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lissyneedstopissy · 5 hours ago

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tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter nine – a bouquet of flowers

wc 4609

MDNI.

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Four days after the meeting, the day of MSBY’s home game.

Multiple events, positive and negative, had occurred throughout the past couple of days. Who would’ve thought that going to one of Osaka’s most popular bars could result in a scandal? Especially one that you were involved in. Thankfully, as word got around that it was Osamu that had done the damage for your safety, many social media audiences began to ease up on MSBY, and although past events have yet to die down permanently, it’s been steadily decreasing in popularity.

Reason one, because it quickly turned into a non-celebrity issue, and reason two, there are now more important things for everyone, including yourself, to focus on. Specifically MSBY's home game against EJP Raijin, from Shizuoka.

You were currently overseeing the pre-game interviews alongside a few of your coworkers. Multiple news reporters and journalists were present, asking multiple questions to a couple of the older MSBY players.

It had been going on for about forty minutes, unfortunately increasing your boredom as every second passed.

buzz!

Since you were on the side, and out of camera view, you pulled out your phone from your black MSBY jacket, and looked to see who had texted you.

As you silently sighed of relief, a thought of confusion ran through your mind.

‘It’s like he knew I was bored… weird…’

You put your phone back into your pocket, and eyed the room full of people, making sure nobody had their eyes on you. Once the coast was clear, you began to walk against the wall and to the door in a hurry, making minimal noise.

The reason you asked Hinata if Atsumu was present or not created a small feeling of guilt within you. Ever since you, and both twins had to meet with MSBY’s publicist, you haven’t spoken to Atsumu since that day, giving him the space he desired. Practices hadn’t all been that weird, but moments of awkwardness would arise if you happened to get a bit too close to him.

Moving on to Osamu, the both of you essentially decided to continue your situationship with each other, yet agreed to take a small break to let everything sink in. Everything was made easier due to the fact that Osamu had to take a small trip to Tokyo to solve a small conflict at his somewhat newly opened Onigiri Miya for about a week. Regardless of this, you both still made an effort to text each other at least once a day to check up on the latter.

You thought that a bit of separation would help let everything ease in, but truth to be told, you miss him. A lot more than you would’ve liked.

As you opened the doors with the sign ‘Gym 2,’ you immediately noticed three men standing towards the middle of the court, two of which were wearing a lively yellow jacket, different from the standard gold that MSBY wears. The other was none other than Hinata, who had an intrigued expression on his face.

When you stepped inside, all attention was immediately turned towards you, with Hinata acting as excited as ever.

“[L/N]!” he shouted, lightly jogging over to you.

You lifted up one of your hands and slightly waved as a greeting towards the ginger, with a smile on your face.

He quickly grabbed onto your shoulders as soon as he became within reach, and almost instantly, a serious expression plagued his face.

“Listen, I told you I wanted to introduce you to one of my friends, but one of my other friends came out of nowhere, so now you get to meet both of them. Okay?” He asked, slightly shaking your body.

“Yes sir.” You rolled your eyes, and answered sarcastically, taking his hands off your shoulders.

The both of you quickly walked over, and were greeted by the two other men with a bow, to which you reciprocated.

“This is Komori Motoya, he’s EJP’s libero, and surprisingly enough, Sakusa’s cousin.” Hinata pointed at the brown haired man, who in your opinion, was tall for a libero.

“Wait, you’re Sakusa’s cousin?” It was now you that spoke, a surprised look on your face. He looked nothing like him, physically, and mentally, to the best of your judgement.

Komori chuckled, and rubbed the back of his head with a happy, carefree expression on his face. “Yes, I am. We both went to Itachiyama together. It’s nice to meet you, [L/N]!”

“Ah, I see. It’s nice to meet you as well, Komori.”

“Aaaand this lanky guy is Suna Rintaro!” Hinata moved his pointed finger to the left of Komori (your right), and continued. “He’s EJP’s middle blocker, and he went to high school with Atsumu and Osamu at Inarizaki.”

As you kept that same welcoming smile on your face, you could feel your heart drop and slightly begin to pound due to the mention of the Miya twins. As you quickly observed the man in front of you, you couldn’t help but notice he kept his eyes on you in a way you didn’t know how to describe. He stared at you like… he already knew you?

Assuming that you’re just being paranoid for no reason, you muttered out a small “Nice to meet you, Suna.” yet he kept his eyes on you as he hummed for a response.

“Um…” You started, looking at the three volleyball players in front of you. “You guys excited for the game?”

“Yes, I can’t wait to beat EJP!” Hinata shouted, with two thumbs up accompanying his short stature. You giggled as Komori lightly slapped Hinata’s shoulder as a response to his statement, responding with a small “You wish!”

The four of you began to engage in small talk, moreso, Hinata, Komori, and yourself were talking with a few small remarks from Suna here and there. Knowing that Suna was, and probably still is, friends with Osamu changed everything for you, as he hadn’t properly introduced you to his circle yet.

A couple minutes passed by, and Komori had asked Hinata to show him where the bathrooms were. Your muscles stiffened at this, realizing you and Suna would have to be left alone, which was not ideal at all.

As the two of them exited the practice gym, you were left shifting from one foot to the other, waiting for Suna to say something.

Anything.

Yet, that never happened.

You watched as he looked around the gym, hands in his pockets, most likely staring at some of the nearby banners on the walls, as you were just utterly shocked by the audacity. The audacity of him not even trying to speak to you.

“So…” You started, resulting with him immediately turning his whole face to you, maintaining eye contact. The previous smile on your face was meant to give off a relaxed impression, yet that was quickly replaced with a tight-lipped gesture of uncomfortable acknowledgement.

