#Stand up you’re so close to seeing kenma

[dira333]

Mom Friend - Kenma - pt 2

The room is vibrating with quiet conversations and the anticipation only a good game can bring.

Below, Hinata’s warming up. He knows exactly where you’re sitting and he waves excitedly before moving on in the line-up.

“Hey, you’re here already.” Kuroo smiles when he squeezes through, pulling you into a hug.

Behind him, Kenma comes shuffling in. You move to hug him, like you always do when you’re meeting in a group, though you barely touch this time. It’s a fake-out more than anything else.

“Have you been here long?”

“Hinata needed a ride,” you shrug your shoulders. “I had the car this weekend, so it wasn’t a problem.”

Kuroo whistles a mismatched tune. “Do you think they’re going to win?”

“Oh, for sure,” you smile up at him. “Like how can they not?”

You know you’re not the most knowledgeable when it comes to Volleyball. Most games one of the boys ends up explaining a play to you, but no one ever seemed to mind.

Today, though, you mind.

You know Kenma hasn’t told Hinata about that night, because Hinata’s the worlds worst liar. You’d be able to tell if he knew.

Kuroo, however, is an amazing liar. If he knows, and you suspect he does, he isn’t letting it slip.

His kindness feels forced to you now. Is he pitying you? 

“Did you get that?” He asks half an hour later when the referee waves his hands in a way you haven’t seen before.

The “no” is on the tip of your tongue but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“You don’t have to explain it,” you say instead, the words a little more biting than they should be. “It’s fine.”

Kuroo startles and behind him, you can see the concern in Kenma’s face. 

You can’t stand it anymore, being this close to him, and get up.

“I need to use the toilet,” you rush out. “Lady problems.”

The line is short. 

But you sit on the cold toilet seat for fifteen minutes, scrolling through Tiktok until your heartbeat settles and you feel ready to go back out again.

You’ll have to apologize to Kuroo in some way if you want to save this friendship.

Though is there a way to save it? Should you, even? 

-

“Did you see my spike?” Hinata asks later, hair damp from the game, towel slung around his neck. “Did you?”

You’re not sure which one he means, but you nod and you fawn over him like you usually do. 

But then he’s gone, gone for a quick shower, and you’re left to wait around.

“You good?” Kuroo asks and you can feel your spine stiffen, from the top all the way down to the bottom.

“Yes,” you tell him, though your eyes stay on the floor. A quick check, Kenma’s shoes are nowhere to be seen. At least he’s not here to witness this. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I don’t want your pity.”

Kuroo quiets. He’s usually someone who moves a lot, squiggles his foot, or taps his thigh, but he’s motionless right now, at least the lower part of him that you can see. Nothing is going to make you lift your eyes up. You don’t want to see his face.

“Did something happen last week?”

You hesitate.

“Nothing happened.”

“Are you sure? Kenma said you watched the movie and went out for dinner after like we usually do. He said you didn’t talk much, that it was quiet, but if it’s something about Kenma-”

“Why does it have to be about Kenma?” You lift your eyes now, want to see his face. He looks concerned. Too soft. 

He reminds you of yourself. How did Kenma call it? Bothering people. 

“Maybe it was something at work. Or it’s because I’m on my period. Or I’m just having a bad day. Maybe some creep tried to hit on me and I’m weirded out by that. Why do you automatically assume that it’s about Kenma?”

Kuroo’s quiet for a moment. “You usually react differently to Kenma being around.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug. “Things change.”

He looks pained but he doesn’t pry anymore. You can’t help but think that he’ll ask Kenma about it later. That Kenma will tell him the truth, eventually, because they’ve been friends longer than anyone you know. 

You force yourself to smile. This might be the last time you see Kuroo in a while.

“I’m just being weird,” you promise him. “A girl has to be weird sometimes.”

“Okay,” he nods and you stay there, silent, until Hinata comes back.

- - -

“Hey.”

You look up from your desk. Kuroo’s standing in the doorway, shirt pushed up to the elbows, his hair defying gravity as usual. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen him. 

Work has kept you busy. You’ve got other friends too, though Hinata has been pretty good at calling you up.

“Hey,” you hesitate for a second. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I was in the area and remembered you work here. Do you wanna get lunch together?”

You hesitate. 

“Just checking in on you,” Kuroo promises. “Don’t be a stranger?”

You sigh. “Fine.” 

-

“Kenma hasn’t told me anything, by the way,” Kuroo tells you as he separates his chopsticks. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Why would I be worried about that?”

He chuckles. “You’re pretty good at deflecting, has anyone told you that before?”

“And you’re a mother-hen, has anyone told you that before?”

“Yeah,” he stuffs an egg roll into his mouth and nods. 

“How do you deal with that?” You ask, pushing the rice around your bowl for a moment before taking a bite. 

Kuroo shrugs. “I like being this way. If I step on somebody’s toes, I apologize of course, and try to stay clear of that, but in the end… it’s who I want to be, so why change?”

You consider that, but it’s not that easy. 

Nothing really ever is when there are feelings involved.

“We’re having a movie night next weekend,” Kuroo adds gently when your bowl is almost empty. “I’m formally inviting you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I want to. I like having you around. We,” he corrects himself with a grin. “Like having you around.”

“Who’s we?”

“Bokuto, of course, and where’s Bokuto there’s Akaashi. Atsumu invited himself and he’s bringing Osamu, so there’s food involved. I think Hinata managed to rope Sakusa in, but that’s always a little debatable.” He stops. “I just realized they’re all just guys, so I’m counting on you to invite a few girls.”

“Are you using me to find your friends some girlfriends?”

“Why, is it working?”

- - -

It’s no surprise that Kenma’s not showing up to movie night. He’s not a big fan of crowds, you know, and there’s always a crowd when Atsumu is concerned.

It’s a good thing you end up going because you end up setting Emi up with Osamu - completely on accident - and as Hinata figures out he’s allergic to some weird European drink you’re the only one with antihistamine pills in your possession.

-

“Do you always come this prepared?” Sakusa asks, hiding out in the kitchen where it’s calmest. 

“I guess,” you reply, preparing yourself for another sting.

“I like that,” Sakusa hums. “Do you have hand sanitizer?”

“Sure,” you pull it out of your purse. “Scented or unscented?”

“Unscented please.” He offers his palm and thanks you quietly when you squeeze out the liquid. 

“You can call me Kiyoomi,” he adds after a moment of silence. “Just don’t tell Miya.”

You smile. “This is what being knighted must feel like.”

Kiyoomi taps your forehead. “Don’t get too cocky or I’ll revoke your rights.”

-

“Are you coming to the cinema this weekend?” Hinata asks after a game, eyelids already fluttering with exhaustion. “It’s that one movie you said you wanted to watch.”

“Sure,” you tell him, ushering him forward, waving at Kiyoomi whose car’s a little further down in the parking lot. “Who did you invite?”

“Everyone,” Hinata yawns. “Can you drive? Key is in my-”

“Wallet, I know.” You pull it out of the bag he’s carrying. “If you invited everyone, surely you wouldn’t miss me.”

Hinata furrows his brows. “That’s not true.”

It’s sweet, but you wonder about it sometimes still. 

It’s the age-old question, isn’t it? Do you like me because you need me or do you need me because you like me?

You think you’ve grown, in these last few months. 

You like the way you are. Not the smartest and not the dumbest. Over-prepared and over-caring. 

But you’ve also recognized that you’re a friend and not a mother.

That you want a partner, not a child. 

“I’m good,” you tell Hinata when you reach his apartment complex. “But thanks for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

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Mom Friend - Kenma pt one two three

[galaxynajma]

I’ve read only two chapters of haikyuu today …

[4unnyr0se]

Haikyuu characters catching you masterbating ?

❥ caught ya! | haikyuu guys catching you pleasuring yourself

warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader mentions of masturbation (duh), jealously, fingering, teasing, voyeurism, toy usage, lewd language

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 650

a/n: hopefully i assigned the characters correctly

got a request? my asks are open!

❥ They think it's cute

He walks in on you, knuckle-deep in your soaked pussy, panties hastily pushed aside as you plunge your fingers into your dripping heat over and over again. You were too preoccupied with fucking yourself on your fingers that you didn’t even notice how the door to your bedroom closed, your boyfriend crossing his arms in amusement as he leaned against your dresser. He observes how his name falls from your lips like a broken prayer, your nose sniffling pathetically as you try too hard to rip an orgasm out of you. But sadly, your fingers were no match for his own, and they never will be. You squealed in delight as you finally hit that sweet spot that you so craved, only to have your moment of bliss interrupted by your boyfriend's gentle cooing.

“Did my baby miss me while I was working, hm? Don’t worry, sweet thing. I’ll just stand here and watch. Go on, try to make yourself cum without my help. You’re so fucking adorable, my precious angel.”

SUGAWARA, kuroo, yaku, ennoshita, UKAI, semi, hanamaki, kenma, OSAMU, kita

❥ They think it's stupid

He hears your oh-so-familiar moans behind your shared bedroom and busts in without a second thought. Who the hell was ripping those perfect noises from your pretty lips without his permission? Why, was it you, of course! A bullet vibration practically danced on your throbbing clit while your legs were spread like a slut, your slit drenching the innermost part. Your perfectly manicured hand squeezed your breast, your thumb rolling over your nipple whilst your pearly whites bit down on your bottom lip, hips bucking into the air on occasion. His eyes filled with fury as he ripped the vibrator off your clit, earning an annoyed moan from your slutty mouth.

“What the fuck is this, hm? You seriously couldn’t wait for me to get back so I could fuck you? Who the hell needs this stupid toy when you have me? That’s it. Get on all fours. Right now, don’t fucking test me.”

kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, kyoutani, IWAIZUMI, atsumu, suna, sakusa, ushijima, daichi

❥ They're completely starstruck

Oh, fuck. They have absolutely no idea what to do. He’s fantasized about this so much, and it’s finally fucking happening. He caught you bouncing on a dildo you had bought yourself, whimpering as the silicone head hit every spot so perfectly deep inside your gummy walls. His eyes landed on your pretty fingers, desperately swirling your clit, beads of sweat flying off your forehead. You looked so fucking ethereal, he had to say something. He just had to let you know how fucking pretty you looked!

“Holy fuck, you look so fucking pretty. Can you keep going for me, please? I wanna see you cum over and over again, please, baby girl. I’ll fuck you as much as you want, just put on a good show for me. God, you’re perfect.”

HINATA, yamaguchi, asahi, GOSHIKI, oikawa, akaashi, takeda, TANAKA

❥ They join you

His ears perk up once he hears you mewling in pleasure from your bedroom, eagerly slamming the door open to reveal your hands fucking a vibrating bullet in and out of your weeping cunt, the sheets beneath you a filthy mess. He smirks and practically pounces on the bed, not even bothering to shut the door as he peppers your face in a million kisses. You always look so pretty when you wanna get yourself off. What if he fucked his fist in tandem with you? That's the best idea ever.

“Shit, don’t stop just for me, baby. Let’s cum at the same time, yeah? You wanna fuck yourself with that cute bullet I got you while I fuck my fist to the sight of your pretty tits? C’mon, don’t say no! It’ll be fun, I promise! Then I’ll fuck you nice and good afterward, okay? Thank you, pretty baby.”

nishinoya, BOKUTO, konoha, matsukawa, TENDOU, terushima, yamamoto, lev

[revasserium]

to win and to lose

kenma, tsukki, hinata, kageyama; 3,200 words; fluff, lapslock, no "y/n", kissing, slightly!suggestive content, but mostly just tooth-rotting fluff, domestic bliss, post!timeskip characters, pro-streamer!kenma, olympics athlete!hinata, pouty!tsukki, and needy!kageyama

summary: you win some, you lose some, right?

a/n: truly just a few drabbles that came to my mind when i was sitting in a bath the other day; so pls enjoy some hq-flavored domesticity

kenma

“— alright chat, that’s it for today — i’ve got uh —” kenma glances over at the top of his collection of monitors at where you’re standing, holding two beers, a sly grin twisting the corner of your mouth. even in the strange blue light of his monitors, you can see his cheeks darken.

“— some stuff to do. see ya!” he ends the stream just as you round the massive table to set a beer down in front of him. he chuckles and reaches out to pull you into his lap, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a sigh.

“hey there, mr. ceo.” you smirk, twisting round to run your fingers through his hair, tugging out the loosening hair tie and cocking your head. kenma huffs, crinkling his nose, shaking his head as you continue to comb through his hair with your fingers.

“i hate it when you call me that.”

“mm, then… what would you prefer? mr… streamer boy? mr. stock trader? oh — i’ve got it! mr. simp-man.”

kenma scoffs, jerking forward so that you’re trapped against the hard edge of his gaming desk, his arms locking you to him. he’s grown since high school, but even so, his lithe build betrays the strength still hidden within his limbs from the endless hours of training, of playing.

“there’s no winning against you, is there?” he asks, his voice muffled by your skin, and you bite back a groan at the way he’s trailing his lips along the hard ridge of your collarbones. he peers up at you, a sharp, feline glint to his eyes, a hand reaching out to set your half-drunk beer on his table before hoisting you up with one arm. you squeak, the gesture taking you by surprise even as he carries you to the futon set up in strategically in the corner of the game room, put there for the nights when you’d lie there and watch him stream, when you’d close your eyes and let the rgb lights flicker across the backs of your eyelids like the northern lights, like so many midnight rainbows.

“well… seeing as you’re winning in so many other aspects in life,” you say, your voice nothing more than a sigh as he lays you down, fingers already tugging at the thin straps of your dress, “a little losing here and there might do you good, hm?”

“mm…” kenma hums, contemplative, even as he leans back and runs an appraising eye down the length of your body, “i mean… i did let kuroo talk me into joining the volleyball club back in highschool so… i guess you can say… in my own way… i’m sort of a sucker for punishment.”

tsukki.

“ah… that looked like a brutal practice,” you say, peering around the bathroom door. the sound of water splattering down skin echoes wetly through the enclosed space.

“aren’t they all?” tsukishima drawls, setting down the large wooden bath ladle to squint at you through the hazy mist. his glasses lie fogged and forgotten, set to the side.

you smile, slipping into the room with a fresh towel.

“i’ve got miso soup being warmed on the stove and an icepack in the freezer. take your time though — o-oh!”

a pair of arms reaches out to pull you down, and you barely catch yourself on the edge of the large wooden bath.

“t-tsukki! what —”

“it was a brutal practice.”

you barely hear the smirk in his voice as he sighs and props his chin on your thigh, the water from the bath staining you thin dress in seconds. you fight the urge the roll your eyes, reaching down to run your fingers through his damp hair, absently massaging at his scalp.

its rare to see him like this — rarer, even, to see him so openly vulnerable, even if there’s still the barest hint of a tease lurking beneath the tired rhythm of his voice, his breathing. like this, his long lashes are daggered into points by the steam, his normally pale skin made even more so by the bright bathroom lights.

through the water, you can see the new bruises blossoming along his thin legs, the old ones barely fading. thoughtlessly, you lean in and dip your hand in the water to trace a finger along one particularly large one at his right knee.

“what happened?” you ask, though you basically already know the answer — practice for a v2 league team happened. still, tsukishima glances down at the bruise with an oddly disembodied gaze and shrugs.

“dunno. dove to save a ball a few times.”

you laugh, tilting your head to one side as he leans back to press his cheek to your now damp thigh.

“wow, in practice? other team must’ve really pissed you off.”

at this, tsukishima crinkles his nose and scoffs. you hike an expectant eyebrow and wait.

“the jackals were over for a practice match.” his voice is clipped, but you feel your own laughter bubbling up in seconds. of course.

you bite back a giggle, “and… did you guys win?”

he glares up at you, eyes narrowed, “they’re a division one team. what do you think?”

“hm… but i thought hinata’s been off with a rolled ankle so…”

again, he scoffs, “that team’s plenty of other players who are just as annoying.”

you clamp down on your bottom lip, “wow. high praise.”

he whacks at the surface of the bath, splattering your dress even as you break into a bright peal of laughter. you reach down to flick him with a bit of water as well but he catches you wrist in his, fingers wrapping around your arm, the warm bath water slicking down your skin in thin rivulets, dripping off your elbow. you gasp, heart suddenly thrumming behind your eardrums.

the lopsided, slightly sadistic smile that slits his lips is stomach-twistingly familiar.

“tsukki… there’s miso soup —”

“mm. think i want something else for dinner instead.”

the low murmur of words is the only warning you get before you’re pulled bodily into the warm bath, the water soaking your dress, making the material cling to your skin in seconds. you squeak against his lips, rough and insistent and just a little pleading. you know it’s futile to struggle, so you let him kiss you, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as you groan, your fingers finally finding purchase along the slick skin of his shoulder.

“you — you’ve ruined my — my favorite dress…”

“hn.”

tsukishima doesn’t look at all bothered by your admonishment, shrugging, “it’ll dry.”

water sloshes over the side of the bathtub, now dangerously full with the both of you soaking in it’s steaming depths.

“was it really that bad?” you ask, affecting your voice into a soft coo, trailing wet fingers over the soft of his cheeks.

“if i say yes,” he asks, peering down at you as a lepidopterist might study a new specimen of rare, and newly captured butterfly, “would you try to make me feel better?”

you lick your lips, feeling your mouth go dry, despite being literally submerged in water.

“depends,” you say, “on if you’ll let me go turn off the stove first — wouldn’t want the miso soup to burn.”

tsukishima rolls his eyes, fingers tightening around your wrists, pulling you closer. there’s a dangerous light flickering behind his eyes; a dull ache pulses at the base of your stomach, singeing up your spine as you tip forward for another long kiss.

