ache still there between your legs—

But Atsumu is right there—guiding you with gentle touches over your legs and hips—and the moment you’re facing him—

He gives you one, heated look—his eyes lowered and so murky with desire—before he captures your lips with his, and you exhale a sharp breath through your nose when you can taste yourself in his mouth. 

God. 

You kiss him back, though, a little sloppy with how muddled your head is, and you make these tiny sounds that Atsumu eagerly swallows up—while his hands move to squeeze your ass, then move down until they’re at the back of your thighs and—

“Lift up for me,” He mumbles against your mouth, and you follow almost immediately—one leg moving to wrap around his waist after the other—and you use your hold around his neck for support, kissing him with a small grunt when he lifts you to sit your ass on the edge of the counter. 

It causes the cool surface to brush against your bare pussy, pulling out a gasp from you, and Atsumu breathes heavily against you as he grinds his clothed bulge—god, it’s so fucking big—against your pussy, making you all dizzy with it. “‘M gonna fuck you, okay?” 

He kisses you again, his rough hands running up and spreading goosebumps over your legs until they just reach the part where your hips and thighs meet. “And you gonn’ take it like a good girl f’me, yeah?” 

You whimper with a small nod, kissing him and bucking your hips back at him almost impatiently. 

“Say it, baby.” 

Shit—

“O-okay,” You breathe out, too high off the bliss of your post-orgasm to care about the fact that he’s going to fuck you raw—

You don’t even realize he doesn’t have a condom on until he’s pulling his pants and underwear down to let his dick bounces free, and it slaps against your upper thigh—feeling so heavy and hot and smooth and—

Exposed—with his pre-cum leaking from the fat tip and onto your leg, making more of a mess on you. 

“Good,” Atsumu praises you, kissing you as he slides his thick cock through your pussy folds, getting it all nice and wet, before sliding in—pushing the fat tip through your hole so easily and he’s bottoming out in one, fluid motion. “So fuckin’ good, darlin’.” 

Your eyes roll back, and your legs around him tighten as he pulls out—only to roll his hips against you, making you feel the heat of his skin flush against yours as he fucks his cock into your needy walls. 

He fucks you with his hands pinning you down to the counter by your hips—making your body jolt with every thrust—and tiny, wet moans get punched out of you as your mouth hovers against his. 

It causes your juices to gush out with every rock of his hips, making a mess on the counter, as loud and wet squelches fill the kitchen to show just how wrecked you are. 

And it all just adds to the feverish warmth that’s flooding your clit and lower belly—that tension building until it’s ready to snap again with every brush against your g-spot and—

And you don’t realize the fingers around your throat until you feel a slight pressure in your head, and heat pressing against the sides of your neck. 

And when your eyes—all wide and glossy—flit up to meet Atsumu’s—

He’s already looking right at you, watching you, focused to see your reaction—as if he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop—while still fucking your sensitive pussy. 

But you don’t. 

Instead, you let out a moan in approval, your eyelids dropping in response, and your cunt clenches around his girth as you kiss him softly, panting against his mouth with a soft mutter. “Harder.” 

And god—hearing that does astronomical things to his head and dick. 

“Fuck,” You feel his groan vibrate against you, all low and throaty, as his fingers grow firmer around your delicate throat—and his pace picks up as he starts to get needier for your sweet pussy. “Don’ think ‘mma last long, baby.”

He doesn’t let you respond.

Not when he’s quick to hitch your legs higher—and he uses his hold around your throat to push you down until your back is flat against the counter’s surface, and your eyes blow wide with a woosh of your breath escaping your lungs. 

“Ya think you can keep all f’me inside you, sweetheart?” He asks, voice so sweet and cooing as if he isn’t fucking your guts and making you choke as his body hovers over you, and he’s smirking down at you as he takes in just how good his hand looks around your neck. 

“I want this pretty lil pussy to get messy, kay?” 

Your eyes roll back when the pressure under your jawline grows, making you feel light-headed, and—

You should feel somewhat alarmed with how easily he can choke you. 

To hold the power over your body just like that—with no effort whatsoever. 

He’s stronger than you.

So much bigger than you. 

And his hands and fingers are dominating and heavy but—

But all you do is look up at him in submission, all hazy and eyes shiny with lust as your fingers wrap around his wrist as support, laying there and taking his cock as another orgasm rips out of you. 

You trust him to never hurt you—to take things too far. 

He’s always knew just how far to take things with you—to dance on that delicate line of risk and pleasure for you. 