You looked around the gym hoping to gain inspiration from anything, and that’s when your eyes landed on a banner showing a certain blonde-haired setter. You slightly grimaced at this, but was thankful for it because of the inspiration you gained.

“What was highschool like with Atsumu?” You had finally continued your sentence, firmly placing your hands behind your back.

Suna had raised an eyebrow at this. “It was whatever. Atsumu hasn’t changed a bit, so…”

“Oh yeah? How?” You countered.

“Atsumu’s still a big fat jerk.”

You snorted with laughter, almost instantly covering your mouth. Before you could internally berate yourself, Suna had finally shown an expression of comedic relief on his face.

“Atsumu can be a jerk sometimes.” You agreed, letting out some of your past emotions. “But he’s still a nice guy. He was my first friend when I got hired to work for MSBY.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You confirmed, but hesitated for a bit before speaking once more. “He was a jerk at first, though.” This time, a small chuckle was brought out of Suna. Obviously, you hadn’t known him for long, but he didn’t seem like an easy guy to elicit a reaction from. As he had calmed down, silence took over once again.

This time, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as before, but you would’ve liked to start another conversation with him about something.

“So, how’s Osamu doing?” The same voice from earlier spoke.

For some reason, you could feel yourself glitch internally. A confused smile was placed on your face as multiple thoughts began to run through your head.

“How’s– what?” You asked, keeping that same expression on your face.

“How is Miya Osamu doing? Ya’know, Atsumu’s twin?”

“I know who Osamu is.”

“Then why didn’t you answer my question when I first asked it?”

You deadpanned, pausing to think of an answer. “Well… he’s your friend, right? You should know how he’s doing.”

A small, yet mischievous smirk appeared on Suna’s face as he leaned closer to you, dropping his hands to his side. “You’re right. Yet, you seem to be much closer to him than I am.”

You stared at the middle blocker directly in the eyes whilst swallowing a lump in your throat. He knows about you and Osamu? Since when? As numerous thoughts about the situation popped up, you could see a slight glimmer of amusement in Suna’s eyes.

“Calm down, [L/N]. Why are you tensing up?”

“I’m not tense.” You replied in that instant.

“Osamu told me about you when you guys first met.” He responded, putting his hands in his pockets. A feeling of increased confidence suddenly surged through your body, causing your eyes to widen ever so slightly. Yet, you stayed silent, thinking about your recent lack of communication with one another.

“It’s not my place to really say anything but, um,” Suna took his hands out of his pocket, and began to zip up his EJP jacket. “He likes you. A lot.”

A hint of pink began to creep upon your cheeks, but you didn’t care.

“Is that so?” You asked softly.

“He talks about you whenever he gets the chance, and frankly enough, it’s getting irritating.”

You scoffed lightly at this, crossing your arms. “Wow, thank you!”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Suna looked towards the clock on the wall, signalling that it was time for him to leave. He politely bowed to you, and as he turned on his heel to walk towards the door. You watched him walk away, and as he approached the door, you suddenly blurted out a question you weren’t even thinking about.

“Wait, has he talked about me these past few days?” You slightly shouted, loud enough for Suna, and only Suna to hear. He looked at you over his shoulder, same neutral expression on his face as you began to speed walk over to him.

“Yeah. He said he felt bad about the whole club thing.”

You sighed lightly at this, looked down at your feet and muttered out a small ‘fuck.’ An internal realization came to you at this moment: You truly didn’t want what you have with Osamu to end at all.

Looking back up at Suna, a small smile appeared on your face. “Good luck during the game. You’re gonna need it.” Suna rolled his eyes, and turned back towards the door, opening it and exiting the gym. “Yeah, right.” He loudly scoffed.

Now that you were by yourself in the gym, you began to reflect on the past month, perhaps a bit more, you’ve been with Osamu. Having been to Onigiri Miya more times than you could count, you became extremely aware of the fact that you’ve actually never gone on an actual date with him. How could you not have noticed this until now? I mean, you’re both busy people with jobs, but regardless, you both simultaneously made time for FaceTime calls.

Pulling out your phone, you hesitated for a moment, before ultimately texting Osamu and attempting to break your distance with one another.

Immediately putting your phone on do not disturb, you exited the gym and began to walk towards the main arena, since the game was set to start in one hour. You had decided on the way that you would deal with Atsumu’s antics later, and now begin to focus primarily on doing your best to monitor the game.

15:17.

Score: MSBY, 3. EJP, 2.

The crowd watching erupted into cheers, celebrating MSBY’s victory against EJP Raijin. As all of the sweaty men shook hands with each other, you stood by Coach Foster, clapping due to the victory, as well as the amusement you’ve been given from this game. It was a pretty close game, but thanks to Atsumu’s quick thinking in the last set, MSBY was able to gain a two-point lead, guiding his team to victory.

As the announcer thanked the audience for coming to watch the game, everybody had soon begun to disperse, except for the Black Jackals. This was your cue to leave the gym, and if you would like, the stadium in general, since you weren’t tasked with creating any content for this game. Usually, you would wait for your friends to come out so you would congratulate them, but, there’s different circumstances. Letting out a small groan, you made your way through one of the doors on the court, and exited through a small hallway, leading you to the first floor of the main area, showing some audience members waiting to take a picture with the players. Ultimately deciding you would wait for your friends, you began to walk around for a bit.

After remembering that your phone was on DND, you swiftly grabbed it out of your back pocket, looking through your notifications, with a couple standing out to you.

‘osamu; 4 missed calls.’

As you stared at these calls, you could feel your heart begin to swell with nervousness. Did something happen? You quickly pressed on one of the missed calls and held your phone up to your ear, speed walking to a more deserted part of the commons area.

[bold is y/n, bold + italics is osamu]

“[Y/N].”

A male voice was heard on the end of the receiver. The male voice you’ve been craving to hear for days caused your heart to flutter.