“thought i said already… i don’t think i really want miso soup for dinner anymore.”

hinata.

there’s a certain magic in watching him play — the way he treats every win like his first, or his last. the way the world seems brighter right around his edges, as if his own shimmer and shine might infect the universe if it would only let him.

he is incandescent with joy after the olympic qualifier games — scoring a ticket is no mean feat, and it’s not every day that you see bokuto cry.

“congrats, shouyou!” you’re one of the first to greet him after the press stint (and a shower), but you can still see the brilliant, glazed look to his eyes that tells you he’s still riding his high. his smile is wide enough to split the sky as he spots you, jogging over to hoist you up into his arms, spinning you round with almost comical ease.

“haha — thanks!”

he leans up for a kiss, one that’s sweet as it is heady. when you pull apart, you are still weightless, and his smile shines like a smile on pause — it makes you want to unpause it, and watch it unfurl.

you trace the pads of your thumbs along the tiny freckles dotting his cheekbones — souvenirs from his time in brazil.

“so! are you gonna come watch us?” he asks, making to walk down the decidedly not deserted hallway with you still in his arms. you blush at the thought, giving his shoulders a slight squeeze.

“shouyou… you can put me down now — and of course i’ll come! it’s not everyday that your boyfriend makes it to the olympics.”

several people chuckle as they watch him parade passed, you still firmly held aloft, your elbows propped on his shoulders to give you some semblance of balance. your cheeks burn as hinata hums, waving at a fellow teammate, reaching out for a fist bump.

“shou…” you fight the urge to bury your face in his shoulder as he finally rounds a corner into a much more private hallway. he grins, completely unabashed, as he pushes through an unmarked door to a what seems to be an empty locker room. it’s sparse, but well-lit and quiet.

“hm?”

he sets you down on one of the benches and drops a quick kiss onto your shoulder.

“i could’ve walked…”

“didn’t feel like putting you down,” he says, his voice dropping in register and taking on that darker, baser veneer — you hear the frayed edges, the sandstone texture, a tell-tale sign of a deep-seated hunger. a very specific brand of shouyou-flavored want.

“n-ngh —” you make a soft noise as he dips down to nuzzle into the dip of your collarbone, a tiny groan festering up the back of his throat as he sighs.

“been thinking about this…” his fingers dance up your sides, light enough to tease, but solid enough to remind you of just how close you both are to a ruthless press and the oogling public.

“sh-shou let’s wait —”

hinata whines, shaking his head, his hair tickling at the skin of your neck, “don’t wanna.”

and you sigh, weighing the option of pushing back or giving in. each has dangers and merits, but you know better than most that when hinata gets like this, indulgence is usually the only answer that will satisfy.

“plus… i just won a ticket to the olympics! don’t you think that deserves some kind of —” he casts around for a good enough word, pulling back with a smile that, in the right kind of slanted, locker room light, might just look like a smirk, “reward?”

you cock your head and blink up at him, letting your fingers tangle in the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, “what? the olympics ticket wasn’t enough of a reward for you?”

at this, hinata pouts, pushing his bottom lip out far enough for you to lean forward and bite it. the movement makes him groan, his whole body tipping forward to cage you back against the row of cool, metal lockers.

“you shouldn’t do that if you don’t think you can finish the job,” he says, pulling back just far enough for the heat of his breath to fan across your spit-slick lips. you lave your tongue across them, shifting beneath him as he cocks his head to stare down at you, his eyes wide and dark and misty.

“and… what job might that be?” you ask, breathless even as he dips down again to catch your lips in his, reaching down to tug you bodily up the length of the lockers before pinning you in place. once upon a time, it was easy to forget how strong he is — but now, it’s even easier to spot the stretch and flex of muscle beneath his sun-kissed skin, feel the strength of them as he holds you still with a single hand, the other tugging down the neckline of your top.

“mm… the job —” he skims his teeth across your skin; you gasp, eliciting a small, satisfied chuckle from him, “of being an olympic athlete’s girlfriend, of course!”

kageyama.

it is never the losing, and always the aftermath, and by now, you know the shades and slivers of all his specific kinds of silences so intimately that you know without him having to say how the practice match had gone.

“hey.”

you greet him by the door with a soft, placatory kiss. he grunts, toeing off his shoes before dipping down to wrap both his arms around you and pull you close. you let out a breathy laugh as you feel his nose digging into the curve of your shoulder.

“want some dinner?” you ask, reaching up to stroke his sweat-soaked hair even though you already know the answer.

“later,” he says, making no sign of wanting to let you go. instead, when you try to pull away, he leans down and scoops you up to place you on top of the kitchen island, slotting himself between your knees, and re-burying his face in your shoulder.

“then…” you let your voice trail off, feeling the exhaustion pour off him in waves. you dig your fingers into the tense line of his shoulders and feel them tighten up before they fall slack again. for a few minutes, he contents himself with letting you massage the worst of the knots from his shoulders.

“hn.” he lifts his head only to lean forward and find your lips with his. the kiss is slow and just a bit tired — as sweet as it is thorough. in the beginning, you’d worried that dating someone like kageyama would end up being the kind of short-lived thing that all the tabloids and magazines had warned you about — that he might grow bored after a week, a month, maybe half a year. after all, someone like him, with that insatiable need for more wouldn’t be suited for the kind of so-called ‘domestic bliss’ as it’s prescribed of most long-term relationships. but he’d surprised you, in more ways than one. he’d not only not grown bored, but had seemingly become ever more… entranced.

the pair of you had grown into each other, each day steadily getting closer. until the space the two of you shared became so inextricably linked there’s no telling who’s breath was caught in each of your lungs, of who’s scent it was that lingered in the fine linen lining of all your pillows and sheets. it’s become your’s. in the most cliche way possible.

kageyama contents himself with kissing you, breaking for small breath, and then kissing you some more. one kiss falling into another, and another, and another. till you’re breathless in just way he likes, till he’s breathless, in the way that he gets sometimes during a particularly intense rally. he knows he’s sweat-sticky and probably stinks of the gym, but the way you smile up at him when he pulls away makes his whole body go soft.

“let’s take a shower before dinner,” you say, tracing a finger along the shell of his ear. he bites back a frown.

“not a bath?”

you laugh, shrugging, “we could — but the food’ll go cold.”

“we’ve got a microwave.”

you smile, a smile that inspires — no, demands — another kiss. and so he does. you make a tiny, exasperated noise but don’t make to pull away. kageyama reaches down to pick you up, settling your thighs on either side of his hips as he maneuvers the pair of you towards the bathroom.

“food’ll be there when we’re done,” he mutters, gently placing you down on the side of the bathtub and reaching over to turn on the hot water. the steam rises in thick sheets from the surface of the water, and already, kageyama can feel his limbs loosening at the thought of a nice, long soak. he catches you watching as he strips off his practice clothes.

“see something interesting?” his voice is so measured you’d never know he’s teasing, save for the tiniest hint of mischief in his eyes. you blush and look away, tugging off your own clothes in an attempt to distract yourself. the water sloshes around his ankles as he steps into the bath, and you join him a second later, curling up against his chest as he winds his arms around you, the pair of you settling against each other like nesting spoons, cut perfectly for each other’s every bend and curve. or perhaps like russian dolls, one encasing the other — wholly and completely.

“when’s practice tomorrow?” you ask, turning to watch him lean back, his eyes falling shut to the soft trickle of water over skin. you know the answer, and so does he. but he shifts and answers you anyway.

“not till noon.”

“good,” you say, turning back to rest your head on his shoulder, “we can have a proper breakfast.”

“we always have a proper breakfast.”

you laugh, absently walking your fingers up the length of his bent leg, drawing tiny circles on his exposed knee, poking out of the water like a pale island amidst the green-tinted water.

“i can grill mackerel tomorrow — i’ll have the time.”

outside, the moon is white and full with love, the sky bloated with countless shimmering stars. inside the gentle quiet of your home, kageyama leans forward to trail a kiss to the bend of your bare shoulder; you reach back to cup his cheek. when he turns your face for yet another kiss, it is sleepy and happy, long and lazy. full, weighted, soaked through with the kind of surrender only known to those who love and are in love.

“the food’ll really be cold —” you gasp, twisting away from kageyama’s growingly insistent lips, “if we keep going like this.”

he makes a slightly irked noise before caging you back against him with a deep frown, “you said so yourself — we’ve got time tomorrow. so —” he leans in to bump his nose against yours, waiting for permission. you chew on your lips for a second longer before conceding. and he’s right — isn’t that what microwaves are for?

[haikyu-mp4]

it’s a rainy day at summer camp. one of the few evenings that greeted you with bad weather instead of the setting sun, and the result was Fukurodani’s volleyball team gathered around a small tv and taking turns in a Mario Kart tournament.

you walked into the room with an order from the coach to tell everyone to quiet down, and was intrigued by the choice of game and their lack of talent in it. “you guys suck.”

everyone who wasn't playing at the moment turned abruptly, some squinting suspiciously and some laughing. “think you could do better?”

and so you were thrown into the tournament, and oh boy did you knock them off their pedestals. they didn’t stand a chance.

it earned you almost everyone’s desserts from dinner the day after, and you happily munched on pudding cup after pudding cup while they pouted about it. you shared plenty of them with the other girls as well, and you all enjoyed their defeat thoroughly.

fast forward one year later, Bokuto has made friends with Nekoma’s captain, making Fukurodani and Nekoma closer than they were with the other teams.

when Bokuto is particularly annoyed with Kuroo’s taunting after he missed some spikes in a practice game, he challenges him to a round of Mario Kart after dinner. Fukurodani vs Nekoma, choose your fighter style.

Kuroo walks into Fukurodani’s room that evening, carrying Kenma along while the setter is still playing on his console and not even paying attention. the captain looks smug, confident in his best friend’s ability to win. until he sees Bokuto standing with his arms crossed and shielding their chosen fighter.

a couple of the others from Nekoma’s team had joined, curious as to why Bokuto would challenge them in video games when he knew Kenma was there. “why do you look so smug?” Kuroo asks suspiciously.

“because we brought our secret weapon,” he answered, dramatically moving to the side and gesturing towards you. you sat patiently on a pillow, waving at the other team and smiling brightly.

“hi, guys!”

Kuroo laughed, letting go of Kenma and waving back at you. “y/n, fancy seeing you here.”

Bokuto rudely pressed his hand into Kuroo’s face. “none of that, don’t distract our player before the match!”

and while they fought, Kenma sat down beside you, finally turning off his console as you held out the other controller for him. “making me second player, hm?” you laughed at his remark, nodding.

“home base is always first player,” you teased. Konoha patted you on the back and smirked at Kenma.

“you don’t stand a chance.”

he did stand a chance. it was a close race, and you must admit you broke a sweat using every little trick you could think of.

however, it was just a chance. one he didn’t master, and you ended up with a clear victory after a mystery box gifted you with three glorious red shells on the second round, ruining any head start he might have gained.

the whole of Fukurodani’s team got up and cheered, many shaking your shoulders or ruffling your hair to praise your efforts. you looked to the side, ready to taunt Kenma a bit, but he was already staring at you. his catlike eyes made you flustered, and you quickly looked away. “I’m going to bed. good game, Kenma!”

Kenma watched the highlight reel after you left, and Kuroo had to practically drag him out of there as he could barely accept his loss. red shells don’t always mean you win. how you use them matters, and you use them perfectly. the way you drifted as well was beyond any technique he had seen before in real life.

the day after, Kenma comes over to you table with his dessert as a peace offering, and sits down across from you with his head down. “so you’re a gamer, what else do you play?”

“not really a gamer, my cousin just always brought Mario Kart for family holidays.”

Kenma stared at the table for two minutes in silence as you continued eating your lunch and chatting with your team’s other managers until he finally broke out of his trance. “can you teach me?”

“sure, catboy.” you were already eating the pudding cup, giving him a teasing wink now that he seemed so shy. this was the start of a blooming friendship.

masterlist

/when me n @cottonlemonade start brainstorming, great things happen

/this is a drabble in my head but it’s way too long for that… also, what do you think nekoma owes fukurodani after losing??

[volleychumps]

HEY, HEY, HEY!! I love your Haikyuu fics, so I was wondering if you could make a fic where the reader is an absolute simp for the boys and shows her lovesickness no matter what, she'd have nosebleeds, compliments them every single time, has literal albums and photos of them everywhere on their phone or at home, she always treats them like kings, etc. The boys could be Bokuto, Akaashi Kuroo, Kenma, Kags, Tsuki, Miya Twins, Sakusa, Ushijima, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Yamaguchi, Tendou if possible

*you can choose from these if you can't write for them all, i dont mind :>

*you can also make them fem or g/n, whichever your comfortable with

- I suddenly remembered that i loved ur reader wears their jerseys fic, so i was wondering if you can make smth like that. But no pressure!! Have a great dayyy💗💗

When You're a Hardcore Simp (w/ Bokuto, Kageyama, Sakusa, and Iwaizumi) x Fem! Reader

HAHA WHAT UP GANG- wait sorry if this isn't as good as my usual stuff, let's see if I can ease back into it <3

warning(s): manga spoilers!!! In Bokuto and Sakusa's. Mention of slight blood in Bokuto's. (like a nosebleed)

Bokuto

“Y/N, you’re embarrassing. Since when were you a loser?”

You dab at the dark red liquid under your nose, a satisfied smile on your face as the owlish-haired man spikes a cross-spike across the court in an astonishing manner, the crowds of people in awe at the ace’s movements. Your eyes trace his broad shoulders, the black uniform stretched to fit his body handsomely with a confident tinge in his golden eyes. His arms-

You sigh dreamily, Kuroo Tetsurou rolling his eyes from next to you as Bokuto leaps in joy, slapping Hinata on the back and bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“Jealousy is a disease, Tetsurou.” You don’t let the tall raven-haired boy damper your mood, wondering how you got so lucky as Bokuto drinks in the cheers from the audience. Kuroo rolls his eyes, reaching in his gym bag for a pack of tissues before offering you one as he leans on the railing. You accept it, taking your eyes off the love of your life momentarily to tilt your head upwards. 

“At least I don’t act like a perv in public.” Kuroo snips, eyeing you carefully as you glare at your long-term friend from high school. “Hey, are you okay? This isn’t normal, you know.”

“I’m good.” 

“You sure about that?” Kuroo nods at the court, and your eyes meet Bokuto’s golden irises all the way from where you’re standing near the upper-railing as a grin stretches across his handsome features, closing his eyes while waving in your direction with both of his arms in large gestures. Your eyes fill with adoration again, turning away quickly as the blood flow increases out of your nose.

“Nope! I take it back, my heart can’t handle this.” 

Kuroo scoffs, practically seeing hearts in your eyes as Bokuto wilts on the court as you turn your back to him. 

“Is Y/N avoiding me?” He frowns as Atsumu snickers, Sakusa shaking his head in slight disgust and disbelief at how unbelievably down bad you were. Atsumu points into the crowd with a smirk, Bokuto’s eyes lighting up at the sight of you leaning across the railing with your hands cupped to your mouth. 

“I LOVE YOU KOUTAROU!!!!” Your voice booms among the cheers of the audience, but Bokuto hears it so clearly. Kuroo is holding your waist back in annoyance at the attention you were getting from onlookers nearby, keeping you from falling off the railing. Bokuto’s eyes sparkle as he laughs at the dramatic kisses you were blowing in his direction. “YOU’RE SO HANDSOME-!” 

“I LOVE YOU MORE BABY!!!” He’s giddy, warmth evident in his features as his manager palms his face in absolute exhaustion. Hinata waves excitedly to both you and Kuroo as Sakusa and Atsumu raise a single hand in greeting. Talk about a PR disaster. 

Your cheers are loud in his ears as the Black Jackals take the final set, and Bokuto looks as handsome as ever with sweat trickling down his temple, his arms bulging with heavy use as he winks at you from up in the stands. You squeal when he motions to the passes around yours and Kuroo’s neck to come down for special access to the court. 

“I take it back.” Kuroo is annoyed and exhausted as you leap into the Ace’s arms with a squeal, Bokuto catching you by the thighs as you wrap your legs around his middle section in a passionate kiss, obviously unable to keep your hands off each other. 

“You’re both losers. Get a room before the press attacks.” 

Kageyama

“Stop wasting your money, Y/N.” Kageyama chastises you quietly, a box of white milk tapping the edge of his desk as your little school girl skirt takes the seat in front of him, an easy smile on your features as the tips of his ears burn a bright pink. 

“Waste?” You frown, tilting your head a little bit with your cheek in your palm. “Why is it a waste if my baby likes it?” 

Kageyama’s cheeks flare up next, obviously short-circuiting as you withhold a giggle, Hinata watching the exchange with a slight pout on his lips. 

“So cruel, Y/N-chan, you’re breaking our setter.” The orange-haired first year complains. “And you didn’t get me anything!”

“You know I’d never forget you, Sho.” You roll your eyes, a can of orange juice hitting the edge of Hinata’s desk yet as his eyes brighten tenfold, excitedly popping open the beverage as Kageyama embarrassedly distracts himself by sticking the straw into the box. You smile a little knowing grin as he refuses to meet your eyes, but it’s obvious it became less special to him when you got one for his idiot friend as well.

Casually, you reach a hand out to grab Kageyama’s hand as he internally combusts at the actions, holding a conversation with Hinata in the midst of it as you play with the tips of his fingers. 

Kageyama’s jaw slackens, the softness of your hands making his head spin in a good way before you make eye contact with him. You looked at him with so much love in your eyes, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“Break time’s over! I’ll see you later, Sho.” You grin at your friend as Kageyama looks at you in expectation, and you try not to coo at the hopefulness in his blue irises before leaning down, kissing his cheek softly and so sweetly even Hinata has to look away with a blush. 