It only takes another few strokes inside you, your g-spot overstimulated, for you to cum around him, electrified and feel like you’re floating as he fucks your pussy—all puffy and abused as it squirts so much on his dick and the counter—

And nothing but the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin fills your ears, and your entire body shakes when Atsumu moans so desperately against you.

And his hand never leaves your throat, even as he kisses every inch of your face to soothe and praise you while you cry from your orgasm—and he’s following soon after with his hot cum filling you up till your pussy is leaking both of your fluids everywhere. 

Getting you all messy like he said you would. 

end ♡

Masterpost

[omisubi]

Kageyama has staring contests with your cat.

It usually only lasts a few minutes before your cat is leaping or walking away, even when Kageyama’s eyes are still on him. He had expressed to you that he always had an inkling cats did not like him very much, to which you insisted that isn’t true, that your cat just isn’t used to him yet.

Your cat is, however, used to and fond of your boyfriend’s volleyball cat toy he had purchased in hopes of winning some brownie points.

“He’s kind of like you if you were a cat,” you teased one time as you guys watched him play with it, also referring to your cat’s similar blue eyes and dark fur.

That just made Kageyama observe your cat more. Needless to say, the staring contests continue — occurrences of which you ignored, until now.

Today, it’s taking longer than usual and you sense that neither of your boys refuse to break eye contact, stormy gazes staying strong. And as amused as you are, you selfishly want some attention yourself.

“Tobio, let it go—“

You barely finish your sentence before you are both taken by surprise as your cat leaps off the coffee table, right into Kageyama’s lap, and proceeds to curl into a comfortable resting position.

You almost coo at the image, especially when Kageyama looks up at you with guileless awe, hand petting your purring void, and quietly exclaims, “He likes me.”

You smile, humming in agreement as you watch your home grow livelier. “Told ya so.”

[tetskuro]

iwaizumi knows it's never a good sign when he hears the snickering of his former teammates. he should've figured they were up to something when they tried every trick in the book to distract him into blindly following them to an undisclosed location. he belatedly realizes their scheming as he stands with you in the archway underneath the conveniently placed mistletoe dangling above.

you look up at the small plant and then at iwaizumi. "i knew there was something fishy when oikawa told me that you needed help tying your shoelaces and that you absolutely couldn't leave your spot."

curse these stupid christmas traditions, iwaizumi thinks. yet there's nothing he wants to do more than kiss you.

his eyes are glued to a particularly interesting spot on the wall, and his ears are as red as the berries adorning the mistletoe. how cute.

"are you sure? we don't have to do this—"

iwaizumi is interrupted by your lips against his own. the sweetness of the kiss nearly sends him into overdrive as he tastes eggnog and peppermint flavored chapstick. it's intoxicating—the way he loses his breath to you has him weak in the knees. he holds you with just enough pressure to confirm that he isn't dreaming but light enough to conceal his thinly veiled desperation.

when you pull away, iwaizumi's face is flushed, and you can only assume yours is too judging by the heat in your cheeks. he fidgets with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, a rare nervous habit of his, before speaking.

"i'd like to kiss you again," he says slowly once he regains the ability to form sentences. "without the mistletoe.. or the audience."

iwaizumi glares at his former teammates peeking around the corner, and they quickly scurry away but not before sending him some exaggerated winks and loud whistles.

you smile sweetly at him and his heart lurches in his chest. "i'd love that."

for more works, check out my masterlist

© tetskuro 2024. please do not repost or modify my work.

[sunarots]

how the haikyuu boys lift you

bridal style. gently sweeping their arms behind your legs, lifting you effortlessly off the ground and close to their chest. their hands keep a tight, comfortable hold on your body.

osamu. semi. daichi. meian. iwaizumi. aran. matsukawa.

the koala hug. their hands firmly on your thighs, your arms tightly around their neck to stay there. pressing his fingers into your skin in fleeting squeezes, feeling your breath against their neck.

suga. kenma. lev. ukai. kuroo. kita. hanamaki. sakusa. akaashi. takeda. kunimi.

piggyback. so excited every time you say you’re exhausted, instantly crouching before you in a silent invitation to climb on his back. arms looped around your legs to keep you there, never showing signs that he needs a break.

aone. bokuto. asahi. komori. tsukki. noya. goshiki. koganegawa. ushijima. yaku. omimi.