“Osamu, what’s wrong?” You asked with genuine concern.

“Are ya still in the stadium?”

“Uh, y-yeah.” You coughed away from the phone to clear your throat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but listen, do ya’know where my concession stand is?”

“It’s by the yakitori concession on the second floor, right?”

“Right. Can ya start making yer way there?”

Your chest began to grow tight, heat flowing throughout your body. “Why?” You quietly questioned. “I think the floor is closed.”

You could hear a small chuckle from the other end. “Yer a JVA employee, ain’t ya?”

“Well… yeah, but–”

“No buts. Go to the second floor.”

click!

You stared at your phone, which now showed your lock screen. Taking a deep breath in, you walked towards the escalators, which were being guarded by two hefty security men. As you showed them your JVA badge, they let you up with no problem.

As you slowly ascended to the second floor, your heart kept the same, fast-tempo beats you were feeling earlier. Internally, you were absolutely bouncing up and down.

Reaching the second floor, you looked to your right, as you had forgotten which side Onigiri Miya was on. It’s also to be noted that the floor was completely empty. Like, nobody around at all since it seemed that all the concession stands were closed. Realizing Onigiri Miya wasn’t on the right, you turned towards the left, only to be met with an all too familiar male figure in the distance.

He was standing in front of Onigiri Miya, facing towards you holding something rather large… and pink in his hands. From what you could tell, he was wearing baggy black jeans, with a grey sweater, and underneath, a white undershirt which slightly peeked out. You were half admiring the outfit, half scolding yourself for not looking as presentable.

Overwhelmed, you stood still. Almost immediately, you recognized the male figure as Osamu, whom you have craved to see for days.

As he began to walk towards you, your body almost instantly followed his movements. The closer the two of you got, the more you could see clearly. He was holding a bouquet, with all of the most gorgeous flowers, such as stargazer lilies, baby’s breath, daisies, and pink peonies, wrapped in a beautiful pale pink paper, tied with a silk, white ribbon.

Soon enough, the two of you stood in front of one another, mere inches apart.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. In truth, you didn’t know what to say. He had a toothy grin on his face, as well as a small amount of red painting his cheeks. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating you in the way that you liked, re

“Hello, [Y/N].” He spoke first, radiating euphoric energy.

Finally, words came out. But, not the words you expected. “I thought you were in–”

“Mmhm, I was.” Osamu interrupted, still smiling lightly.

“What are you doing here, Osamu?”

He looked down towards the flowers, then back up to you. He stared into your eyes as if he was hypnotized by you. “Well, I’m here ta’ ask ya on a date.”

As much as you wanted to take this situation seriously, your lips began to upturn into an uncontrollable smile. “Oh?”

He nodded once.

“This isn’t how I wanted ta’ ask ya, but I wasn’t gonna let ya beat me to it.”

Without realizing it, your bodies moved together, closer to one another as though you were being pulled to each other. As you looked down, eyeing the flowers, and admiring their beauty, Osamu’s gaze stayed on you, holding an affectionate intensity towards you. As he held out the flowers with both hands, you looked back up at him and accepted, your hands brushing against his.

You put the flower in between your left arm, and waist as a way to balance it, finally hooking your right arm around your neck and pulling him into a hug. A hug that he wasn’t going to deny. As he wrapped both of his hands around your waist, leaning into the crook of your neck, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in.

“I can’t believe you came from Hyogo just to counter ask me out.” You lightly huffed, whispering affectionately in a joking manner. “You could’ve waited until you finished business, ya’know.”

Osamu began to pull away, keeping one hand on your waist, and moving the other to your face, brushing a stray lock out of the way and moving it behind your ear, his hand remaining on your cheek.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t wait.” His voice hushed, as a way to express tenderness.

As the energy between the two of you shifted to something more intimate, your gazes locked, and time seemed to pause. It was just the two of you in this very moment as your faces grew close together, until your lips interlocked in a soft, yet passionate kiss. The movements between the two of you were synchronized. Your pulse raced as butterflies flew throughout your stomach, noticing how soft Osamu’s lips were.

Even though there was nothing in the world to describe how badly you wanted this kiss to last for eternity, you slowly pulled away as your eyes fluttered open. Immediately noticing the red hue on his cheeks, your smile grew larger.

“So, uh–” Osamu cut himself off, coughing as an attempt to clear his throat from the newfound nervousness he was experiencing. “How ‘bout that date?”

“What?”

“The date… you didn’t say yes or no.”

Almost instantly deadpanning, you lightly slapped his chest. “I just let you kiss me. If that’s not enough for a ‘yes,’ then I don’t know what is.”

Osamu hummed amusingly as he wrapped his muscular arm around you, guiding you to the escalator to descend to the first place.

“My mom taught me ta’ never assume.”

You sighed dramatically, looking back at the bouquet once more. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.” Without warning, Osamu kissed your forehead lightly, eliciting a pink tint on your cheeks.

“What was that for?” You asked accusingly.

You could feel the man beside you shrug. “Dunno. Yer very kissable.”

Letting out a small ‘ugh,’ the both of you stepped on the escalator, using this opportunity as a way to look over the handle to see if any fans were still around, and to your (somewhat) surprise, there was nobody. Except, as the closer you got down to the first place, the closer several male voices got to you and Osamu. These voices were easily recognizable as members of MSBY.

“Guess I should congratulate ‘Tsumu.” Osamu muttered, noticing the voices as well.

Humming in approval, and looking back at the bouquet for the nth time, you pointed out a very obvious fact. “He’s gonna ask about the flowers.”

“Yeah.” Osamu paused for a second, looking over the railing on your side of the escalator. “I’ll just tell him I asked ya out on a date.”