“I’ll see you later, Tobio.” You cup his cheeks afterwards, kissing the tip of his nose for good measure before beginning to bounce off with a giggle. “Have a good practice later, okay?” 

Tobio sits there for a second before a puff of smoke almost visibly comes out of his head, cheeks a deeper red than ever before. Hinata groans, calling after you as you skip your way out of his classroom. 

“This time I really think you broke him Y/N-chan!” 

Sakusa

“Yer’ so down bad it’s laughable.” Osamu quips, and you look at him in false offense, sporting Sakusa’s jersey number as well as his number written on your cheek in black paint. The black jackals cap sitting atop your head tilted slightly to the side, as if you have no idea what the hell he was talking about. 

“I don’t know why you would think that.” 

“Don’t piss me off.” 

You laugh, Osamu humming in content as he lazily watches his brother get blatantly rejected by your boyfriend in his attempt of a double high five as the game nears its close. You bite back a smile at the subtle, knowing glance he sends your way, stomach fluttering in anticipation of seeing Sakusa after his game.

“Ya look like a crazy fan that he should get a restraining order against.” Osamu continues, nudging your shoulders as you pout. 

“Do you think it’s embarrassing? Maybe Omi thinks it’s silly?” You question the shop-owner, beginning to smudge off the ink on your cheeks as your mood dips, Osamu blinking once before beginning to feel a little bad he made you insecure. Instead, he clicks his tongue, reaching out to help clean up the now smudged mess on your cheeks.

“If yer’ gonna wipe it off, at least get it off all the way.” 

“No!” You exclaim with puffed out cheeks, astonished he would even offer as you take an abrupt step back. “Only Omi can touch my face.” 

Osamu blinks at you again in disbelief, slightly impressed at the public display of your loyalties at 100% before getting annoyed again. “Oi. Don’t make me out to be some sort of-” 

“Good girl.” Your eyes light up as Sakusa taps a hand on your head, scowling at the inky mess on your cheeks before meeting Osamu with a deadpan stare. “What happened to my jersey number?” 

Osamu’s eyes flit between the two of you as Atsumu can’t help but burst out laughing from the court below, the cook coming to a slow realization as Sakusa turns your head to the side with a slight pinch in your cheeks with one hand, a sanitizing wipe doing just the trick as you meet his seemingly indifferent stare with a look of pure adoration. 

He’s just as whipped as you are. 

Sakusa finishes ridding your cheeks of ink before tugging you along, bringing his mask up over his face as you hum giddily, smile etched into your features when he stops outside the locker room with an outstretched hand. 

“It’s not embarrassing?” Your voice is quiet as you look up at him with a hopeful glint in your eyes, putting the black paint marker into his hand as Sakusa rolls his eyes. He writes #15 in elegant strokes on your clean skin, laser focused, capping the marker after in satisfaction. 

“No.” His response is simple as he tugs down his mask to place a quick kiss on your eyelid, a heat warming your cheeks as Sakusa hesitates for a second before placing one on your lips as well, sending your heart soaring wildly. 

He’s already walking ahead of you as you stare after him in slight bewilderment for a second, already bounding up next to him as you slip your hand into his. 

“Thought it was too public for you, Omi.” 

“That’s your prize for not letting Miya touch what’s mine.” 

Iwaizumi

“Y/N’s rizz is unmatched, as always.” 

Matsukawa grins into his canned coffee at lunch time, watching as you somehow manage to get Iwaizumi to smile a bit in the selfie you were taking, a flirtatious wink in your eye as your hand cups his cheek lovingly. Iwaizumi nods in quiet approval at the bento you had made for him, shooting you a small loving look he only reserves for you before tugging you into his lap casually. 

“I still don’t understand how Iwa pulled someone as adoring as Y/N.” Hanamaki whistles lowly, Oikawa nodding in agreement with a grin. 

“She’s such a simp.” 

“We’re sitting right here, what the hell.” You glare a little bit at the three of them as Iwa matches your action, Oikawa almost laughing at the uncharacteristic expression on your face you obviously adopted from your boyfriend. 

“I’m not a simp!” You proclaim as Iwaizumi arches an eyebrow amusedly, but doesn’t say anything. “You can’t prove it.” 

“Turn your phone around.” Hanamaki doesn’t miss a beat, finishing off his own bento as you wilt a little, showing the clear phone case littered with heart stickers and a single polaroid photo of Iwaizumi overlooking a strawberry patch. Iwaizumi looks away to hold back his expression, but the guys could tell from his eyes he was pretty happy.

“Most girls do this.” 

“Uh-huh.” Matsukawa’s next, smirk beginning to tickle the edge of his lips. “What do you have his name under in your phone?” 

“Iwa.” 

“Why are you lying for fun.” Oikawa plucks the phone out of your hand, ignoring your whine of protests before showing the group your blatant lie. “I’m pretty sure this says ‘Future Handsome (DILF) Husband’”.

“See, that was a typo.”  But your cheeks give your poor lie away anyways, upset at how Iwaizumi begins to hide his grin in your neck and hold you a little tighter in his lap. 

“Is this not a whole album dedicated to your relationship with him- how the absolute hell do you have 600 images of him? I only have one and it’s from fourth grade!” Oikawa’s rant of complaints is cut off by you snatching the phone out of his grasp, before pushing off of Iwaizumi’s lap to run out of the room in embarrassment. Iwaizumi’s mood darkens, turning to his friends as Oikawa freezes up with a nervous grin on his face.

“Too far?” 

“You three are apologizing to her later.” Iwaizumi doesn’t leave room for comments, his tone changing drastically into a shy mutter as he stalks out of the classroom to go find you. 

“Even if she is a bit of a simp.” 

“You say that like you didn’t spend a year and half liking her, Iwa-chan!”

[noosayog]

003 an unexpectedly sweet valentine

❥ warnings/content: kuroo tetsuro x reader, sfw, slight angst if you squint, mostly fluff, jealousy

❥ wc: 3.4k

❥ valentine's masterlist, regular masterlist

“Good morning, senpai!” 

Your senior of one year turns around as he changes from his outside shoes to his inside shoes. “Huh? Oh, morning.” 

“It’s raining hard today, huh?” 

“Oh, yeah. Sure is.” 

“Did you bring an umbrella?” 

“Nah, forgot it.” 

“Aw, too bad! I remembered mine today!” 

“Good for you.” 

The conversation comes to a lull. Senpai stands there looking at you, as if to ask, anything else?

Somewhat awkward, you wave to him. “Have a good day, then!” 

He nods, turning away to make his way to his first class of the day. 

“Wowwww,” a voice from above you drawls. “That was a painful watch.” 

You swivel around to face Kuroo, your classmate. 

“Shut up, Kuroo,” you growl at him. 

“‘Morning Senpai! Have a good day Senpai!’” He mocks you in a high pitched voice. 

You give him a swift kick in the shins, satisfied when he bends over to cradle the spot. 

Kenma appears from behind him, shaking off the stray droplets clinging to his hair. “You deserved that.” 

“Morning, Kenma,” you snicker.

Kenma returns your greeting, heading off to his own class in the year below yours and Kuroo’s. 

A tap on your shoulder gets your attention. “Sorry about him. He’s just in a bad mood because of the rain.” 

“Kai-kun!” you greet. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for this idiot.” 

“Hey!” the idiot in question protests. 

Another head pops out from behind Kai. “What’s going on? Talking rooster head trash? That’s a conversation I can contribute to.”  

“Morning, Yakkun.” 

“Can we not talk about me like I’m not here?” Kuroo complains. 

“Shall we head to class?” Kai asks, easily ignoring him. 

“Yep!” 

“Hello? We’re all in the same class here!” Kuroo wails as he runs after the three of you.

In your homeroom, Kuroo, Yaku, and Kai all head to their seats as you take yours by the window. You greet your friends who sit by you, excited to ramble about your encounter with the cool Senpai from the basketball team whom you’ve recently developed a crush on.

“What do you like about that guy anyway?” your friend asks. 

“What do you mean? There’s so much to like!” 

She gives you a dubious look. “For example…?”

You start counting on your fingers. “Well, he’s captain of the basketball team, so he’s tall-”

“You like him because he’s tall?”

“He’s older, so he’s more mature-”

“Right,” she nods sarcastically. “Being a year older makes him so mature.” 

With two fingers up, you’ve run out of reasons. Your friend rolls her eyes at you. 

“Personally, I prefer the volleyball guys in our class.” 

“Kai-kun?” you nod empathetically. “I can totally see that. He’s kind and smart. Yakkun, too. He’s energetic and outgoing.” 

“Kuroo’s included in that group too, you know.” 

You wrinkle your nose. 

“What’s your beef with him? He’s tall, smart. Lots of people in our grade would say he’s funny too. He’s actually pretty popular.” 

You shake your head, “the most that guy has going for him is his friendship to Kenma. I can totally see someone getting close to him so that he’ll introduce them.” 

Your friend just shrugs patronizingly, like you’re beyond reasoning with. 

“Anyway,” you switch topics. “Senpai forgot his umbrella today, and it’s going to rain all day. I’m going to watch basketball practice afterschool and offer to share my umbrella with Senpai on the way home. Wanna come with?”

“Pass.” 

You shrug. “Suit yourself.” 

– 

“Did you hear that?” Yaku elbows Kuroo, whispering not very quietly.

Kuroo swipes at the elbow, rubbing his ribs and mumbling for Yaku to keep it down. 

“Damn, what’d you do? She thinks you’re such a loser.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Kuroo grits out. 

Yaku holds his hands up in surrender. “Just pointing out the facts.” 

“Hey, now. Let’s not be too hasty,” Kai cuts in. “It might just be a temporary infatuation with the basketball club guy. There’s still hope!” 

Kuroo groans and slumps forehead first onto his desk. Even when Kai is trying to be nice, it makes him feel so pathetic. 

–

When the final class of the day ends, Kuroo lingers in the classroom, still racking his brain for an excuse to keep you from going to the basketball club. He trails after you as you get up to leave the classroom. 

You’re taking a drink of water when Kuroo watches your friend shoulder into you a bit too hard, leaving you to stumble backwards, hands flailing to keep your balance. The uncapped water bottle in your hands goes flying into Kuroo, dumping its contents into the bag in his hands, containing the spare jerseys the volleyball team had planned on using for practice matches today. 

Kuroo drops the bag, arms coming up to support your back and keep you upright. 

When you’re stable on your feet, you quickly pick up your water bottle to staunch the flow of water, though it doesn’t matter much anymore given the jerseys are all soaked through. 

“Hey! What did you do that for?” you scold your friend. You turn to Kuroo, “thanks and sorry…” you trail off, not knowing how to remedy the situation. 

When Kuroo catches the wink your friend sends him, he catches on. “Aww man, now what’re we going to do for practice?” 

Yaku cuts in. “Oh, it’s fine. We can just use the spare-” 

Kai slaps a hand over Yaku’s big mouth, dragging him off towards the gym. “We’ll head to practice first. Why don’t you figure out the situation, Kuroo?” 

“Kuroo, I’m so sorry, but this was all her fault. Hey-” You turn to where your friend was standing, but she’s gone.

“We needed these for today’s practice. You’re just gonna have to help me out with the laundry to get these dried before the 3v3 drills then.” 

You pull a very displeased expression, mumbling something Kuroo can’t quite hear but is definitely a curse out of your friend. 

“Can’t I please make it up to you some other way? I have really important plans today.” 

Sure, as if trying to suck up to that basketball captain counts as really important plans. 

“All you have to do is toss these in the dryer and wait until they’re done. It’s the least you can do.” 

You offer a begrudging, “fine,” hauling the wet bag and following behind a triumphant Kuroo. 

As promised, it takes you less than an hour to dry the jerseys, passing the time by watching the volleyball club boys warm up and run drills. As you pull the jerseys out of the machine, Kuroo meets you by the locker room. 

“All done! Now can I-” 

“Man, it took too long to dry them. We had to restructure our drills since it’s too late to start practice matches now.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Look, Kuroo. I’m sorry, but I have no say over how long a dryer cycle is.” 

“I know. It just really put us in a hard spot, especially given that Nationals are around the corner…” he sighs audibly. “But it’s fine, I know it’s not totally your fault.” He sighs again. 

“Ok, ok” you give in. “What can I do to make up for it?” 

It takes all of Kuroo’s willpower to suppress a victorious grin. “Hmmm,” he pretends to deliberate. “Aha!” he exclaims. “You could be our manager until Nationals are over. That’d help the team and Coach Nekomata out a lot.” 

You hesitate. “Manager? Why don’t you just find a permanent one? Everyone says you’re all popular-”

“Everyone?” he smirks. 

“Yeah. Personally, I don’t really get it, but,” you miss the slight dimming of his grin. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who’d be more willing… I mean, more helpful than I would be.” 

“Figures that you’d try to weasel your way out of this.” 

“Weasel my way- wait just a second-” 

“It’s fine,” Kuroo cuts you off, turning around to leave you there. “You’re right, we’ll just find someone who’s more responsible.” 

“Hold on, Kuroo!” you grab the back of his jacket, pulling him back. 

This time, the grin on Kuroo’s face spreads in full force. 

“I’ll do it. I am not irresponsible.” 

“Great, you can start tomorrow.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, huffing indignantly like you’re satisfied that you’ve restored your reputation, your plans to be alone with basketball-senpai completely forgotten. 

Hook, line, sinker. 

–

Your job as the volleyball club manager is actually enjoyable. Save for the extended time you now need to spend in Kuroo’s company, you make friends with the rest of the team, especially the enthusiastic younger class. 

During lunch time, Kuroo will often request that you join Kai, Yaku, and him on the roof. 

“Why? I deserve freedom from you outside of volleyball club hours.” 

“Interesting that your commitment to taking the position of manager only extends to certain hours.” 

“What? Slander! I’m committed-” 

“We were going to discuss and review our plays from previous games, but I guess we’ll manage without you. Just hand me the notebook and we’ll review without you-” 

You stand abruptly, slamming your palms on your desk. With the notebook in question in hand, you storm past him, making your way to the roof access stairs without another word. 

“Well?” you demand when Kuroo doesn’t follow. “Are we going or what?” 

Kuroo grins. “Coming.” 

In your indignation, you fail to ever catch the grins from Yaku, Kai, and your friends. 

Sometimes, those lunches end up being just you and Kuroo, Yaku and Kai often being called away halfway through. Once all volleyball business is complete, you and Kuroo finish eating in relative peace. Often, he lies down to spend the rest of break napping. You tell yourself it’s too awkward to leave him there without a word, so you sit quietly to keep him company. 

One time, you had awoken to a sound of a camera shutter, realizing belatedly that you had fallen asleep on Kuroo’s shoulder. When you crane your head to face the boy in question, eyes wide and swiping at your lip in case you were drooling, you’re met with the usual smug grin on his lips, but his eyes are warm. Instead of smacking him and throwing a scatching remark, your cheeks heat up and you avert your eyes like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

–

When February rolls around, the entire student body is buzzing with the excitement of Valentine’s Day. You haven’t had any more development with basketball senpai, with your time mostly preoccupied with volleyball, but you’ve long standing plans to make Senpai chocolate. You’ve done research by asking around to find out that Senpai likes dark chocolate. 

“Have you thought about making the volleyball boys chocolate?” Mari asks you. 

“Yep, I plan to.” 

“And Kuroo?”

You choke on your water. “Why would you single him out? Of course… because he’s a part of the volleyball boys…” you trail off. 

Your friend props her chin on her palm, expression bored but the corner of her lips twitch. “Uh huh,” she says in obvious disbelief. 

Your inner turmoil is exacerbated when Kenma says to you, the day before Valentines, “despite his looks, he likes sweeter chocolate.” 

“Who?” 

Kenma just gives you a look, waving as he makes his way home. 

The following day, you show up to school, hands full with all the chocolates you made the night before. Each bag is wrapped in an individual baggie with a white ribbon except for one that is wrapped special, in a small box with red ribbon.

For Senpai, obviously. 

Your first stop of the day is your friend. You hand her a bag and she smiles, quickly opening it and popping it in her mouth right in front of you. 

“What do you think?” you ask. 

“Mmmm,” she closes her eyes, savoring the sweet treat. “So sweet. Milk chocolate? Weren’t you going on about how Senpai likes dark chocolate?” 

“I… made different batches.” you lie. You brandish the box with the red ribbon. “Senpai’s was made special.” 

“Still sticking to giving that boring Senpai chocolate, huh?” 

“He is not boring!” 

“Sure, whatever.” She peeks into your bag to look at the array of all the baggies you plan on giving out today. She looks up at the red ribbon box in your hands then back into your bag. “Just that one box? And it’s for Senpai?” 

“... yup.” 

“What was that pause?” 

“What pause?” 

She just rolls her eyes and turns back to her textbook. 

– 

“Did you hear that? It’s for the basketball guy.” Yaku elbows Kuroo’s ribs. 

“Can you stop elbowing me?” 

“That’s not important right now! She’s still going to give that guy chocolate!” 

“I know, I heard,” Kuroo hisses. 

Kai gives Kuroo a pitiful look that ticks him off. “What are you going to do?” 

“What is there to do?” Kuroo replies, keeping his eyes focused on the homework he has on his desk. “I’m going to grab a drink from the vending machines. Be right back.” 

He gets up to walk to the furthest vending machine in the courtyard. Maybe the walk and the winter air from the garden will help him cool his head. 