over-the-shoulder. finding you at the most inconvenient times, without warning grabbing your legs and hoisting you over his shoulder. pulling you from your focus to come face-to-face with his backside. hysterical laughter whilst you yell to be put down.

suna. osamu. atsumu. yamamoto. tanaka. tendou. kyotani. daisho. romero.

dirty dancing style. determined to lift you as high over his head as possible after seeing it in the movie. promising he can do it, each time managing to hold you in the air for the slightest bit longer. the proud laugh every time, convincing you to let him do it in many less than appropriate circumstances.

atsumu. oikawa. kageyama. hoshiumi. hinata. terushima.

extras::

oikawa knew instantly he could do the lift after seeing it and did it in public.

kageyama saw a clip of oikawa do it and was determined to try do it too.

hinata then saw kageyama do it and was also determined to do it.

tsukki pretends to be annoyed at you for wanting a piggyback but you have never asked for them.

[stunie]

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI X F!READER — sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ mild cw alcohol ﾉ 596 word count ﾉ og req ﾉ in which ushijima picks you up and takes you home after you’ve had a little too much to drink and accidentally overhears you talking about him to your friends . . .

“Ehh? You really think Toshi is scary?”

He stops in his tracks just inches away from your friend’s door. Ushijima was never really the type to eavesdrop like this, but for some reason, his body had decided that he should wait this one out and listen. Just for a little. “..Why’s that?”

Your words sound a little slurred. Though he already knew you would be like this to some extent as soon as he received a text from your friend asking him to come by and take you home.

“Well…” one of your friends speaks up. “He’s just kind of intimidating, you know?”

The little noise of confusion he hears from you paints a crystal clear image in his head. You’ve always made that sound whenever you tilt your head to the side a bit— as if doing that would help you understand better or something. “Hmm… intimidating..?”

You start laughing. As if it’s the funniest thing you’ve heard all day. He hears your laughter muffled under something and assumes you’ve moved to hug and snuggle up against one of your friends. “Toshi? He’s not… not at all.”

“He’s the sweetest soul alive. I can prove it.”

“Oh? Can you? Tell us then.” Your friend chuckles a bit when you start humming and sighing, and he thinks one of them has started rubbing your back. You’ve always loved that. You make the exact same noise when he does that too. “Sure.”

Ushijima’s lips curl into the faintest trace of a smile when he hears the way you giggle— like you’re ecstatic just by being asked to talk about him. You really like him that much?

“I don’t know where to start,” it’s clear you’re talking through a big smile, and it only makes it harder to understand you— but he can. “One time, my heel broke. And so.. he carried me for the entire night. We were…. were at a festival, you know.

“I was on his back for hours..!”

Oh. He remembers that. The two of you had gone to try out different food stands, and he would feed you by holding up the fork with a piece stuck on at the end. You’d lean down and take a bite like some kind of bird perched on his shoulder. He remembers feeling really happy that night.

“And…. this other time…” your laughter trails off, and he raises a brow. “I was really sad. I was crying, and you know what he did?”

Oh, now that sounds a little more personal. Ushijima decides that it’s finally time to take you home with that.

“What did he do? Oh— look who’s finally here.”

You and your friends all turn to look at him as soon as he enters the room, though it would be hard to miss someone like him in the first place. His first thought is that he was right about you cuddling up with one of your friends. Your arms are wrapped tightly around their middle, face resting on their lap, and you barely muster up the energy to turn to face him.

“Ehh….” It looks like sleepiness is finally starting to hit you now that you’re comfortable. “Toshi? Ah… I’m imagining things now… hi, Toshi’s ghost. I’m his girl…”

You smile at him. It’s a big, sleepy smile— and it still makes his heart skip a beat, even if he doesn’t seem to outwardly react to it.

“Let’s go home.” He’s gentle when he kneels down beside you, gesturing for you to return to your favorite spot on his back. “You need rest.”

[remuswriting]

TO KNOW EVERY SIDE OF YOU

twenty-six: we're friends

note: i accidentally deleted atsumu’s contact pic for hinata so he has a new one

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[kitasuno]

with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second. 

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun. 

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight. 

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says, 

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much? 

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother. 

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him. 

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him. 

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him. 

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts. 

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?” 

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule. 

He meets you for the first time in February. 

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession. 

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them. 

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r. 

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later. 

He sees you a lot the year after. 

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side. 

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch. 

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother. 

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation. 

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night. 

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. 

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his. 

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful. 

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him. 

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi. 

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.” 

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri. 

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.