Averting his eyes towards you, he could see your nose slightly scrunch up, knowing that you were most likely thinking about the reaction Atsumu was going to give this time.

“I don’t think he’ll be upset, [Y/N].”

You looked up at Osamu, slight confusion plaguing your mind. “Really? I still feel kinda bad, to be honest.”

“He’s a grown man, ya’know.”

Simultaneously stepping off the escalator, Osamu removed his arms from your body as you both walked to the right, to be met with Inunaki, Hinata, Atsumu, and Barnes about to walk directly past you. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t an option as they all immediately noticed Osamu, yourself, and the big bouquet of flowers you were holding.

A moment of silence passed, as all men besides Atsumu let out a “OOOOOOOOOOO!” in a teasing manner. You didn’t focus on them, as you were eyeing Atsumu’s facial expression. He looked faintly shocked, yes, but he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at his brother.

As the blonde walked towards his brother, arms open as an invitation for a hug, you took that as a hint to make your way over to the men who were still hooting and hollering.

“Did Osamu get that for ya, [L/N]?” Barnes asked, eyes alight with joy.

“He did. Isn’t it so pretty?”

The three men agreed, words overlapping one another as they all discussed the beauty of each individual flower. You took this as a quick opportunity, and turned your head over your shoulder. The twins were exiting the hug, and you could hear a bit of their conversation, mainly Atsumu expressing his surprise for Osamu being in town for the game. Turning back, your eyes landed on the ginger in front of you, eyes full of curiosity. You tilted your head slightly.

“So, are you and Atsumu like…?” He asked quietly, being cautious of the setter hearing him.

“We haven’t really, uh, spoken yet.” You answered, a sad smile took over your face. Ever since the meeting with the publicists, the whole team was able to sense the tension between you and Atsumu, knowing you both were very close, but now distanced due to this small issue.

“You want to talk to him?” Now it was Inunaki speaking, looking like he had a solution in mind. You nodded at this. “Alright, the three of us will leave, and then–” The libero cut himself off, looking at the dark haired man behind you, walking towards the four of you.

“I’m not gonna lie…” Osamu started, the corner of his lip turned upwards, leaning in to hug you. “I have ta’ get back ta’ Hyogo soon to finish up everythin’.” You shook your head, letting out a small ‘tsk tsk.’ as you mirrored his movements. “I told you you should’ve just waited until you finished.”

“Blah blah blah.” He muttered jokingly as he pulled away from your warm embrace, waving at the three other men, making his way towards the exit of the arena.

“We’re gonna head out as well, then.” Barnes confirmed as he put both of his hands on either shoulder of his two teammates.

“Good luck!” Hinata whisper-shouted, two thumbs up on display as the three followed shortly after Osamu, towards the exit. With that, you finally turned around, immediately catching wind of Atsumu’s eye contact on you. Walking towards him, you noticed his hands were in his pocket, with an apologetic look on his face.

A brief period of silence passed. “I–” The both of you spoke at the same time, immediately interrupting yourselves.

“Go ahead.” You offered to Atsumu, to which he nodded and took a deep breath.

“Nice flowers.” He nodded towards the bouquet resting in your arms. “‘Samu got ‘em for ya?” As a response, you nodded, unable to contain the jittery smile you’ve been holding in, merely wanting to express this with your best friend.

“Listen, [Y/N],” He started, moving his hand to rub the back of his nape. “I’m sorry if I overreacted and pissed ya off the other day. If you and ‘Samu wanna be together, then who am I to hold y’all back?”

“Thank you, Atsumu. I’m sorry for going behind your back and meeting up with your brother. He’s too nice of a guy for me to back off of.”

He chuckled. “Yer all good. I never wanted ta’ stand in the way of yer love life or whatever in the first place, but I just wasn’t too happy that you fell for ‘Samu.”

You giggled at this, creating a comfortable silence between the two of you for a couple of seconds.

“We still besties?” Atsumu asked, opening his arms the same way he did for his brother. “Of course, ‘Tsum.” Accepting his invitation, hugging him tightly just as best friends do to one another.

“Don’t you still have to get on the bus?” You questioned, gesturing your head towards the doors of the arena. The blondie sighed dramatically, nodding, and beginning to walk as you followed him, having to also make your way to your car.

As you both exited, the light breeze immediately blew on the two of you. The weather was beautiful, which is better than you could’ve ever asked for, especially after such an exciting day. “Nice game, by the way. You played well.” You spoke once more, acknowledging the earlier event.

“Um, just well?” He challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, excuse me. Might I say thou’s playing style art akin to a masterpiece, possessing an unparalleled essence of singularity, my good sir.”

Atsumu snobbily laughed, and waved his hand out in front of him. “Why, thank you madam [L/N]!” The two of you regularly laughed at the medieval speech, ever wondering how you could’ve gone days without speaking to one another.

“Also, by the way.” You started once the two of you calmed down. “What made you change your mind about me and Osamu?”

“Oh.” It seems like he was taken a bit back by this, yet had an answer ready. “Frankly enough, I don’t mind you being my sister in-law.”

You choked on your saliva, but in a good way. “Woah, we’re not even official yet!”

Atsumu hummed at this, putting his hands back into his jacket pockets. “Didn’t ‘Samu tell ya?”

“Tell me what?”

“He only dates to marry.”

author's notes !

𐙚 sorry for the small break , but if you're a college student , you'll understand .

𐙚 i may or may not be uploading a chapter next week as well ... woops

𐙚 THEY FINALLY KISSED YAHOOOOOOO !!!

𐙚 reblogs are always appreciated !

taglist: @reuka1 @enepsigosthelast @arwawawa2 @miruac @loveelylani @ohgodthevoices @pickuptruck01 @haechansbbg @nixilyy @origamipivo @arteful @luv-toruu @mizzmarmar @p4lli @amterasuu @k0z3me

(some of the tags might've not worked , sorry !)