When he gets back with a can of tea in his hands, Kuroo sees you standing at his desk, where Kai and Yaku are still loitering around before class starts. He watches you hand each of them a bag tied tastefully with white ribbon. He lingers in the shadow of the doorway, watching Yaku and Kai thank you, then you walking back to your desk without leaving a third bag for Kuroo. 

He feels like he could use another walk right then, but the teacher catches him in the doorway and pushes Kuroo into the classroom to start class for the day. 

He makes eye contact with Kai and Yaku, who shake their heads at him, answering his unasked question. 

–

At lunch, Kuroo disappears on his own. He thinks to himself that he just needs the time to cool down, in fear that he’d embarrass himself in front of you by asking where his portion of chocolate is. He would feel bad enough if you just handed him giri-chocolate that you have everyone else. He would die, though, if you said you didn’t prepare him any at all. 

As he sits alone in the rarely frequented stairwell of the west wing of campus, he sighs. 

What does that guy have that he doesn’t anyway? Every conversation Kuroo has overheard between you two has been terribly boring. He gives dry, one-worded answers. He’s not funny nor particularly smart. He’s tall but so is Kuroo? Maybe he’s good at his sport, but Kuroo is taking his team to Nationals. He’s obviously not into you, whereas Kuroo himself? You get the picture. 

Anyway, he doesn’t think it very presumptuous to think of himself as a better match for you. The two of you joke and laugh together. You get along with his closest friends. Despite your sharp tongue, you seem to be comfortable enough around him. He reminisces of the one time you fell asleep on his shoulder on the roof. He had been wide awake and frozen solid, scared that even breathing too loudly would shatter the moment. He would never tell anyone that the photo Yaku had snapped of you drooling against his shoulder was saved in a password-protected folder in his phone. 

He sighs again, all the tension leaving his body as he lets himself feel all the feelings he’s been holding back. A heavy arm rests over his eyes, squeezing them tightly when he feels the sting behind his irises threatening to surface. 

Unable to pull himself together enough to face you in class, he ends up at the infirmary for the rest of the day, citing a headache. The nurse offers one of the beds and Kuroo gladly takes it, napping the afternoon away, a temporary escape from thoughts of you. 

The break is short-lived as he wakes up just in time for the last class of the day. Not even the prospect of his favorite subject, science, can improve his mood as he drags his feet to the lab classroom. He makes his way to Yaku and Kai’s table, not meeting your eyes. His teammates give him questioning looks but say nothing when Kuroo shakes his head and immerses himself in the lesson for the day. 

Class goes by even more quickly than normal and before he knows it, the dreaded time of day has arrived. He packs slowly, hating himself for wanting to eavesdrop on your plans for the rest of the afternoon. 

“So, what’s the plan?” he hears your friend ask you. “Volleyball or basketball?” 

“Not sure,” you reply. “Gotta go, see you tomorrow!” 

Kuroo watches as you hastily grab your things and leave the classroom. He ignores your friend’s prying eyes on him as he walks out after you. 

In the hallway, he spots you speeding away towards the shoe lockers. As he contemplates chasing after you, he hears a call of your name. 

Kuroo watches in mild horror when he finds that the voice belonged to the captain of the basketball team. His eyes stay glued to the boy who approaches you, all charming smiles and grinning snake eyes. The two of you are too far for Kuroo to hear your conversation but he can see your expression morphing into one of bashfulness. 

All his emotions spill over as the scene unfolds right in front of him in slow motion. He watches your hands dig into your pocket, making the motions to pull something out and likely hand it to your senpai. It all happens so quickly, but before he knows it, Kuroo’s grabbing your hand and dragging you away. 

Something - wind? His boiling hot jealousy? - roars in his ears, any protests you let out going right over his head. It’s only when the two of you reach the garden behind the gymnasium that he lets go. 

He freezes, back still turned away from yours.

It hits him then. He drops your hand like a hot potato, almost giving into the overwhelming urge to bury his face in his hands, crouch down so low that he’s buried in the ground. 

“Kuroo?” he hears you call tentatively. 

How was he going to get himself out of this one? 

So he does what he does best with you. 

Cower. 

He turns around, putting two hands behind his head to feign nonchalance. He forces out a laugh and in the lightest voice he could possibly muster at a time like this, he sticks his foot in this mouth. 

“You were gonna give your chocolates to that senpai, huh? You better be glad I interrupted and saved you the embarrassment of getting rejected in front of the entire student body.” 

You blink at him. “Excuse me?” 

“I mean, I really saved that guy back there. Knowing your cooking skills, you might as well have poisoned him-” 

A box thrown at his face interrupts him. He catches it before the fall to the ground, staring at the offending hand that launched the item. He then looks to you, thoughtless as your eyes begin to water. 

“They’re for you, asshole. If you don’t want ‘em so badly, go throw them away for all I care.”

As you turn around and storm off, Kuroo sees one of your hands coming up to rub angrily at your face. 

He gives chase once more today. It’s easy to catch up as he gets in front of you, face craning to look at you, to validate that he’s not going crazy and you’re really crying over him. 

You turn away stubbornly until Kuroo grabs your arms, holding them up in the air to trap you. 

“Let go!” you thrash. 

But it’s easy for Kuroo to keep them still, unusually quiet as he looks and looks until he gets his fill and confirms that he’s not dreaming. 

“They’re for me?” he asks. 

“Yes, you idiot. Do you wanna add deaf to your list of defining characteristics? It can be right up there with moronic, insensitive, stupid-” 

He chuckles; he doesn't even know where it came from, really. 

Relaxing, he lowers your arms back down but keeps his hold. “And are they the ones you made for all your friends? Or are they…” he trails off, staring into your eyes to get his meaning across. 

You cringe, neck shrinking to retract your face into your scarf. Averting your eyes, you mutter, “the second one.” 

He suddenly engulfs you in his arms. The squeeze he gives you forces a little squeal from you. 

“Oh my god,” he rubs his cheek against the top of your head like an overgrown cat. “You’re so cute, I could die.” 

Your cheeks feel hot as you repress the urge to smile. 

Instead, you mumble, “die then.” 

[hxltic]

“YOU’VE NEVER SQUIRTED?” KENMA

part 1 | part 2

It was actually a really awkward conversation in the kitchen of his apartment. The fresh toast sizzled against your fingers as you removed it from the toaster, the sun shined bright through his black curtains without quit, and because it was in his disposition to be up ungodly hours, you incorrectly assumed he’d hibernate in his room so you planned to head to your friend’s house for breakfast in a full face and clothes you never wore. Or technically, a full face and clothes you only wore out to places you cared about. Otherwise, you didn’t really dress to impress.

500 FOLLOWERS?!

Footsteps sounded from afar and you retrieved the jelly from the fridge mindlessly.

“Where we going?”

Kenma taunted from his seat found on the island stool. You assumed he’d just woken up, accompanied with doing his daily hygiene because his soft voice still had the slightest rasp to it.

“We?” You jokingly snapped back. Kenma scoffed lightheartedly at you. The refrigerator door closed with a slight push, and Kenma sighed to where he could ask again. Some almost fully black stands came to fall in front of his face as he leaned forward on the cold, stone counter and his hair was pulled into a small ponytail, nothing left of the noticeable blonde but disproportional ends that fall into his large hoodie.

“Where are you going?”

You grab the plate but forget the juice for the morning. Back you go to the fridge almost in a rush.

“I’m going to a friend’s for breakfast, it’s this party thing she hosts every year,” you explain. “Almost like a friendsgiving. She takes it suuuuper serious.”

The juice is in one hand, a random cup in another. You twist around to pour the liquid on the island instead of the main countertop so you could engage in quick conversation with Kenma. As he got older he’s become more expressive and outgoing, just willingly reserved. He has, however, become a handful; and having lived with him, you’ve seen him take shots like a champ. You see his aloofness dissolve, his eyebrow coming up the slightest bit.

“And you’re eating breakfast before going to eat breakfast?” He slowed the pace of his words around the end of the sentence like he was judging you.

“I have to eat in the morning still, or I’ll pass out before I even get there Kenma! I’m kinda a little late though so you can heckle me when I get back.”

“Uhuh…”

Kenma hummed in response with an inconspicuous smirk on his face. You wouldn’t have even seen it if it weren’t for you waiting to see his reaction of your flawless vocabulary. He was however, changing his position to leaning back in the chair, already staring you incredulously. It was somewhat close to a manspread, his hands were tucked into the hoodie pockets, and the sight was way too much for you to handle this early in the morning.

So, you turned around to tend to your idle plate with jelly-less toast on it. You didn’t like Kenma specifically, persay, you would’ve liked it if any boy looked at you like that. Yeah. Don’t think too much about it.

Anyway, with the slide of a drawer you withdrew the knife and got to work. Unbeknownst to you, Kenma had not taken his eyes off your body. Your hair was still slightly wet but it made it easier for you to style. It was up. The backless halter top you wore was connected only by a string at your nape, and it left skin between that and your skinny jeans that fell down to your open toe, clear strap heels. You were dressed perfect for the summer occasion of a girls day out. And he was absolutely sulking in it.

“You look good.”

You hate the slight pause in your actions. You hate the way you had to question if he was talking to you or not, even if you were the only one in the house. You hate that you refuse to turn around to him. You hate the giddy smile that decorated your face. You hate that you had to cover up how everything you hated affected you, so you say “Thank you; flatter me more.”

He just outwardly chuckled, and ended with a “Maybe.” He starts again, “Hey is this who you were on the phone with last night? Who’s at the party I mean.”

“Hm?” Your chin did lead over your shoulder at this. “Yes actually, I’m surprised I’m up as early as I am considering she kept me up all night.” You resume.

“Tell her I said she should break up with him.”

You agree, “I will; she definitely needs to hear it.”

…

Suddenly, you snap your head back around quick enough to give you whiplash. You don’t get embarrassed easily, but you had to be blushing like a bitch.

This time Kenma’s smirk was very noticeable. You blink warily at him.

“Ken… how much did you hear?” Your voice was soft with curiosity mixed and thrown into fear. He just shrugged casually and quickly switched to an innocent façade. One thing you learned about him over the years: he has a badass poker face. And he’s a dick.

Such a dick, in fact, that after reassuring “I wasn’t eavesdropping so I didn’t hear much,” he let you take deep breaths of relief and turn back around to lather your second piece of toast. You felt the golden, low, cat-like eyes burning through the back of your head—so with indecision and obscurity—you looked over your shoulder again. He wore a shit eating grin.

You pointed the butterknife at him accusingly.

“You fucking liar! You heard all of it!!”

Kenma just smiled menacingly.

“I did hear all of it actually; but pushing that aside, why do I feel like I’ve never heard you say some of the words you said?” He tilts his head to the side, completely dismissing you.

“Kenma!?”

“Say pussy.”

This made you stop. You found him unbelievable, and you’d never admit what hearing him say pussy does to your mind, but his head was sideways in pure amusement like he was waiting on you to do it.

“Kenma. What.”

“Say it.”

You just stared at each other.

“Pussy,” you finally repeated. After lingering in the air a bit Kenma’s eyes went wide and he threw his head back to diminish into laughter.

“Kenmaaa.” You groaned loudly. He only laughed harder. “What all did you hear? Seriously!”

He calmed down to just a grin and ushered you to be as well with the palm of his hand.

“Okay okay—mainly the part where she explains how she hates the guy because she feels like he ignores her and has never made her cum—plus some other stuff, blah blah, that’s basically it,” He rambles.

It was your turn for your eyes to run wide, so in astonishment that your body couldn’t even address the other words that rolled out his mouth so easy. “I don’t want basically, I want all of it,” you declare.

“There’s not much more unless you’re including all the other dumb shit he did? Like how he told his friends she did something even if she didn’t, and she felt invalidated about it. I have amazing input on these types of situations by the way.”

Kenma was saying all this without any negative emotion, relaying it to you with normalcy. “The only thing after that was about yourself.”

You roll your eyes, but bingo. So he did hear it. He heard what you didn’t want him to. Your face may have dropped a tiny bit.

“…What was it? About how…I have—“

“—never squirted?” He finishes. Your chest tightened a little, and your face was red with what was anger transforming into something else. His ordinary apathetic gaze was locked on yours for a tiny moment, so you made it your responsibility to look away and grab your food.

“Gotta go now, I’m already late.” You swiftly unhooked the keys from the wall and opened the door. It wasn’t his fault he heard (because to be honest you two weren’t the quietest last night during your girl talk), but just now the fact that he knew upset you. Your best friend made it seem so easy, like she does it all the time, and it just made you seem like you were missing out how she explained it.

However, on your way out, Kenma did call for you from the kitchen. “Not everyone can do it,” He said. It was reassurance, you assume, but it didn’t really come off as such. He then says (more to himself you also assume), “Not everyone can make you do it either.”

This sat with you the whole breakfast/brunch party, champagne being passed around like candy but nothing could stop you from thinking about it. Of course it being a whole room of the closest friends, she re-explained last night’s gossip, the effects hitting you again as your friends chimed in on the situation. Was it really as good as they say?

——•——

You unlocked the house door, the apartment dim and quiet. It was around four now, you weren’t completely sober, and your heels clacked along the tile.

Dropping your arm to sit your purse on the counter and hang the keys, you undo a single strap and slip the shoes off. You carry them in your hand for the journey to your room.

Of course before you can reach your door, there’s Kenma’s slightly cracked open one to remind you of what he said. Not everyone can make you do it either.

What does that even mean; can’t you do it alone? Do you need someone else for it?

You weren’t dumb and at least knew what he was implying. It was an offer. Or maybe it wasn’t, and you’re just horny. Either way you find yourself stopped in front of the entrance to his room. You don’t bother to knock, it falls open with a slight push of your free hand.

Kenma resides at his setup, on his phone, the mic wrapped around his neck. The few moving lights in his room softly radiated from his pc, making him appear to be different strong shades of red and orange depending on when you looked. He didn’t seem to be streaming. Or he could be—he isn’t the nicest to his viewers.

He casts you a glance past his hair but dismisses your presence. You don’t really ever come into his room except to just grab something and go, usually a hair product.

You take a few steps inside. Then, you leisurely drop the heels at his bedside so he finally acknowledges your company.

“Ken?” Your delicate voice breaks the silence of the outside, completely unsure if there was music running through his headphones.

He clicks his phone off so you have his full attention.

“What’s up? How was it?”

You continued taking slow steps forward, with only one thing on your mind. And it wasn’t the party. “It was okay.”

Kenma surveys how you have yet to halt, inching closer and closer to him. It only took a slight examination of your face to see the solemnity. Blankness. He stands up from his seat and removes the headset from himself in concern before you can get any closer.

“You sure? You don’t look—”

“—Kenma. What did you say earlier?” You whisper. He was now directly in front of you.

He pauses for a second and his face converts to disbelief. “Are we still talking about the squirt thing?” He smiles mischievously, “I was just letting you know not to worry about it so much.”

You hate that word. It’s so gross sounding, so vulgar. But you can’t bring yourself to get him to stop saying it.

“Well I have been, so what happens now?” You peer strangely at each other, both acutely aware of where this was going.

“And you’re coming to me for this, why?” The ravenette taunts. He knew exactly why you were in his room right now, the curiosity having ate away at you all day. Like an itch that won’t go. You’ve gotta give in if this’ll go anywhere.

“Well you seem to know a lot about it…” you fumble with your bracelet nervously. You’ve gotten this far. “Could you…maybe help me?”

Kenma makes no sudden movements. He scans you suspiciously. A slight flush of red may have spread across your cheeks, but the darkness around you was protective. Hearing it actually come out of your mouth was a whole different story than imagining it.

“You want me to make you squirt?” He confirmed.

You may have physically cringed at that sentence because his hands find his sweat pockets in a ‘you said it not me’ manner.

“Yes.”

He scanned you again for good measure.

“Alright.”

With this he turned on his heel, stepped away, and sat in his gaming chair again. You stood there blankly, unaware of what to do. “Come here.”

You follow him to his setup. He sighs because he could see how uncomfortable you were.

“What usually do you do to get off?” He questions. He twists you around by your hips, your back facing him.

“Uh…It’s just kinda alone in my room I guess. I use my fingers usually.” You tried to keep your voice low enough to cure your embarrassment. Kenma, however, seemed to be doing this with ease. In fact, as he was asking you questions, he massaged your hips and waist soothingly.

“Is that it? You don’t watch or think about anything?”

You turn your head, “No. Am I supposed to?”

“I mean it’s not mandatory but you gotta think about something.”

“Whatever. Jeez, Kenma just say you think about me already.” You quip. Whatever he was doing was working, you were loosening up.

“Only when I’m about to cum. How do you like to be talked to?”

What?

You weren’t even going to ask about it. It was probably a joke anyway.

A moment of processing silence passed. “I don’t really know how I like to be talked to. Guys have tried to praise or degrade me but it never worked, so I just assumed I didn’t like the talk at all.”

He tugs on the shirt string at your neck. He watches you tense up at the action, so he rubs your trap in slow, circular motions instead. “If I say I like to be praised, all they do is say ‘good girl’ over and over. Gets kinda boring you know?” Is this you venting to Kenma about your boring sex life? Of course. You mess with your nails as you face away from him. Not for long though, because he turns you around.

“This is what I meant by not everyone can make you do it. Only you can guarantee yourself the highest pleasure 100% of the time,” Kenma drags you by your belt loops so you fall into the chair against him, “and me.”

He was so close now, your knees sliding under the chair arm. His breath could be felt on your skin and his hands were still pawing at your waist to glide up your back. You couldn’t bring yourself to put your full weight on him. However, he pulls you down anyway, and manually places your hands along his clothed chest so you could calm down. That was all he wanted from you right now. To relax and to take deep breaths.

“Warnings would be great Ken.”

“Yeah, but you said you don’t like to talk.”

“I don’t.”

“So should I warn you about how hard you make me dressed up like that?”

You moderately gasped at the comment placed right into your collarbone. You pressed down a tiny bit farther to see if you could feel it. You could. His breath fanned against your body and airy kisses lead.

You wonder where all of Kenma’s shyness over the years went because now you would never have guessed him to be like this. The friction fuels him to push you more.

Kenma could go on and on about these random intrusive thoughts he only gets at night—the only time where you seem to engulf his brain. Living with you over the years has been fine with zero temptation, but recently, it’s been like a hormone specifically for you snapped in his body. He feels the way you roll your hips the smallest bit for yourself. You liked the talk, just not the guys.

Soft fingers pull on a single string near your hair, releasing your breasts from the top as the fabric folded downwards between the two of you.

©️ hxltic

[nekomanager]

.—♡ 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄, 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 { K. KENMA }

KENMA accidentally walked in on you in the airplane lavatory; @mrskenmakozume: dedicated to you like before and as always

︶︶୨୧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ⋮ pwp, semi-public sex, frotting, dry humping, penetration, slight dacryphilia, airplane sex xD (trust me with the outrageous places to have sex) 𖦹 @enchantedforest-network

It was a bad idea opening up the link Lev sent, Kenma thought. He never expected it would be a hentai game and his curious ass played it while on flight. Great. He knew he couldn’t take it any longer or he’d get his balls blue for real. Pulling his hoodie on, he rushed to the restroom, opening the first available cubicle.

You both froze as you were halfway from pulling your panties back up. Your pussy was fully exposed from his sight.

Fuck!

He immediately turned around and was about to open the door when you stopped him, “Don’t! Don’t open yet!” You pleaded in embarrassment. “I’m not yet fully dressed some people outside might see me!”

Shit! He’s annoyed. Fucking annoyed. He’s already hard and you got him even harder. Just…Fuck!

“Hurry up.” He snapped. “You should’ve closed the door.”

“I did!” You rebutted.

Kenma glared at the door lock and flipped the switch. Some of the lights turned even brighter and the green sign from above turned to red. “This is how you lock it.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes! Did this person even realize that you’re the one humiliated here? The only thing he had was a pretty face, but what’s with the personality?

“Okay. I’m done.” You said, avoiding eye contact. He just saw you half-naked!

“We can’t go out together.” He leaned back to the wall, giving you space to make your way out of the restroom. Striding sidewards through the tight space, your ass grazed against his crotch. He tightly pinched his eyes close. He sure felt your shape through those tight leggings.

You were about to unlock the door when the plane wobbled. The toilet seat cover closed as you both struggled to keep your feet.

Ladies and gentlemen the fasten seatbelt sign is on. Please remain seated at all times.

Your body bumped on Kenma’s, throwing the both of you off balance, which had you stumbling right on his lap. Good thing he managed to sit on the covered toilet.

You both sighed as soon as it stopped quaking. However, your eyes widened when you felt his bulge poking against your ass. You looked back at him and he had that wide-eyed gaze and flushed face.

Now, you’re quits.

He’s quite the pretty boy though, bearing that cute and boyish features. You mentally slapped yourself! You shouldn’t be thinking this way towards the guy who just saw your privates and whose hard-on was poking your back.

You were about to stand up, when the plane seesawed and you fell hard back on his lap.

Fuck! Kenma took hold of your waist, keeping you in place so you won’t fall. This new position had his cock in between your crotch. Your soft cunt roughly rubbing against him. Your walls clenched with the friction as the plane kept on shaking while your hips matched the movement.

He's growing even bigger.

Kenma gritted his teeth and you bit your lip. It felt so good.

The turbulence ended yet no one’s making a move to stop and you just kept on squirming around him.

“W-we can’t do this!” You said, but your hips were grinding his length.

“Yes, we sh- we shouldn’t.” He said, but he’s doing nothing to move you away and you were both still hungrily rubbing against each other.

More! More! More!

He needed more! As long as he could still control himself, he better stop this now, right? That’s just sensible. He lifted you away from his lap, giving you a chance to run, however you pulled your leggings and panties down.

“A-Are you sure this is okay?” You asked with reddened face, taking his gesture differently.

His eyes were wide as he couldn’t believe what just happened. “I think so...”

He’s pretty sure that his fucking dick was now dominating his head.

He freed his cock from the opening of his pants. It wasn’t that difficult as he’s already full-pledged. Hastily, he put on a condom with agitated fingers. It’s better to be safe, though he had no intention of putting it inside you.

Guiding you on his lap again, your thighs sandwiched his cock and your bare pussy was rubbing his length. You rocked your hips, pressing your mounds further against his flesh to add a satisfying pressure against your clit, sliding and dragging the lips of your pussy on the length of his cock and coating it with your wetness. His hips met your rhythm and gradually increased it, until the plane teetered.

“Aaaah~” You moaned. You were both jolted! He accidentally slipped inside you!

Cabin crew prepare for landing.

Kenma wrapped his arms firm around your waist and you gripped on the side handle tightly. Your bodies were shifting together with every tilt of the plane. Both of you were no longer in control of your movements, yet it was very satiating. His cock was reaching the deepest and most pleasurable spots inside you, while the plane's brisk motions were giving him so much friction and it's getting him close to losing his mind.

You had to tightly latch onto each other with the intensity of the shaking. Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes. Kenma had his forehead pressed on your nape while you were holding his head, reaching a hand from behind. You both couldn't even manage to cover your groans and whimpers as the plane began its descent. Both of you were drowning in pleasurable friction caused by the sudden tilts and vibrations.

As the wheels of the aircraft touched the runway, his grip on your waist tightened even more and so was your hold on the side handle; the impact took you bouncing up and down raggedly and violently against his cock, getting the both of you to your destination, screaming and crying curses while you were being completely muffled by the engine’s noise.

You both trembled out of your orgasms, still throbbing at how intense it all felt and reeling in the pulses in your core.

Ladies and gentlemen we have now arrived at Galeão International Airport, Rio de Janeiro. Please remain seated until the fasten seatbelt sign is turned off. Current ground temperature is…

Your minds were empty as you caught your breaths, panting and limply swaying your heads. It was so good that your pussy and his cock felt like it’s burning hot in the right way. You both wanted more of it, but you had no energy left.

“Are you…Are you alright?” Kenma asked in an airy whisper.

You nodded your head silently.

“Can you walk?” Somehow, something inside him wanted to assist you outside but…

You blushed. There’s no other way or else you had to walk out together and people would be suspicious. You gave him another nod and stood from his lap, his now flaccid cock slipping out of you. You pulled your panties and leggings up and almost stumbled. Your knees felt like jelly.

“Walk closely to the wall.” He said gently.

“Alright, thank you.” You told him without looking back. You didn’t even get his name or whatever, but you sure would never forget his face.

Kenma watched as you walked out of the door.

Shit! What did he just do? First flight to a different continent and he fucked up. Literally.

Running a hand over his face, he let out a sigh. He hadn’t even asked for your name. All he knew was your whines were kinda’ cute…just like you. He blushed. What was he even thinking now? Did the plane ride rewire his brain?

Kenma went out of the restroom once he sensed that almost all of the passengers had already gone, though there’s a part of him that hoped you were still there. Even up to the baggage carousels, he sort of looked for you, but you were nowhere to be found anymore.

Anyway, what would he even do? Ask for your name and where you’re heading? He’s just here to visit Shoyo. That’s it. This would probably be one of the experiences he’d keep to the grave.

Finally picking his luggage up from the conveyor belt, he glanced around to search for his friend until the bright boy beamed at him. His name written in a white paper. “Ke-n-ma!”

Kenma smiled upon seeing him again after a long time. He looked toasted, geez.

“Shoyo,” he greeted back.

"Welcome to Rio!" Shoyo welcomed him happily. “Oh! I forgot to tell you.” He said with excitement. “This is Y/N! She’s the friend I was talking about to you. I’ll tour you two together. I actually booked you in the same hotel…”

The ginger head’s voice drowned as you and Kenma stared at each other, frozen and red-faced.

It looks like you were never done yet.

JOIN THE 🍷 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄! Get tagged whenever I update ♡

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© nekorei 2023 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

[aakariiiii]

hiii! Can you please do sick f!reader x kenma and reader is a big crybaby a quiet clingy and if you have time can you please make it long? And thank youu<3

hiiii!!!! Here it is, I really hope it’s to your liking!!

Also guys keep requesting, requests are open!

Enjoy <333

_____________________________________________

“Oi lover boy, your girlfriend is—“ kuroo began but got instantly cut off by kenma, whose eyes were glued to his gaming console.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Kenma cut in immediately, his voice low but edged with irritation. His thumbs didn’t pause on the buttons of his console, though his jaw tensed ever so slightly.

Rustling noises of students walking around the crowded cafeteria swirled around them as the group sat together at their usual table. Plates clattered, bursts of laughter echoed, and chairs scraped the floor, but Kenma’s focus remained pinned to the dim glow of his screen.

“Why so defensive?” Kuroo smirked, and added “but anyway, your not girlfriend girlfriend looks like she just finished pushing a whole car across the continent”

Although kenma initially didn’t care, or tried to act like he didn’t care, his sharp, cat-like eyes darted upward, reluctantly shifting their focus to you.

You were sitting a few tables away with a couple of other classmates, but even from this distance, Kenma could tell something was off. Normally, you were full of energy during lunch, cracking jokes, dragging your friends into conversations, and—most importantly—occasionally wandering over to annoy him. But today, you sat slouched over your tray, barely picking at the food.

Your usually bright expression was replaced by a pale, sickly complexion. Your cheeks and nose were lightly tinted red, and your movements seemed sluggish, almost robotic.

“Ooo are we gonna see our lover boy in action?” Said kuroo smugly.

Kenma’s eyes narrowed, his irritation bubbling to the surface. “Will you shut up?” he muttered, flipping his console closed with a soft click as their lunch time was up, indicating the start of the next class.

_____________________________________________

Kenma’s eyes kept finding their way to your back.

Sat behind you, he couldn’t focus on the test paper in front of him which was glaring at him, asking him to solve its questions.

Kenma’s pencil hovered above the test paper, his gaze flicking up toward the back of your head for the third time in five minutes.

Your usual straight posture was gone, replaced with a tired slump. Every now and then, you sniffled softly or shifted in your seat, but it was clear you were barely holding yourself together.

The class bell finally rang, signalling the end of this test and the school day. After packing up, kenma approached you, bag casually swung on his shoulder and hands in pockets.

“You’re sick” he muttered bluntly in his usual low voice.

You turned, startled to see him standing so close. “Kenma? I’m—”

“Not fine?” He questioned, knowing you were about to say the complete opposite of what he just said.

“That’s not what I was gonna say,” you breathed, trying to keep your composure, “I’m fi—“

“Let’s go” he cut you off, grabbing your bag from you and swinging it on his shoulder as he turned away, beginning to approach the door.

You however, with wobbly arms, held him back, fingers around his wrist.

“I can’t, I have a meeting that—“

“Don’t care, you look like you’re gonna be blown by the wind. You’re not in a state to attend your meeting”

Kenma’s tone was blunt, leaving no room for argument, but you still hesitated. “Kenma, I really can’t miss this—”

“Just call in sick, dumbass. It’s not the end of the world” he gently pulled his hand away from your grip.

The walk home was quiet at first, save for the sound of your uneven breaths and the occasional sniffle. Kenma walked slightly ahead of you, his usual laid-back demeanor masking the way he subtly slowed his pace to match your unsteady steps.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” you mumbled after a while, your voice hoarse.

Kenma shrugged, not looking back. “You wouldn’t have made it on your own.”

You pouted at his straightforwardness, though you lacked the energy to argue. Still, the thought of him going out of his way for you made your chest tighten in a strange, unfamiliar way.

As you turned a corner, a sudden gust of wind hit, making you shiver. Kenma noticed immediately, his sharp eyes darting to you.

With a quiet sigh, he pulled his hoodie over his head and held it out to you.

“Put it on,” he said, his voice low.

“But you’ll be cold,” you protested weakly, though you were already reaching for it.

“I don’t care,” he replied flatly.

You slipped the hoodie on, the fabric warm and comforting as it enveloped you. The scent of him—something faint and clean—lingered, and you pulled it tighter around yourself without thinking.

Without any warning, something suddenly snapped in you. Your already glassy eyes opened up a little, allowing tears to flow down your flushed cheeks.

“Are you crying?” He questioned, concern evident in his comm voice for the first time today.

“No I’m not,” you hoarsely mumble, beginning to fast-walk while scrubbing at your cheeks in an attempt to hide your tears.

However, kenma’s athletic nature did not betray as he caught up to you with ease.

“So you are crying” he emphasised. He didn’t need a confirmation, he didn’t need a reply. He secretly hoped that you understand that he’s here for you, even though he is struggling to show that.

As you reached your house, your sniffles were the only thing that could be heard along with the humming of the wind.

“Is your mom at home?”

“No, she has a night shift today” you replied as your shaky hands clumsily tried to insert the key into its hole.

Kenma however gently pushed you away in order to open the door instead.

“I’ll stay over for a bit then”

“You don’t have to” you said with a small voice as you entered your house.

“But I want to” he replied back.

_____________________________________________

The first thing you did when you entered your house was to collapse onto the couch. You let out a long, exhausted breath, your body finally allowing itself to sink into the soft cushions, the heaviness of the day crashing over you all at once.

Kenma set both your bags down quietly by the door before glancing at you. He began to approach you, now standing directly in front of you.

His figure leaned closer to you, hand slipping under your bangs and feeling your forehead.

“You’re burning” he mumbled, his hot breath fanning your face as his golden eyes stared into yours. The urge to lean into a kiss was hard to resist, but he resisted it anyway.

You, on the other hand, were in complete shock. His eyes glimmering at you planet Saturn, captivating in every way possible.

“You know, you don’t have to hold it in,” he mumbled, pulling away. He read you like an open book, after all, being friends with you for 5 years makes it easy to do that.

And all you had to hear was these words to unleash the swarm of emotions swimming inside your eyes. Tears spilled over, leaving hot tracks down your cheeks as you stared at him, unable to contain the choke that escaped your throat.

He sighed as he sat down next to you, eyes still stuck to your sobbing figure.

“I’m so sorry” you cried, voice breaking.

“Don’t be” his usual flat tone tinged with something softer now as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear hesitantly.

“But—but I have wasted your time by getting you to walk me and—“

“I don’t really care about my time” he replied flatly.

“What—what about practice?” You hiccuped as tears continued to race out of your eyes.

“It can wait” he shrugged.

“Kuroo is gonna kill me” you cried more.

Kenma’s eyes narrowed slightly, his usual teasing smirk fading as he considered your words. “Kuroo can go and bite me if he wants,” he replied.

“Try to not apologise for existing challenge” he added, trying to lighten the mood.

Your eyes darted away, embarrassed, but the words just came out in a rush. “I’m not trying to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, cutting you off before you could protest further. “I’m just saying. It’s exhausting watching you try to convince everyone you’re not allowed to feel like shit.”

His words stung, but not in the way they usually did. There was an edge of something different, something more vulnerable in his tone. You stared down at your lap, fingers curling into the hem of the oversized hoodie he’d lent you, still feeling the dampness of your tears on your cheeks. “I just—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

Kenma didn’t say anything more, just reached out and took your hand, the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours. “You’re not bothering me,” he said softly, like he was trying to make you believe it even though you both knew how foreign it felt to hear him say it. “You never were.”

You squeezed his hand tighter, the effort to stop your sobs failing as they slipped out again “I’m so tired, and it hurts so much”

“I know you are and it’s—“

“And I look like shit”

“You don’t have to look good while you’re sick”

“You didn’t even try to deny the fact that I look like shit kenma”

“Was I supposed to?” He questioned, making you slip your hand out of his grasp and nudge him in the ribs, causing him to slightly wince. However, the corners of his lips were twitching upwards.

The silence stretched between you for a moment, the kind of silence that didn’t need words to communicate everything you both felt. Kenma’s thumb moved in slow, steady circles against the back of your hand, a silent rhythm that somehow began to pull you out of the storm inside your chest.

“Thanks kenma” you sniffled, finally feeling better.

“For what?”

“Making me feel better,”

“You don’t—“

“You’re such a dumbass” you cut him off, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Stop acting like this is no big deal. You’re being nice for once.”

“I’m a dumbass huh? Well you’re clingy” he jokingly shot back.

“What? How—“

“And a crybaby” he added with a smirk.

“Okay, I can’t argue with you on that, but stop being mean!” you protested, half-laughing, half-crying. It was frustrating, the way he could make you laugh even when you felt like you were falling apart.

“It’s called being honest,”

You groaned and leaned back against the couch, pulling the hoodie tighter around you as if it would somehow shield you from his relentless teasing. “Well, if being honest means being a jerk, I’ll take the lies, thanks.”

“I’m just saying, you’re lucky I’m here to keep you in check. Someone’s gotta.” He shrugged, a slight smile on his lips.

“Keep me in check?” You questioned, your voice still hoarse.

hey, I’m not complaining. I’m just pointing it out.”

You couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at your lips, despite the tiredness still weighing down on you. “You’re such a pain, you know that?”

“Look at who’s being mean now”

“It’s called being honest” you smirked.

“Touché” he replied. “Well anyway, have you got any medicine, I’ll go and grab it for you”

“It’s fine I’ll get it—“

“Just sit down and be sick,” he interrupted with a playful, exasperated tone, standing up straight and stretching out his arms as if he’d just finished a workout. “You look like you're about to collapse.”