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medblackcoffee · 2 months ago

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☀️🌊🌸

#haikyuu #haikyu fanart #haikyuu time skip #hinata shoyo #brazil hinata

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srapsodia · 7 months ago

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I'm here now

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanart #kagehina #hinata shoyo #kageyama tobio #haikyuu time skip #my art #mom said it was MY turn to draw a reunion hug!!#'raps that net is way too low' LISTEN. sometimes sacrifices must be made for the sake of composition.

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f0ofishies · 6 months ago

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FL*SHING THEM AFTER AN ARGUEMENT

tsukishima kei, ushijima wakatoshi, oikawa tōru

Tsukishima Kei, your beloved fiance. You loved the man to death, you swear.. it's just that he's always been like this. All of the damn time. There was one time when you argued over dinner because someone didn't want to eat Italian. Seriously? How'd you even date this guy and later on accept a ring from him.

Just kidding, he has his cute moments. The man had prioritized you a lot during his college days. He must've fallen hard for you, huh? When he did get on one knee, you thought it was a prank. Nonetheless, you said yes— already being engaged for 4 months, too!

Back on topic, he's always been a cranky mother fucker and even more when he lose that volleyball match. You looked at him— in astonishment. This man had the audacity to even be too confident in a little fun of chess?

You couldn't even believe the audacity of him. He'd been laughing at your move on your black horse.. "Gee, just get one with it, babe..!" Another ridiculing sentence from him could've sparked a fire inside you. "Hah? Seriously, why'd you even do this rematch— when you clearly don't know chess."

Your eye must've twitched at that, you love him, and you swear to that on your life. But, seriously, he's getting on your last nerve. As he quickly moved his queen, grabbing your knight in the process. You moved another piece as he smiled. "Thank god, we don't do rematches in volleyball."

Your joke immediately made his smirk turn sour. As you chuckled to your own statement, your eyes glanced up to his. He immediately gave a disgusted face at you. "What, Tsuki?—" You tease, almost pinching his face as he has moved away from your hand.

"What is your problem..?" Now that made you raise an eyebrow. "My problem—?" He can't be serious right now. And that's how he ended up giving you the silent treatment, ending the chess match when it just started. You were utterly confused... even bewildered by his actions

Knowing your fiance won't crumble to a piece of you, you just quickly called out. "Kei?" He didn't even look at you.. oh, so that's how he was going to play. "Tsuki?" No budge, huh? The man had some nerves for ignoring his future wife. "Tsukishima Kei." Last call, he finally whipped his head to you.

Rolling your shirt up— his golden brown eyes dilated at the sight of your perky, wait, wait, this was cheating. "That's right, doofus.. I know you can't ignore them." You could totally hear the clogs in his brain working. Even bouncing them a bit— He quickly pulled your shirt down. "Hey—! what was that for??"

"You're in one hell of a ride, do that shit again. I dare you, baby."

How much aura did you gain after marrying the Ushijima Wakatoshi? You, the lovely wife, as ever.. had always been the cheeky one in the marriage. During one of his games, you'd literally chant his name out so loud. Maybe the whole stadium could hear you.

He'd be there happily, holding the ring chained around his neck. Giving you a small smile— You couldn't help but beam as you show off your ring finger too! Now that was months ago, your husband came home in a sour face after meeting his parents.

"Baby, how were your parents?" You asked him, quickly smiling as you cooked your signature curry. "Fine like usual." His deep voice caught you off guard as you felt a hand crept behind you. "Oh, so what did they—" "Can we not." You tilted your head.. "Sure.. okay." You compiled because who were you to say anything about that?

You looked at him as he ate, he felt your stare. "Yes, love?" The way your hand had been tapping on to counter.. like crazy. Lost in thought, you look up at him. "Toshi.. you know you can tell me anything?" Of course he knew that so he raised an eyebrow. "I know."

You were itching to know why he's so persistent on not telling you why.. he would usually just tell you at this point. But he seriously didn't want to talk about it, so he dismissed your concerns once again. "But babe.." You whined.. something in him just snapped.

"No, can you stop trying?" You huffed at his tone of language.. it was kind of your fault for being this nosy. So now here you were having a full blow argument. Were you petty? Definitely, a hundred percent. So when your husband had genuinely left you in the kitchen. You huffed—

Clearly, he needed a lot of space, huh? Shutting the bedroom door very tight— you wanted to go sleep there, but how? He had locked it from the inside. "Toshi..?" You called out. No answer. "Ushijima Wakatoshi!" You yelled out and finally the familiar 'click!' You finally let out a sigh and practically go in fast.

He's still on the bed, clearly trying to sleep. "Toshi..~" Your sweet velvety voice intoxicating him then sliding onto the bed— even straddling onto him. Still, the man laid bare, not even checking you out. You intentionally grind, trying to find the best friction. His hands finally with all of its glory wrapped around your hips.

"Look up." Your command might've sent a shudder on your poor husband. The blood pumping down to his familiar friend down there— oh how a vixen you were.. Seriously, he saw the way you held your shirt up. Those breasts out in the air just for him. "Mmm? Want it bad?"

"I swear, wife— you're always all talk and no action.."

That Argentinan volleyball player was taken by you! Who knew he had the hots for you. Tōru Oikawa, he had recently left Japan for Argentina.. then he met you. Somehow, you two clicked. Clearly, you only thought he was just getting into your pants but nope!

The infamous girlfriend of the volleyball player never really visited his games. Probably because your work always consumed your time. Tōru was beyond okay with that— of course he was. But after such a long tiring game, all he wanted to do was a date night with you. Sadly, you were still out at work.. in overtime. How could you not remember it at all? When you came home, his first response was immediate silence. Seriously nothing!!