“Kenma—“

You scowled, about to say something snarky back, but before you could, Kenma was already rummaging through your cabinets with his usual efficiency. He wasn’t letting you argue this time, and for once, you didn't have the energy to fight him.

“Kenma—“

“Forget it. I’ll just search for it. You sit still, and careful not to ruin my hoodie with your snot,”

“Who said that’s your hoodie? It’s mine now”

you shot back, voice hoarse but defiant. You tugged it tighter around you, peeking out from the oversized hood. “It’s mine now.”

Kenma paused mid-step, turning just enough to give you one of his classic deadpan stares. “I didn’t know theft was a side effect of a fever.”

You grinned weakly, sniffling as you adjusted the hoodie’s sleeves, which hung far past your fingertips. “Finders keepers.”

“sure, go ahead. Keep it. Just know I’m charging you rent for it.”

“Good luck getting a single yen out of me,” you muttered as you sank further into the couch, your fingers tugging the hood over your head.

Kenma arched a brow, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “Who said the rent was monetary?”

That made you pause, your gaze snapping up to meet his as heat crept up your already flushed face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, narrowing your eyes in suspicion, though your voice cracked slightly from your cold and... something else.

You blinked, your foggy brain struggling to keep up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kenma tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Just saying. I could charge you something else. Like... I dunno... a date?”

Your head snapped up, heat blooming in your already flushed face. “Are you asking me out when I looked like just finished fighting the flue monster?”

Kenma’s lips twitched upward into a faint smirk, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “You said it yourself earlier—you look like shit. But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Your jaw dropped at his bluntness, and you groaned, pulling the hood further over your head to hide your face. “Kenma, you’re terrible at this.”

“At what?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorway, clearly enjoying how flustered you were.

“At being romantic!” you sputtered, your words muffled by the fabric of his hoodie.

He chuckled softly, the sound rare but comforting. “Guess I’m doing something right if you’re this worked up.”

You peeked out from under the hood, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re lucky I’m too sick to argue properly.”

“Good,” he said simply, straightening up. “Then it’s settled.”

“What’s settled?” you asked, blinking in confusion.

“The date,” he replied, his tone so casual it made your head spin. “Once you’re not battling the flu monster anymore.”

You stared at him, half-expecting him to laugh or say he was joking, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned and walked toward the kitchen, leaving you sitting there, hoodie-swaddled and stunned.

“Kenma!” you called after him, your voice hoarse but incredulous.

“Take your medicine first,” he called back without turning around. “Can’t have my future date still looking like she just ended world war 3”

You groaned again, but this time, there was a smile tugging at your lips that you couldn’t quite fight off. Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad after all.

[junosmindpalace]

MISTLETOE, BUT ACTUALLY HOLLY

☾ ft. tetsuro kuroo

☾ sfw. because who doesn't find the tradition amusing? 920

somebody on the nekoma boys volleyball team thought it would be funny to hang mistletoe above the clubroom door. it was all in good fun, taking advantage of a year old holiday tradition to laugh at the embarrassed and defensive expressions of his fellow teammates as they tried to escape from the obligatory kiss in a fluster.

it was kuroo. kuroo was the somebody who thought it would be funny.

it was actually holly, and he’d explain the differences in the plant without anyone asking or caring, but the tradition still stood. his mom had asked him to rummage around in a box tucked away with old decor to see if she could find anything remotely festive to celebrate the holiday season. as he was rummaging around through bunches of tangled strings of fairy lights with dead bulbs and old gingerbread kits, his eyes brightened in curiosity as he retrieved a small plastic holly plant from the very bottom of the pile. 

and he’s sure glad he went through with his plan to bring it into school, too, because the look on yaku’s face as he grew red with anger and shouted over his embarrassment at walking under the plant with lev was absolutely priceless. 

“now the two of you gotta kiss.” he laughed as he leaned against the lockers, arms crossed over his chest. yaku gave him a murderous look. 

“we aren’t doing anything!” 

lev, too amused with admiring and flicking the mistletoe (which was shorter than him), didn’t pay much mind to yaku’s disgust, though if had noticed, he probably would’ve taken a disappointedly offended stance at his suggestion. 

“guess you’re in a festive mood, kuroo.” kai muttered as he glanced at him with a sort of nervous smile, removing his jacket. kuroo chuckled. 

“just thought it would be fun. i thought you of all people would get a kick out of it, yamamoto.” kuroo turned toward his junior with the distinct blonde mohawk, who only scowled at him from over his shoulder as he opened his locker. 

“you better watch your back, kuroo. you’re next!” he pointed an accusatory finger at him, still disgruntled over the fact that he had (nearly) walked into the club room in sync with kenma. kuroo scoffed. 

“like you could get me!” 

“yeah? stand under the doorway, then!” yaku chimed in, shooting him an irritated glare. kuroo’s eyes darted between him and the mistletoe at the door. there was only a brief pause in between before kuroo strided toward the door and lingered at the threshold, teasingly taking steps in and out of the club room. yaku hissed. 

“see? can’t get me.” he smirked, and with that, the rest of his body, along with his face, disappeared behind the wall and heading to unlock the gym. 

on his return back, kuroo puffed out a breath of fog and shivered. it had snowed the night before, leaving a strong chill in the dry air, and he was eager to get inside the club room as quickly as possible to where the heat was. 

just as he was about to step inside, however, he heard a voice, and immediately recognizing it, his heart somersaulted in his chest.

“kuroo!” it cried, and it sounded close too, so close that kuroo instantly felt his face warm when he turned around and was immediately met with your face only inches from him.

your cheeks were rosy from the cold, even despite a scarf wrapped snug around your neck and a hat keeping your head warm. your jacket also zipped up to your chin, and he couldn’t help but grow increasingly nervous with every passing moment he spent looking at your eager expression. 

it only took kuroo a single semester’s worth of partnerwork for him to grow utterly hopeless around you--and everyone knew it. it was hard for anyone to miss his clumsy demeanour or tinted cheeks around you, so much so it was a miracle that somehow you hadn’t picked up on all the signs. 

fumbling with his hands, tripping over his words, prolonged eye contact; he shrinks when he thinks about how he's reduced to a klutz around you.

“kuroo, hey! i'm glad i was able to catch you! i have these papers from minaho sensei that you missed when you were on your away game.” 

you extended a hand to hand him said papers, slightly crumpled in your freezing grip. he quickly took them from you upon noticing. 

“oh, thank you so much. i don’t know what i would do without—“ 

“ooooooou, kuroo, you sly bastard! you had to have planned that!” 

the two of you both looked in toward the classroom at a disgruntled, shirtless yamamoto, who seemed so distressed you were almost taken aback. kuroo narrowed his eyes.  

“what the hell are you talking abo—-?”

and then the green above his head caught his peripherals, and amidst the cold, kuroo started to sweat. 

the two of you slowly looked up in unison at the mistletoe, the mischief device of kuroo’s own division, gleaming in the sun. you had stepped onto the threshold under the mistletoe, resulting in the two of you now both stuck having to fulfill in a year old tradition. 

truly, it was a miracle you didn’t catch the signs. 

yaku’s eyebrow shot up in satisfaction, fulfilling kuroo's previous position with his arms crossed over his shoulder and leaning against the lockers. “got you.” 

the two of you slowly turn toward one another with wide eyes and flustered expressions. 

truly, it wasn't so much a miracle that kuroo didn’t catch the signs either.

[sunafc]

Caught in the web – 4, don't freak out

masterlist

• • •

No time like the present, right? Y/n repeated that in her mind like a mantra as she made her way to Suna’s window, in her spiderman suit, to reveal the truth to him.

She had seen Suna’s room a few times now, never from outside the window though (he lived on the fourth floor so it’s not like you could peek inside just by passing by the building).

He’s laying on the bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, probably watching silly tiktoks he would then send to the twins. She smiles at the thought and then knocks lightly on the glass, trying not to startle him too much. That doesn’t work, it’s not like you would expect someone — and spiderman of all people — to knock on your window at night.

Suna snaps his head towards the window so fast she thinks he could’ve sprained his neck and his phone gets thrown in the air.

‘Sorry,’ she says, not really sure if she can even be heard from inside. She watches him pick up his phone and hastily type on his phone for a few seconds while stealing glances at the window from time to time, to check she wouldn’t disappear.

Y/n knocks on the glass again and waves at him. He makes his way to the window warily and opens it, moving to the side to let the hero inside.

‘Thank you,’ the girl says dropping inside the room, her voice swapped with a fake one by the device Kenma installed in her mask so that people would not recognize her, ‘I was starting to think you would never let me in,’ she jokes.

Suna is speechless, standing in the middle of his room, not sure if what is happening is a dream or real life. Spiderman is in his room.

‘What are you doing in my room?’ Suna asks, almost in a whisper, almost scared that talking out loud could make the hero disappear or wake him up from his dream.

No time like the present, ‘I need to tell you something,’ (with that Suna is pretty sure this is a prophetic dream).

‘Me?’ Suna asks in disbelief, ‘You, the spiderman, has to tell me something?’ He thinks he’s finally going insane. All the studying and all the volleyball practices or maybe all the chuppets he ate finally got to him. Then he stops and it’s like a light bulb lit up in his mind, ‘Wait you know me?!’ His eyes are wide and he opens his mouth a few times just close it again without saying anything, ‘Oh my god,’ and it seems like he’s realizing everything now, ‘It’s real,’ he says, ‘You’re here, in my room,’ he sits down on the edge of his bed and then quickly gets up again, ‘Spiderman is in my room,’ his fingers run through his hair, ‘It’s real,’ he says again. He’s freaking out.

Y/n lets out a chuckle and grabs Suna’s hands — he feels like air got trapped in his lungs — ‘Hey, calm down,’ she says softly — but how could he, really? This is everything he ever wanted, his unattainable crush is in his room — ‘Take off my mask,’ she lets go of his hands.

Suna stands still for a moment, ‘What?’

‘Take off my mask,’ the girl repeats.

Suna got it the first time, though it seemed like his brain could not process the words, ‘No, I can’t,’ — this gains a laugh from Y/n.

She’s pretty sure she heard Suna say multiple times he wanted to find out who spiderman was, and now that he had the chance to he didn't want to. This was getting kind of fun, Y/n knew Suna liked spiderman but she didn’t think it was this bad. Suna had always been a quiet and calm person, quite the analytical person too. It was endearing to see this new side of him.

‘I’ll help you, then,’ Y/n grabbed the thin fabric of the mask and the base of her neck, ‘Don’t freak out too much, okay?’ She reveals half or her face by resting the mask on the bridge of her nose, ‘Hi,’ she says, and this time, without the mask in front of her, Suna can hear her actual voice. It’s oddly familiar and it takes him a split second to realize who it belongs to.

‘What the fuck,’ he mumbles taking a step closer, ‘It’s you?’ He holds the mask between his fingers and slides it off completely, ‘Oh my god,’ and then everything makes sense. The way she always had something coming up, how she would disappear sometimes or run away as soon as practice was over, the way when she left during the match was as the same time spiderman showed up at the bank, ‘What the fuck,’ he repeats, his two crushes were now one. His unattainable, unrealistic crush was now his friend and neighbor who could be, maybe, attainable. His friend is spiderman. The manager of his volleyball team. His neighbor. His heart is beating out of his chest and his hands are starting to sweat a little, he feels like he can’t move.

‘Don’t freak out,’ she looks at him, furrowing her brow, ‘Are you freaking out?’

‘Don’t freak out– You’re spiderman!’ He throws his arms in the air and his voice comes out a little higher than normal, ‘Of course I’m freaking out Y/n, what the fuck!’

He frantically grabs his phone and he types something hurriedly. The girl gets a glimpse of his group chat and she swiftly steals the phone from his hands with one of her spiderwebs — receiving a startled look from her friend — ‘Don’t text the twins, oh my god!’

‘Don’t steal my stuff!’ Suna scoffs, ‘That was cool though,’ he holds your wrist and turns it around to look at it from every angle, ‘How does this even work?’

notes:

– the first chat is when y/n gets suna's phone and tells him to not text the twins btw

– then all the other chats are later when y/n went back home

– suna is still freaking out actually

– atsumu is way too curious and he's dying TO KNOW

– osamu is a bit curious too but also very very tired and just wants to sleep

– suna asked y/n so many questions like the little nerd he is

– when y/n left to go back home suna was So Sad

– as always if there are typos in the written part.. my bad 😭 i always leave something behind

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those in pink could not be tagged :(

to be added to the taglist let me know with a comment or an ask!! <3

[jesswritesthat]

love your writing!! can i request a kuroo x an introverted reader? so they would be very similar to kenma in that, how would kuroo handle two so different personalities to his? thank you so muchh

Thank you!! Also I appreciate the request too - I shall do my best with these, hope you like.

>>>>——————————>

Kuroo Tetsurō with an Introvert Headcanons:

• Kuroo is generally good with a range of people anyway, and growing up with Kenma meant he has an in-depth understanding of introverts.

• So when you come along he’s naturally his friendly self even if you practically run away. He’s left standing there with his hand up to call out to you and a surprised look soon turning into an embarrassed smile.

• With time though, and patience he manages to get conversations going with you around school and isn’t upset he had to initiate them since he wants to get to know you and all.

• Kuroo is practically beaming when you start one with him though, he has to resist the urge to tease you about it, but remains really happy.

• Yourself and Kenma seem to have this telepathic understanding however, conversing with looks or hums of acknowledgement to the point Nekoma are sorta baffled.

“What— what was that?”

“They’re going to grab drinks from the vending machine, they’ll be back shortly.” The captain answers nonchalantly despite everyone being mildly confused with yours and Kenmas’ joint disappearance.

“They didn’t even say anything!”

“They did, you weren’t paying attention - get back to received.” Yeah, Kuroo has learned the language through observation.

• Tetsurō is likely very honoured when you become close enough to see him as a trusted person and will try and build that by making your life a little easier where he can.

• Tired of people? No worries, let’s evacuate. Anxiety? Gotcha covered. Bored or feeling off? Teasing until you smile - even if slightly annoying, he lives for it.

• Like Kenma, he will drag you two along if the situations calls for it. The two of sighing painfully in each of Kuroos’ hands whilst he’d taking you god knows where.

“Tetsurōōō.”

“Don’t Tetsurō me, neither of you can skip this.”

“Ugh.”

• Secretly, you’re self and Kenma will admit you’re grateful for the scheming bedhead, despite rarely telling him that (if ever) but you think you give it away more with the soft smiles you give him. The ones that melt him a little inside.

• Loves that his friends get along, and feels comforted knowing Kenma and you have got someone similar to talk to. He might miss out on spending time with you because of this sometimes, but despite his playful whining about it he encourages you to step out of your comfort zone.

• However he also respects The Comfort Zone™. If you’re not feeling up to anything, he’ll gladly compromise to suit your needs - and is of course appreciative if you do the same for him.

“Alright, how about a movie day instead?”

“But… you wanted to go to the museum…”

“It should still be standing next week, we’ll aim for an off-peak time if that helps.” He offers you a proud smirk, one that tells you he’s at ease with this.

“Thanks Tetsurō. Please pick the first film then, and I’ll get some snacks.”

• It’s not perfect of course, he can be a little persistent with his sense of adventure and even though it’s in good faith of wanting to take you to new places and experience things with you - it can be overwhelming. But after discussing your feelings you’re both able to reach understandings on these matters.

• Overall Kuroo can be introverted himself at times, and understands what you experience due to putting in the time to get to know you and Kenma. If there is anything amiss he’ll want to work through it, it’s just very healthy and comforting. A safe space~

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[bajicantspell]

Strangers

Summary : part two to Kodzuken in my DMs (press), although i wrote it in a way that reading part one isn’t necessary. The only context you need is that x reader is a small instagram influencer. This chapter is about them hanging out together, doing stuff and Kenma pondering how to make you his girlfriend :)

→ Warnings: smut,cursing (Fluff) 🎧

Kenma loved every conversation with you and couldn't get enough. Each text left him wanting you more ; you were just so… interesting. He was completely amused and infatuated with you. 

The fact that he also thought you were a total smoke show was a bonus as well. It was like having the best of both worlds – someone who was not only interesting to talk to but also insanely attractive.

He daydreamed about you a lot, whether he was grocery shopping and saw the drink you told him you like, or glancing at his screen every few minutes hoping you’d reply. He also thought about you, at other times. With one last whimper he flopped onto his bed, exhausted, reaching for the tissues.

He couldn’t help himself; everything you said, every picture you sent, every time you spoke during a call, made him feel a certain way. Your words, your voice, and your beauty all had a profound effect on him, stirring emotions he couldn't ignore. Each interaction left him more captivated, more infatuated with you, and he found himself constantly thinking about you during his alone time late at night. 

Kenma kept breathing heavily due to his exhaustion from his high, feeling his eyelids growing heavier. 

“Fuck, wish you were here.” He whispered to no one, hoping it could reach you. 

He just felt so, so fucking lucky. Not only were you everything he asked for, your university was also ridiculously close to his place, so you didnt live far either. It was as if everything was perfectly set up for you to get together. 

He’s a logical man, he wouldn’t be hopeful if the probabilities of you being together were low, but each day he was growing  more and more impatient.

He didn't know if he was doing the flirting thing right, but he assumed he must be doing something right since you agreed to go out with him a couple of times over the few weeks of knowing each other.

Over text you could talk together so much, no conversation was boring with you. But he spend the entire evening of your first date just staring at you in awe. You honestly looked better up close than in your pictures, he didnt know that was possible. He could tell you were a little nervous since you talked about everything and anything that came to mind. Your constant chatter was endearing, revealing your anxiousness in a way that made him sheepishly smile. It was clear you were trying to fill the silence, and he found your efforts adorable. 

Thankfully, when you talk you’re not that in touch with your surroundings, so maybe he got away with staring. 

Lying down in his bed, he smiled a little at the memory. He drifted off to sleep, knowing he’d get to see you again tomorrow. The thought brought him a sense of calm as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

Kenma has always been observant of people, a skill that served him well during his high school volleyball days. Old habits die hard, and his keen observation hasn’t faded. But now, it’s working against him as he watches you wrap your lips around the coke bottle, his eyes fixated. It makes him wish he were that bottle.

You noticed his eyes lingering.

"Ken', are you okay?" you asked.

"Hm? What?" he replied, caught off guard. 

He invited you to his house for a date night, away from the crowds. The past few times you went out together, you were stared at due to his presence, and he noticed it made you a little uncomfortable. He knew exactly how that felt. Back in high school, he had even bleach-damaged his long beautiful raven locks just to avoid standing out. Though he's an introvert himself, he eventually got used to the public attention fame brings and learned how to tune it out. But he understood that it's not something everyone can easily adapt to. He wanted to ensure you felt at ease, so inviting you to his house seemed like the best way to enjoy each other's company without any unwanted attention. 

"You were staring, Ken," you chuckled.

The way you said his nickname was smooth and sweet, giving him chills. Your seductive voice held him utterly entranced. 

“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty.” He said, leaning down to peck your lips. 

You shared a few kisses, both gentle pecks and passionate ones, but it never went further than that. You didnt know each other long enough for it to go further than that. 

You smiled against his lips and he swore his heart skipped a beat. You don’t know what you do to him. He was completely and utterly at your mercy, like putty in your hands. 

He knew that if someone who knew him well, like Kuroo, saw him interacting with you, they wouldn’t believe it was the same Kenma. 

He surprised himself, honestly. Kenma wasn’t used to being this gentle; he was more familiar with hearing his friends call him a bit intimidating or too straightforward. Though he wouldn't admit it, he kind of enjoyed leaning into his scariness. He also really enjoyed making fun of his friends, if he didn’t throw shit at Kuroo at least once it’d be a bad day. He took particular delight in finding the perfect moments to attack in his monotone voice, and Kuroo was often his favorite target. 

Honestly, you couldn’t believe that the guy taking you out, showering you with gifts and compliments, taking photos of you when you asked, and offering to help you with everything, was the same guy famous for his streams being the definition of chaos. The contrast was striking, and you wondered if you’d get to see both sides eventually. 

"Ken? Should we clean up and watch a movie?" you whispered softly, your face just inches from his.

"Mmhm," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "How about I wash the dishes while you pick out a movie?" His eyes lingered on yours, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, "No, I'll do it. You paid for the food."

He smiled, appreciating your gesture. "Alright," he said, leaning back a bit. "But next time, it's my turn to clean up."

With a playful nod, you headed to the kitchen, feeling his gaze follow you.

He snickered, enjoying the view as you walked away.

Kenma often found himself questioning whether his opinions of you were merely a romanticized version he had created in his mind, or if you truly were that perfect for him. He couldn't help but wonder if his feelings were clouding his judgment, making you seem even more flawless than you actually were. The way you made him feel was undeniable, but he often pondered whether his perception was influenced by his own desires and hopes.

He mentally shook his head—no, that’s not how his mind operated. Kenma was to his core, a realist, often setting himself up for disappointment by meticulously analysing every detail. There was no idealized version of you in his mind; it was simply you. He couldn’t find any flaws because, to him, there genuinely were none.

He knew sooner or later he’d have to officially make you his. The thought of it made his heart race with anticipation and excitement. 

The fact that you were still technically available made him simmer with jealousy, despite the unspoken understanding between you that you were unofficially exclusive. He knew he needed to change the 'unofficial' part, though.

He didn't know what got over him, but something compelled him to go after you. An irresistible urge surged through him, driving him to follow you into the kitchen.

You were washing the last plate, completely lost in your thoughts, when you were suddenly brought back to reality by the feel of two hands gently gripping your waist and a head resting on your shoulder. The warmth of his touch and the closeness of his presence sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you out of your reverie. His breath was soft against your ear, and you could feel his heartbeat against your back, grounding you in the moment.

“Well, hello there,” you chuckled, your voice light and amused, hiding your nervousness.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled against the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath tickled your skin, sending tingles through you. His arms tightened around your waist slightly, pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. You could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle press of his lips against your skin.

You giggled in response. 

“I’m almost done with these. Did you pick a mo—” you were suddenly interrupted by his grip tightening on your waist, bringing you closer, followed by the sensation of wet, lingering kisses being placed on the back of your neck.

“Kenma, what are you doing?” You asked, your voice firm and low. 

"Whatever you want me to. If you want, I'll stop," he replied matter-of-factly, his breath warm against your neck. His hands remained firmly on your waist, but he eased up slightly, giving you the space to decide.

You paused.

"I want... I want more."

Kenma's eyes lit up. "More?" he echoed quietly, a spark of excitement and anticipation in his voice. His grip on your waist tightened once again, his lips hovering just above your skin as he awaited your next move, eager to fulfill your desire.

“Mhmm,” you nervously replied, still gripping the plates. Your heart raced as you felt him grin against your neck, anticipation building with every second.

“Well, if you want more, I'll give you more,” Kenma murmured, his voice low and full of promise. His hands slid up your sides gently, and his lips resumed their trail of kisses along your neck, making your heart race even faster.

His hands slid under your shirt, over your bra, an action that made you set the plates down in the sink gently. The feel of his touch sent a sense of calm through you, and you leaned back into him; an action that made him smirk against your neck.

He played with the textured lace of your bra, his fingers tracing the delicate fabric as if asking for permission to go further. You nodded, neither of you making a sound, the tension between you too much to make a sound. His fingers, encouraged by your silent approval, continued their exploration with more confidence.

He stopped at the hook of your bra, bringing both hands to unclip your bra in one swift motion.

The ease with which he did it made you wonder how much practice he had. His fingers moved so skillfully, it seemed almost instinctual. But don't worry; it was just a fluke. Even he was surprised by it. In reality, he was navigating this new territory with as much uncertainty as you were. The chemistry between you made everything feel natural, even though his heart was pounding just as hard as yours.

When your bra was completely off, with just a little bit of hesitation his hands approached to cup your breasts. His touch was tentative at first, fingers lightly tracing over them as if he were memorizing every curve. 

"Fuckin' perfect perky tits." he mumbled against your neck, almost as if he were talking to himself. His breath was hot against your skin, and the words came out in a hushed, reverent tone.

You could only giggle in response. 

He pulled one hand out from under your shirt, cringing as the sudden cold air hit his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you provided.

With one hand still drawing circles around your chest, he brought the other one in front of you, his middle and ring finger just before your mouth. His silent request was clear, so he eagerly waited for you to part your lips. 

"Say it," you said, a sudden confidence overcoming you.

"Hmm? Say what?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity and anticipation.

"Say what you want me to do," you commanded softly, challenging him to voice his desires.

"Oh yeah? Okay then. Suck ‘em," he said with a chuckle, his fingers practically pushing your lips open. The playful command, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers, sent a thrill through you. You parted your lips, letting his fingers slide in, and the taste of his skin filling your mouth.

He was still pressed up against your back, and throughout this entire exchange, it was the only time he was glad he couldn’t see your face. He knew he didn't have the self-control to hold back if he saw your pretty, pouty lips wrapped around his fingers like that. The thought alone was enough to drive him wild, but the feel of your mouth on his fingers, warm and inviting, was almost too much to bear.

Eventually, much to his displeasure, he had to remove himself from your mouth.

His sticky, saliva-covered fingers quickly slipped back under your shirt before you could notice. Meanwhile, his other hand traveled just below the waistband of your sweats, tracing the small bow on your panties.

With the fingers that were mere moments ago in your mouth he started gently tracing your nipple, slightly pinching it in the process, causing you to mewl oh so quietly. 

He had to bite down on your neck to quickly ground himself. Hearing you make a noise, even if it was barely audible, for the first time had him battling every instinct to not pounce on you that same instant. The soft sound made him want to hear it more, and he struggled to maintain control, every fibber of his being yearning to give in to the moment. He was so hard it was aching. 

He couldn’t help himself. While maintaining the rhythm of his fingers, he began gently grinding against you, unable to resist the overwhelming urge.

“Fuck, baby. I never knew it could feel this good, never felt this good with anyone. ” he quickly mumbled, his voice whiney, almost a whimper. 

You couldn’t even process the new pet name, you were clenching around nothing and aching for attention too much. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you were touched like this. Kenma had his own struggles with love due to his fame, and although you were locally known at best, it didn’t mean you didn’t attract a bunch of insecure boys. Men who claimed they didn’t care about the online attention you received would quickly change their tune when they saw how many men were in your comments. Some even used you to boast to their friends about talking to you. As a result, every experience you had prior to this one felt completely one-sided. They didn’t care if you felt good or not, as long as they got off. Your last boyfriend couldn’t even make you come once in the entire three months you were together.

But Kenma was different. Kenma wasn’t insecure, and his feelings for you, although attraction based at first, were real now. His touch was filled with genuine desire and hunger, making you feel truly seen and wanted, craved even. The contrast was striking,and it made all those past experiences fade into insignificance.

“Kenma?” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Mhmm?” he responded, his voice husky he continued to touch you. 

“Please. Wanna come,” you pleaded, your need evident in every word. The desperation in your voice only fueled his own, making him more determined to bring you to the edge.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, pretty,” he said, his voice filled with urgency. The hand that had been teasing the edge of your cute panties slipped inside, his fingers skillfully finding their way to your most sensitive spot.

He paused for a moment as his fingertips brushed against your entrance. “You’re fucking soaked,” he murmured, a hint of awe and satisfaction in his voice.

“Maybe you’re doing something right, then,” you replied with a teasing smile, your voice a mix of playful and breathless. 

“Maybe I am,” he teased back, a smirk playing on his lips as his middle finger began making gentle circular motions on your bundle of nerves using your own juices to lubricate it. It was so lewd. The sensation was like nothing you’ve felt before, making you gasp and lean further into him.

‘Fucking gamer hands.’ You thought to yourself. 

As his fingers continued their rhythmic movements, you could feel the intensity building within you, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths grew shallower, your heart racing as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations he was creating. His other hand, still wet and playing around with your nipple, only fueled the buildup. 

Kenma’s eyes never left what he could see of your face, watching every expression. You couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes closed in pleasure. If you could, you’d be terrified by the dark, feline-like stare he wore. His eyes were intense, predatory, and focused entirely on you, taking in every detail of your reaction. The sight of you, lost in feeling because of him, only spurred him on. 

He could tell you were close.

He whispered softly in your ear, “Let go for me, pretty,” his voice a mix of command and tenderness. His assured yet gentle words urged you to surrender. 

The rhythmic circles on your sensitive spot grew more insistent and you could feel the tension building, a powerful wave approaching.

His free hand roamed your body, adding to the sensations. You felt completely surrounded by him—his presence, his touch, his voice—all combining to create an experience unlike any you had known.

As the intensity built, your breaths became ragged, your body trembling with anticipation. Kenma’s dark, intense eyes never left your face, capturing every expression and quiver of pleasure.

 “Let go,” he repeated, his voice now a husky murmur, filled with urgency and promise. His touch and words were irresistible, and you finally surrendered, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

Loud whimpers filled the house as your muscles tensed from the sensation. The intense pleasure made it impossible to stay quiet, each sound escaping your lips adding to the excitement. Your whole body tightened, responding to the waves of ecstasy, leaving you breathless and trembling in Kenma's arms.

He finally turned you around, taking a good look at your face. His eyes roamed over your features, taking in every detail—the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the dazed expression in your eyes. He smiled to himself, proud of his work.

“Was it good?” he asked, gently cupping your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, his eyes searching yours for an answer. Not that there was any doubt in his mind it wasn’t. 

“Are you joking? That was the best one I’ve had in a long time.” you replied breathlessly , a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

Your arms wrapped around him and he followed suit. You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, you calming down from your high and him holding you through it.

His fingers gently stroked your back, a soothing gesture that further eased you into a state of complete relaxation.

“Ken?”

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice gentle and attentive.

“I’m on the pill, you know,” you said, your voice teasing but clear.

He grinned slyly, “Oh yea? And why are you telling me this?” 

You stood on your tiptoes, gently pulling him closer by the collar. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn't resist, his breath hitching as you leaned in close. Your lips brushed against his ear, and you whispered, "Because I wanna go to your room so you can ruin me."

He hid his surprise and excitement, taking a step back. "Sorry, I don’t fuck strangers." He lied.

You were confused. "Strangers?" you echoed, your voice tinged with hurt and uncertainty.

“Well, yeah,” he said, leaning on the counter. “So unless you wanna be my girlfriend, it’s a no for me.” He smirked, watching your face change from confusion to realization.

The initial hurt faded, replaced by a mix of surprise and excitement. "Girlfriend?" you repeated, your voice softening. 

“Mmhm.” He replied with anticipation. 

A smile appeared on your face. “Oh, fuck you. I thought you were going to kick me out or something. Couldn't you ask like a normal person?”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “Where’s the fun in that?” he teased. “So, what’s it going to be? Girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide your grin. “Yes, Kenma. I’ll be your girlfriend.’ 

“Good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Now, about ruining you...”

You looked up at him seductively. “Gonna have to catch me first.”

Before he could process what you said, you quickly turned and ran to the bedroom, laughing.

“Don’t run so loud, you’re annoying,” he called after you, a huge grin plastered across his face as he followed you.

Kenma genuinely lost count of how many times he came in you that night. 

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 ↓。

a bunch of ppl requested anonymously for this to be a smut chapter, so I’m delivering lmaoo, you animals. (ILY THANK U FOR THE SUPPORT) Tags : @nazwrites-2002 @nishayuro @nnnyxie If u wanna get tagged in my next fic abt Suna or if u want a part 3 lmk <3

[mollyrolls]

hey cupid! ☆ iwaizumi h. x reader

7. horrible deja vu

warnings: language, suggestive jokes, fluff (????), angst, im sorry for the ending (no im not)

prev. / mlist. / next

taglist is open!

Iwaizumi has a horrible sense of deja vu. Bokuto is a nervous wreck, but it’s much less endearing this time. 

“Please just knock. It’ll be easier once you do.”

The two of them are standing outside Akaashi’s apartment, Bokuto frozen in place. It's a testament to his workout routine because Iwa’s arm would have been sore from this position by now. He is so close to their door, but cannot make himself knock. 

“I am knocking. Don’t you see me knocking, Iwaizumi? I’m knocking, right?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t bother responding, instead opting to knock on the door for him. A couple of short raps, which might be out of character for Bokuto but he doesn't feel like pounding on the door. He’s not that committed to acting. 

There’s scrambling behind the door, some muffled curses, and she appears.

“Oh, hey. We’re just about ready.” She glances back inside, presumably looking for Akaashi. 

When she finds no one, Hajime can see her steady herself.

“Do you want to come in?” 

The pure apathy in her voice would make you believe she was being tortured by asking that question. Iwaizumi smiles. To himself, obviously, but a smile nonetheless. It’s gratifying that his presence bothers her that much.

She holds the door wide open for Bokuto as he walks in first, but then not so subtly drops the door on Iwaizumi. Not enough to shut him out or make a scene but clear enough that she’s as unhappy about this as he is.

Pushing the door off of him, Iwaizumi takes in their apartment. It seems well-loved, with pictures and personal belongings scattered around. It’s almost enough to make him believe she has a heart.

The three of them stay huddled in the entryway, where he can just make out some tufts of bleached yellow hair shrunken into the couch. 

“So, this is us. That’s Kenma, and Tsukki is around here somewhere.”

Bokuto nods enthusiastically, taking in the apartment, but Iwaizumi is confused.

“Tsukki? Do you mean Tsukishima?”

“Yeah, Tsukishima Kei.”

“Oh. Do you only live with guys?”

He’s just curious, never accusatory. He’s not the one to judge someone based on their roommates. It would make him a violent hypocrite.

But of course, she could never see it that way. He can almost anticipate her defensive stance as she processes the words.

“So what if I do? Is there something you’re implying?”

“No.”

“Is there a problem with it?”

A problem? No. Does he like it? “No.”

“Do you say anything other than no?”

“Yes.”

“Can you two get a room, please? Or wait until I’m not here to listen to this weird foreplay?” The bleached hair croaks out from his hiding spot in the couch. Bokuto looks relieved, not used to seeing their fights up close.

Something in her alights with rage at hearing that. He’s not thrilled at the insinuation of sleeping with her, but he couldn’t be that bad. 

“I don’t know Kenma, can you shut up for once in your fucking life?”

There’s a level of hostility to her threat that even he has never received. Hajime shudders to think about what Kenma could have done to deserve that. Knowing her, probably nothing, but it’s not reassuring to know she can get worse. 

Kenma goes quiet but looks up at her like a hurt dog. She doesn't entertain it. 

The silence that falls is awful.

It forces her to realize how badly she snapped. She presses her eyes together and forces some deep breaths. He recognizes the pattern as one used to regulate breathing and feels the smallest stab of guilt for winding her up this much.

Another sigh, another horrible wave of deja vu.

“Sorry. About all of that.”

Jumping at the opportunity to say something not akin to fighting, Bokuto takes it. “It’s no problem, honestly.” 

She smiles at him gratefully. Another beat. No one knows where to go from here.

“So… Bokuto, how’d you find out about this festival?”

Her question is interrupted by Akaashi finally emerging, looking a little panicked and a little sweaty. 

“Hey.” He says, breathless. It looks like she could cry from relief.