"Tōru?" You called out in the shared apartment, finally slipping off your shoes. Stretching your arms wide as no response. "...Babe?" You called out once more. Absolutely nothing— you panicked, of course. Already running around to find him.That's when you spotted your sulky boyfriend, buried deep into the bed among all the plushies you have.

"Shit, babe.. did something happen at practice?" You asked him as he finally noticed your presence. An immediate huffed was heard, thanks to him. "Babe..? Baby..!!" You whined the petname, trying to uncover the blankets.

There he was, your lovely boyfriend. Tōru glared at you, those dark brown hues of his. "What's made you so sour..?" You asked him once more, trying to coerce him out of his moodiness. "I wonder why." He interrupted you, that made you raise an eyebrow. "Babe..."

You were utterly clueless, even when he avoided your touches. It suddenly clicked to you, a promise to him on for a date. You internally groan at that, "Shit, Tōru you know I didn't mean to forget.." Your hand itching to grasp his— yet he pulled away once again. "You always forget about me.." He whined into your shared pillows. "No I don't.. baby.. I'll make it up to you!!" You try to reason with him.

That's what got him to lash out at you. You did kind of deserve it— so here you are on the bed trying to get a sulky Tōru out of your shared bedroom once more. An idea popped into your head! "Tōru.. I have something to show you.." You found the man finally walk out of the bedroom. His disheveled appearance still looked way too good for your own eyes.

Your fingers found their way to your blouse— giving him a sweet smile. Only halfway through, you were damn thankful for picking a good bra for today. "Baby, I'm really sorry.." You whispered. And finally— your breasts were in full view of his sight. Nothing could have prepared you for the feral Tōru ravishing you!

The man was full on groping your breasts, even fiddling with those buds.. was he really that turned on? You couldn't believe you've let him play with you like this. On the tips of your heels— you needed more friction down there, too. So you whined at him, how your cunt needed his fingers too! And that's what he did, dipped them into your soaked panties.

"Fffuck— that's not fair, babe.. yknow your boobs and pussy are my weakness..!"

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axel-tiredstudent · 8 months ago

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Osamu Miya (23) owner of Onigiri Miya, your hand in marriage PLEASE

this tweet was the inspo btw:

#me: im artblocked :(#also me: suddenly sees a random tweet and does this drawing in like 30 minutes #im going insane #anyways #my art #fanart #haikyuu #miya osamu #inarizaki #onigiri miya #haikyuu time skip #redraw #anatomy #art #digital art #digital illustration #mlm #los onigiris están buenos pero el cocinero aún más #a shame if you dont know spanish sorry guys

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queer-obsession · 4 months ago

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You watch him finishing washing the dishes while you sit at the counter. It's quiet, but not like the uncomfortable quiet of a few hours ago after you two fought. You had had dinner and talked it over, smoothing things out. Typically, your communication is pretty good so your fights rarely last more than a few hours. "You don't yell," You say out loud before you can stop yourself. That was supposed to be an inner thought, but oh well.

He pauses for a moment before going back to drying off the dishes. "There's no reason to. It's unnecessary," He responds like it's the most simple thing in the world. "It's not like you yell either," He adds as he opens the cabinet to put the dishes away.

You blink for a moment as you watch his back. "I've yelled at you before," You reply, though ashamed to admit it.

He shakes his head and sighs. "Not since we first started dating and I learned quickly you only yell when you feel cornered or challenged," He tells you as the plates slide into their proper spot. "If I don't escalate then you don't either." He speaks as if analyzing you is the simplest thing he's ever done.

You don't know how to respond to that or the fact that he knows you so well. So, you simply sit there, at the island, as he puts away the last of the dishes before he closes the cabinet and turns to you. "It's kinda weird though," You say before you can stop yourself. "That you rarely raise your voice."

He simply raises an eyebrow as he sets the dish towel on the counter. "It's not weird. What's weird is when you scream at your partner thinking it will solve anything," He replies calmly as he walks over to the island and sets his elbows on it. "It's loud, counterproductive, unnecessary, and just prolongs everything. I have no need to do it." The way he says it makes it seem like common sense and it is, but sometimes it's hard to remember that.

You trace your finger across the island before reaching for his hand across from you. "I don't either," You whisper as you lace your fingers. He nods and squeezes your hand in response and just like that, everything feels so easy and so right.

-----

AIZAWA, Todoroki, Kirishima, IZUKU, Shinsou (mha), AKAASHI, Kenma, KITA, Ushijima, IWAIZUMI (hq), NANAMI (jjk), Erwin, Armin (aot), GIYUU, OBANAI, GYOMEI, RENGOKU (kny), Chris (daiya), and your favorites <3

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clawsdevour · 4 months ago

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how long?

wc: 0.4k content warning: post-timeskip, smut, kuroo x reader, not proofread

♡⠀𓈒 ◌⠀⠀ㅤ۫ㅤ

"ha.." kuroo's hot breath tickles down your neck, sending you chills down your spine the moment his cold fingertips teased your dripping folds that ached for his simmering touch.

"how long has it been since we've been like this?" snarky eyes hiding sinful desires peering up into your glazed stare, followed by a smirk curling onto his lips.

those fingers made their way into your searing cunt that've been waiting for far too long. kuroo's job kept you two apart until season was over as you craved for him.

his delicate slender digits scissored inside you, creating impeccable moans that kissed his ears as he started to form a tent in his stiff work pants.

crying out in pleasurable and joy, kuroo's hot lips land multiple gentle kisses on your warm flushed skin whilst bearing the hardness to tend to your needs.

reaching deeper into your nether regions with each push and shove the satisfaction of his fingers gave you felt that pent up tension that oh so wanted to be released at any given moment.

your legs squirmed in stimulation, almost pushing him away as you took in all the sensations that made your whole body quiver with his strokes.