“Hey.” Bokuto parrots back. 

The two of them hold a stare for a long minute, then break apart with twin blushes when Akaashi remembers he needs to get a jacket. 

Hajime looks at her. She looks giddy. 

Maybe this can work.

Akaashi comes back and they talk quietly to each other, making sure they have everything. She grabs her keys, which Iwaizumi takes as a sign to start walking out.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” he can make out Kenma asking her quietly.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Have a good night Kenma.”

He waits for her out in the hallway, letting Bokuto and Akaashi take the lead. She closes the door, acknowledges him with a huff, and stalks off. 

“Is everything okay?” 

The question leaves him before he can stop it. She freezes.

“Why the fuck would I ever tell you that?”

Okay. Not changing after all. 

He grimaces, not wanting to get into it again. But it feels inevitable. “Once again, the only reason I agreed to do this was if we were going to be peaceful. You didn't forget that, did you?”

“Of course not. Being peaceful doesn't equate to you instigating in my personal life.”

He doesn’t understand why she takes everything as a brutal attack on her life. He thinks back to the conversation he had with Oikawa and wishes he was here. He would get the worst I told you so in history. 

“I was just trying to make small talk.”

Her laugh is bitter. “That’s not small talk. Maybe start with the weather. My favorite color.”

“Okay. Fine. How’s the weather today?”

“Awful. Can we catch up?”

And she leaves without another word. He’s in for an even longer night than he thought.

Iwaizumi has always thought the lantern festival was stunning, no matter how cliché it may be. Trees illuminated with multicolored paper, bamboo lights lighting pathways, and jazz music filling the streets.

He never thought about coming here on a date, let alone a date with someone he truly hates. He prays she feels the same way and won’t ask him to do any of the couple-y stuff. 

She couldn’t possibly be that evil, right?

As they all look around and find things to try, she starts to head off with Akaashi towards a food stall. He intercepts her.

“You better not ruin this.”

“I’m not going to ruin anything, Iwaizumi.” He hates it when she uses his name. Something about it makes his blood boil.

“I’ll play your little game. But when it starts to go horribly, which it will, you can’t yell at me when I go and intervene. I’m not letting Akaashi go home miserable because of you for a second time.”

“I thought it was well established the reason they both were miserable was because of you.”

“Nothing has ever been established between us. As a matter of fact, Akaashi told me that I was the only reason the night was even remotely enjoyable.”

Fuck. Bokuto had mentioned something similar to that too. 

He couldn’t give up. His dignity was on the line. But he might have to concede. Just a bit.

“Are you sure he wasn’t just saying that to soothe your feelings?”

Well, it was a nice thought.

“No, Keiji’s not the lying type.”

“Mmm, well. Opposites attract.”

“And it takes one to know one. Should we keep going?”

“Are you guys coming?” Bokuto interrupts. He and Akaashi are both staring back pleadingly, silently begging them to say yes.

Upon seeing the worried expressions, she settles into a satisfied smirk and walks off.

“Right behind you.”

He tries several times to let Bokuto and Akaashi lead the way, but neither one of them makes the move to start it. It results in an awkward clump of people, taking up too much of the sidewalk. 

Every time Iwaizumi tries to fall back, Bokuto joins him and they all shift as one. No progress is being made that way.

On the bright side, she is getting them to talk. Deep down, in the bottom of his soul, she might have had the tiniest bit of a point.

But he knows he’s right too, and if they don’t get comfortable being alone then they’ll never work. And he’ll be subjected to double dates with her for the rest of time. 

He returns to his mission with a fervor. 

Waiting until she falls out of the conversation, he gently grabs her wrist and pulls her back, letting Bokuto and Akaashi continue with the crowd.

“Ugh! Let go of me! You don’t want to get arrested for kidnapping, do you? I swear I’ll start screaming; don't test me Iwaizumi!”

He waits until they’ve slipped off into one of the side streets, and peers out to watch, fully ignoring her cries. He knows she’s full of shit anyways.

It takes them a minute, but Bokuto and Akaashi notice they’re missing and look around terrified.

Hajime takes out his phone, hoping this plan works. He’ll never live it down if it doesn't, he technically is kidnapping her. Just a bit. 

Sending the text, he finally looks around to her. Steam is practically coming out of her ears.

“You have one second to explain what the fuck you think you’re doing or I will kick you so hard in the nuts your family line will end on sight.”

“You were right.”

Her face falls into complete shock, unable to keep her facade up.

“You were right, they needed some help. It was good that you helped them last time. I’m sorry.”

For the first time since Hajime has known her, she’s speechless. He’s a little shocked he’s doing this himself, but it had to be done.

“But, I’m also right. They have to be able to be alone together.”

“-I’m not saying it's your fault,” he stops her, reading her face clear as day.

“But if we’re there they aren't having their date. See what I mean?”

She stalls, clearly thrown off her game. This is a completely foreign experience for both of them and he feels as lost as she does.

There’s an air of hesitancy, suffocating the open street. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Just-”

She sighs to herself, defense mechanisms shattered.

“-please don’t grab at me anymore. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I won’t. Sorry.”

“It’s ok.”

He scuffs his shoe, trying to think of something to say.

“Um. Do you want to get food?” She asks it first and he just nods, words escaping him.

Stepping back into the street, she beelines ahead of him, going towards the stall she saw earlier. He follows a bit behind, giving them both the space to process what just happened. 

They came to an understanding. And it was civil. And he doesn’t know what to do with that.

As much as it was agitating, their bickering at least gave them something to do when subjected together. Was she going to want to get to know him now?

A chill goes down his spine at the thought. At least he still hates her. That won’t change.

She picks a stall with no line, goes up to the counter, and makes an order. Once she pays she steps to the side.

Two seconds pass before she speaks up. “Are you gonna go, or?”

She’s trying to return to normalcy. The delivery is a little strained and there’s a bit of pleading lost behind her eyes, as if willing him to take the bait.

“I’ll go when I feel like it.”

It’s easier this way. 

They finish their meals while walking, giving some excuse not to talk. Following the flow of people, they wind up just outside a lantern maze, spread across the long field. 

They both keep walking, moving upstream to avoid it. 

Iwaizumi’s gaze drifts slightly, admiring the sight of the field as they go. It really is beautiful.

Just out of the corner of his eye, he spots some white peaked tips standing on the outskirts of the maze, companion nowhere in sight.

“Fuck.”

She glances up at him at the intrusion, then turns to follow his gaze.

“Oh. Fuck.”

She can’t spot Akaashi either, which does not bode well for any of them. Bokuto starts to race toward them once he sees them, but Iwaizumi shakes his head to stop. All her telepathic attempts are rubbing off on him.

Bokuto balks, eyes opening in a what should I do? kind of way.

Just wait, Iwaizumi eyes back.

And just a moment later, Akaashi finds Bokuto again and all four of them relax just a bit. 

There’s a quiet chuckle, barely noticeable over the music surrounding them and the chatter of the festival goers.

“They act like middle schoolers. It’s kind of adorable.”

Of all the things she could say, Hajime never expected that. “What do you mean?”

“Asking for wingmen, doing the ‘my friend wanted me to tell you’ thing, the uncomfortable awkward pining. It’s charming.”

He almost laughs. “You don’t think the pining is absolutely embarrassing? I feel like crawling out of my skin every time it happens.”

She smiles that private smile again, looking down at the pair longingly.

“No, not really. I mean sometimes it gets rough, but most of the time I like it. It must be nice to like someone that much where you’re that nervous to be with them.”

He hadn’t thought about it like that. 

“Yeah. I guess so.”

She peers up at him, an unidentifiable mix of emotions painting her eyes.

“Why do you keep agreeing with me?”

He shrugs. “Am I not allowed to do that?”

“When did I say that? All I’m saying is you’re acting weird and it's freaking me out.”

And she's back. It feels like he can breathe a bit easier, now that she no longer has him in this chokehold. He wonders if she feels the same.

“Oh, I should’ve known being polite is weird for you. That’s on me.”

That irritating groan. “Of course, you can’t let things be normal for one minute. You’re so fucking annoying.”

“You are literally the one who started it.”

“I was not.”

“Yes, you were.”

And they walk off towards the river, steps in sync, arguing the whole way down.

They finish the trail outlined by the lanterns, coming across the main event. There’s a low bridge across the river where people can bend down and send their lanterns off with wishes for good fortune.

Hajime doesn’t feel like participating. He doesn’t know what he’d wish for.

She goes off to find a lantern for herself.

He watches as she talks to the guy behind the stall, pays for her small lantern, writes a quick note down, and goes to send it.

He watches as she bends down near a less crowded part of the river. She takes a moment, making her wish, and pushes the lantern off gently. It slides easily into the mix with the others, and Hajime can’t spot which one is hers anymore.

He thinks about making a wish anyway, going down to join her. But he decides against it, staying rooted to the spot, hands shoved in pockets, the picture of nonchalance. They’ve managed to have a… tolerable night, there’s no point in ruining it now. 

She finds her way back to him, her face the slightest bit warmed. Or maybe it’s the lights.

Probably that.

“Have you seen the others?” She asks.

He nods, gesturing over her shoulder with his chin. Akaashi and Bokuto are standing on the bridge, shoulders brushing as they watch the lights flow down. Bokuto is holding one of the larger lanterns in his hands, waiting for their turn.

A quiet gasp passes her lips, then a chuckle. “God, this is so corny. Like it’s straight out of a movie or something.”

He laughs. What?

The pure delight on her face is ridiculous. “No way. Did I just make the most miserable man alive laugh? I deserve an award.” 

“Please shut up.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.” None of their words have much bite to them.

The two of them stand back and watch as Akaashi and Bokuto scribble something on their slips of paper, slide them into the lantern, and release it together.

“I’ll take that apology anytime, you know.”

The classic scoff. “Can you seriously not let us enjoy one nice moment together?”

He catches it at the same time she does. Neither one of them acknowledges it. 

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B♡Y NEXT DOOR — kuroo tetsuro x male reader

w.c: 1.6k

WARNING: mentions of blowjobs, deepthroating, free-use, creampies, manhandling, fantasizing, kuroo is kinda a perv!, shy reader, college au.

a/n: msorry this is so short!! the request was kinda vague so i tried to put together what i could! it’s mainly kuroo’s thoughts for the nsfw part, but i think it’s still okay!

Dorm life is not your forté. Sure, you haven’t experienced it yet, but you can just tell it’s going to lead to your forthcoming demise. Exhibit A, it’s two in the morning and you’re only just now moving in after orientation. It’s late, the sun had set hours ago and it was time for the moon to occupy the sky. It’s your saving grace from the darkness of the hall, yellow light illuminating off the walls from just one small lamp by the communal mailboxes. You didn’t expect anyone to be awake, especially since you were particularly tired yourself. Your aching body pops with tension as you stretch your arms, lifting them above your head as your shirt rides up and exposes just a hint of your lower abdomen. Just a few more boxes to go.

You’re ready to curl up in bed, away from any prying eyes and fellow students. Starting during the second semester wasn’t a very smart move, everyone knew each other already, and you’d have ten times more issues trying to make friends when groups were already established. Who knew the type of people you’d be sharing a place with. You sigh, a quiet huff through protruding cheeks, and begin dragging a particularly heavy box inside your room.

“Hey! Be careful,” There’s a gruff voice behind you, raspy from either overuse or lack thereof, but fried from sleep nonetheless. You freeze, body stiffening as your back collides with the person behind you, much more solid than you’d originally thought they’d be. But you push through it, already embarrassed and body ablaze from the rocky first meeting. They let you step through, covering their ears dramatically at the sound of heavy cardboard scraping against the hardwood flooring. “What’s your deal?!”

Ah. It’s a man behind you, no older than you, who stands tall with long, lean limbs. His hair is dark, barely even brown, swooped up with what you assume is copious amounts of gel, save for a few tufts of hair that rest along his right eye. In the dark lighting you can’t exactly make out all his features, but you can tell his facial structure is nice, with the way the moonlight peeking through the blinds cups his cheeks.

His footsteps pound against the floor as he turns to walk around you and the box, hunched over to pick it up himself— save the headache. Apologies bubble in your throat, threatening to spill off your tongue, but despite his words he doesn’t seem all that bothered. Your arms fall to your sides, head bowed as he carries the box somewhere with the others. Should you introduce yourself?

“Sorry…” You start, voice quiet and reserved. You can’t tell if he heard you, but you continue anyway, fighting the urge to find the nearest closed off room and hide. “I didn’t… They said no one would be here today.”

You can hardly see him, just a silhouette of a man, but it makes a movement as if he’s scratching his chin. Maybe you said something wrong.

“Oh,” Is all he says, and you can imagine his lips curling into a small ‘o’ along with it. He really should listen more. In fact, the front door features a calendar with this very day circled, written in messy handwriting ‘roommate move-in.’ “Kenma said something about that. I’m Kuroo, just housesitting!”

So he’s..not your roommate, then? There’s a beat of silence before he flickers on the lights, bright and harsh against your unadjusted survey. Your face is distorted cutely, eyes squinting and eyebrows furrowed as you blink around the room, taking in its appearance. It’s minimalistic, not much besides two beds, video game consoles, and freshly organized wires. You assume the other door by the right of the room leads to the bathroom. You look back at the man, finally adjusted, with hesitance.

He’s staring at you, hazel upturned eyes narrowed like a cat. A shiver runs down your spine, ice cold and painfully obvious as you nervously shift your weight from one foot to the other, shrinking under his gaze. He seems to soften at that, manually widening his eyes so he appears less intimidating. Despite it all, though, he’s cute. With a strong jaw and straight eyelashes, a soft yet handsome and defined face. It’s only then you notice his clothing— or, lack thereof. His boxers are striped, black and red, and that’s about it. You shuffle awkwardly, biting your tongue.

“Well! This place is gonna be real quiet,” He jokes to himself, lips curling upward as he tears his gaze away from your handsome face. Between you and Kenma, he’s sure there won’t be much conversation. You’re not exactly blunt, though. Maybe a ball of nervousness, but not blunt, from what he can see.“You’re a lot cuter than I thought.”

“You too.” Your response is immediate, but the wide eyed expression on your face makes him think you didn’t actually mean to say it. You’re really soft spoken, too. If anything else was going on he surely would’ve missed it. Kuroo feels himself smile.

“Oya? Did you think I was ugly?” He strikes a childish pose, resting his face in his palms as he bats his long eyelashes in your direction. He relishes the sound of your laughter, just as quiet as your voice. He wonders how loud you can get.

He watches you shake your head in response, a genuine smile gracing your face as you pick up the last of your things— blankets and pillows—and carry them over to your assigned bed. His eyes never leave you, glued to your face as you place sheets on your bed and fluff your pillows. You look so easy to move, he could just flip you over and do it for you, hold onto your waist and lift you up like you’re a feather. Pretty, too.

Kuroo clears his throat, dropping his arms to discreetly cover his erection. At this rate he’ll have to tuck his dick in his waistband.

He imagines pushing you down onto your knees, pretty mouth open wide enough for him to rest his cock on your pink tongue, loud slaps echoing through the room. The wet squelch of his precum frothing on your tongue, the head of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth at random moments, just so he can hear you gag and choke on his cock.

He imagines a particularly sharp thrust down your throat, watching it bulge and contract around his dick until you can’t breathe. But even then, you’d hold onto the back of his thighs, try to push him deeper while you cry over not being able to take him deeper.

He imagines burying your face in his pubes, watching your teary eyes roll back when he finally fits himself down your throat, cock twitching as your ruined face presses against his hip. That would be enough for him, your pretty, fucked-out face looking back up at him as your throat makes humiliating noises around his shaft.

He imagines cumming down your throat, guiding himself out when it’s apparent you might black out, watching you catch your breath with loud, rushed pants. He’d cup your face, tapping it gently so you look up at him, forcing you to follow his slow breaths, chest expanding with ease. He’d call you his good boy, slapping his dick against your cheek.

He imagines lifting you up by the soft skin of your throat, watching you stumble over your own feet and lean into him for stability. Your eyes would be glassy, glazed over as you beg him for something, anything. Any type of release, any touch to your pretty body. You’d beg so pretty, soft voice suddenly loud and high pitched as you bounce where you stand, whining out, “Ple—ase, Tets!”

He imagines slutting you out, turning you into a shameless whore while he slides back into you for the third time that day. He wonders if you’d hide your face, closing your legs and whining about the intrusion just to have them parted again, Kuroo’s much stronger, bigger hands digging into the plush of your thighs to inspect your sopping hole. That just wouldn’t do, he’d pull your hands away from your face, holding your jaw between his fingers so you can watch his cock sink into you again and again, cum cascading down your thighs and dripping onto the floor.

He imagines making you beg for it, your entire body tense as he fucks into you, holds you open with his hands to watch his cock get swallowed by your velvety walls. You’re so shy, so quiet and timid. So he imagines your squeals, your mind too far gone after hitting your sweet spots over and over and over. You’d be his sexdoll, pliant and moldable in his hands as he bounces you on and off his cock, even feeding his leaking cum back to you. He wants to smear it over your lips and have you wear it like lipgloss—

Your mattress squeaks, loud enough to snap the business major out of his thoughts, and he finds you shyly sitting crisscross on your bed. Your head is tilted, sweet like a puppy as you blink up at him, voice barely above a whisper.

“Uhm, Kuroo…? Are you okay?”

“Right, right!” Kuroo nods, glad the patch of precum pooling in his boxers is covered by the deep shade of fabric. He bounces on his heels, stiffly shuffling further toward the bathroom as he speaks. “There’s a place opening up on campus that sells really good fish. We should go sometime! Get to know each other, right?”