"tell me when you want it.. or beg," kuroo whispered, letting out a seductive snicker resonating at the crest of your ear.

whimpering out in pants of breathlessness, attempting to murmur out words that he wanted to hear you begged.

granting your wish, he immediately took out his fingers that're coated with your shining juices while he's hastily working off his belt. wasting no more time, he couldn't wait anymore.

unzipping his pants and letting his length out for your viewing pleasure, he stroked as the stiffness was irresistible, especially with the sight of your legs wide open to welcome him back home.

cat-like eyes darted to make contact with yours, nodding at him to put it in he obeyed.

sliding his thick cock on your slit to cover himself with your essence, the sensitive feeling washing over you before he lined himself at your entrance.

sharp eyes focused on watching his tip slide into your tight core fixed his whole day.

kuroo's low groan came out of his mouth the moment his whole cock's situated inside your heat-emitting cunt that wouldn't let him go.

"i missed you," kuroo heaves out of breath.

masterlist here

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mushroomsneedystuff · 2 days ago

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Masterlist

(NSFW Content ahead, 18+ ONLY)

Haikyuu:

CEO!Kenma x Secretary!Reader (smut)

Pro!Bokuto x Interviewer!Reader (smut)

Streamer!Kenma x BeautyInfluencer!Reader (smut)

MHA:

Hawks when you play with his wings (smut)

Timeskip!Teacher!Izuku & Healer!Reader (smut)

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hitoshi-yuuto · 8 months ago

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Msby 4 in the national team

Atsumu approaching Sakusa on the bench : I think we should get a divorce.

Sakusa : What are you doing?

Atsumu : Just practicing!

Sakusa : Why are you already planning our hypothetical divorce?

Atsumu : I don't know. i'm getting old, i think i'm having a mid-life crisis.

Sakusa : We're not even married yet?

Atsumu : Hypothetically divorce me!

Sakusa : Okay, then i'm hypothetically taking half of your assets.

Atsumu : Well, you didn't sign the hypothetical prenup!

Atsumu, to hinata : It's called a prenup, right?

Hinata : Yeah, it's a prenup, and you DID hypothetically sign one...

Sakusa : Who the fuck is this guy??

Hinata : I'm his hypothetical lawyer in this divorce case.

Sakusa : Well, then, i'm taking the hypothetical kids.

Sakusa, to Bokuto : Right? we can get those, right?

Bokuto : Yes, we can definitely get the hypothetical kids, don't worry about it!

Atsumu : Who the fuck is this hypothetical fucking idiot?

Bokuto : Wow, that is a lot of- hypothetical insults!

Sakusa : This is MY hypothetical lawyer, and we have been hypothetically sleeping with each other. ;)

Atsumu : How could you hypothetically DO THIS TO ME ?!

Sakusa getting up : Because you hypothetically ARE AN ALCOHOLIC!

Msby four : *Yelling at each other in the distance*

The rest of the team :

Iwaizumi : ... Please tell me that they are not always like this-

Kageyama : They are.

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noorpersona · 17 days ago

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Favourite Positions: Suna

Suna Rintaro was patient. Too patient.

He liked to take his time, to watch, learn, memorize—every reaction, every sharp inhale, every way your body responded to his touch. He was never in a rush. Never let his ego get ahead of him. But this?

This was new.

You were pinned beneath him, legs hooked around his waist, your body shaking as he pushed into you—deep, slow, relentless. His hands were firm against your thighs, keeping you open, keeping you exactly where he wanted. The feeling of your warmth wrapped so tight around him sent a slow, burning pleasure through his spine, but what really had him losing his mind was you.

The way your breath stuttered every time he rolled his hips. The way your nails scraped at his arms, your legs twitching as he stretched you out. The way you gasped his name like it was the only word you knew.

And then it happened.

The moment he angled his hips just right, just deep enough to press against that sweet spot—

Your breath hitched—

Your entire body tensed—

And then, you came.

Fast. Hard. Too hard.

Suna felt it, the way your walls squeezed him tight, the way your legs locked up, a choked cry breaking past your lips. The way your hands clawed at his back, searching for anything to hold onto as you shattered underneath him.

He stilled—just for a second—his sharp eyes flicking up to watch you completely fall apart beneath him.

Oh.

Oh, yeah. This was it.

A slow, wicked smirk stretched across his lips. He liked that.

"Didn’t even last a minute," he murmured, voice low, teasing, smug.

You barely registered his words, your body limp, your mind foggy with the aftershocks. But Suna wasn’t done.

He let you catch your breath for a second, his hands rubbing slow, lazy circles over your thighs. But then—

He pressed his weight into you, rolling his hips again—deeper, slower this time, dragging out the pleasure until you gasped, your body twitching from oversensitivity. And he felt it. The way you clenched involuntarily, still on edge, still sensitive.

"Oh?" His grip on your thighs tightened, his smirk deepening as his voice dipped into something darker, lower. “Still sensitive?”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as you whimpered, your nails digging into his arms. He was going to have fun with this.

One of his hands left your thigh, sliding up the length of your body—slow, teasing, purposeful—before wrapping around your throat, his thumb brushing over your pulse. His mouth hovered just above yours, his breath warm, teasing, his words coated in amusement.

"That was too fast, baby," he murmured, tilting his head slightly, watching your dazed expression with something like satisfaction. "Guess that means this is my new favorite."

His thumb pressed against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His dark, lidded gaze roamed over your features, soaking in the flush on your cheeks, the parted lips, the way your chest heaved. You were wrecked. And that made something primal twist in his stomach. He wanted to see it again.

So he moved.

Slow. Deep. Unrelenting.

The pace was different this time—no teasing, no holding back. He wanted to feel you come apart again. Wanted to feel your walls flutter around him, to watch you drown in the sensation. He wanted to chase that reaction again and again until it was burned into him.

"Too much?" he mused, his voice dripping with false innocence as his thrusts got sharper, pushing you right back toward that edge.

Your response was lost between a gasp and a moan, and Suna grinned.

"Nah, I think you can take it," he murmured. "You were made for this, weren't you?"

You barely had time to process his words before he angled his hips just right again— and that coil in your stomach snapped.

Your head tilted back, a cry tearing from your lips as pleasure flooded through you, crashing over you even harder than the first time.

Suna groaned, feeling your body clamp down around him, squeezing him so tight that his rhythm stuttered for half a second. His grip on your throat loosened, his hand sliding down to grasp at your waist instead, holding you steady as you shook beneath him.

"Fuck," he muttered, watching the way your body trembled, the way your fingers scrambled at the sheets. He let his hips slow, dragging out your high, letting you feel every second of it.

And when you finally collapsed, boneless and wrecked beyond belief, Suna pressed a kiss to your jaw, his smirk returning as he murmured—

"Yeah... definitely my favourite."

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faaaano · 3 months ago

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Osamu miya (23) Owner of Onigiri Miya the man you are...

#miya osamu #artists on tumblr #digital art #digital painting #drawing #my art #osamu miya #art #artwork #fanart #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!!#osamu fanart #osamu haikyuu #haikyuu osamu #haikyuu time skip #hq timeskip

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foreveia · 2 months ago

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take two ⤨ iwaizumi hajime

⨭ genre; fluff, idiots to lovers but like they're actually so dumb

⨭ pairing; iwaizumi x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 5.7k

⨭ descriptions; your boss has been trying to set you up with her son for months, but as it turns out at the holiday party... you've already met him before.

⨭ warnings; explicit language and dialogue, no graphic content tho, alcohol

⨭ a/n; fun little short fic to fill the fix to publish something lolol enjoy this iwa love dump as i work on my next long fic (tell me in the comments if y'all like these better)

song i listened to writing this: 'hold your breath' by chase atlantic

one.

There are exactly three things you know to be true about Iwaizumi Emi:

She is the best divorce attorney in Tohoku, possibly the country.

She is the kind of woman who could negotiate her way out of murder charges and secure the victim’s house in the settlement.

She is, without a doubt, trying to set you up with her son.

You respect her. You admire her. You are, on occasion, lowkey terrified of her.

Which is why you’re currently sitting at your desk, nodding at all the appropriate intervals while she breezes through yet another pitch about why her son and you are, in her professional opinion, a perfect match.

“He’s back from Irvine for the summer,” she says, skimming a property settlement document like it personally offended her. She tosses it onto your pile nonchalantly, and you let out a short sigh because it’s just more backend filing to do and, despite your adoration for your career path and real passion towards legal work, entry jobs in the firm are mostly busy work. “I really think you’ll like him. He’s—”

You tune out. Not in an obvious way, of course—no, you’re a professional. You sprinkle in the occasional mmhmm and sounds great so she doesn’t catch on, but this isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve heard this pitch before—multiple times. Hajime is intelligent, responsible, not an idiot like some of these men out here, blah blah blah.

It’s not that you have anything against him, really. It’s just that you’ve spent months perfecting the art of dodging your boss’s matchmaking attempts, and frankly, you don’t have the energy to entertain her latest scheme.

“You’re finally going to meet him at the firm’s ball this weekend,” Emi continues, finally looking up from her paperwork, her smile entirely too satisfied.

You blink. “Oh.”

“He’s excited to meet you too.”

Now that is new. Usually, these monologues are strictly one-sided—I told him about you! and You two will get along so well! But he’s excited to meet you too? That’s an escalation. That’s a game-changer. That means he knows about you. He has an opinion about you.

You resist the urge to groan. Instead, you summon a polite, professional smile—the same one you use when dealing with particularly insufferable clients. “Looking forward to it,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the woman who could single-handedly end your career if she wanted to?

In reality, the only thing you’re looking forward to about the ball is the open bar. Being in your early twenties means being woefully broke, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of unlimited free alcohol wasn’t a strong motivator.

So, you strike a deal with yourself: you’ll put on a fancy dress, endure painful heels, and let Emi parade you in front of her son like a prize show poodle—all in exchange for an endless supply of pinot noir, cocktail shrimp, and, if you play your cards right, an entire bottle of champagne to sneak home in your purse.

It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make.

two.

Because you’re an adult with an absolutely thriving social life (read: you have two friends who are willing to tolerate your bullshit after 6 PM), you, Yachi, and Kiyoko are now seated at your favorite little izakaya, wedged into a corner booth with plates of karaage and a pitcher of beer between you.

Kiyoko is talking about wedding venues. Because she’s engaged. To Tanaka. Which is objectively insane because in your head, they’re still in that “grossly obsessed with each other but pretending they’re just friends” phase, even though they’ve been together for years. The whole thing is a crime against single people everywhere, but you are supportive because your already jaw-dropping friend is somehow glowing even brighter now that she has a fat rock on her ring finger. She looks lighter, happier. She deserves it.

Yachi, meanwhile, is explaining—between delicate sips of her beer—that she’s too swamped with work to even think about dating. Which, yeah. Fair. The woman works harder than most people you know, so you respect it.

Then, as the conversation naturally shifts to your love life (as it always does, because you’re the group’s designated mess), you sigh, sinking into your seat dramatically.

“I haven’t had sex in months.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kiyoko and Yachi both roll their eyes in unison, like they rehearsed it.

“Oh my God,” Yachi mutters.

“You cannot still be caught up on GDD,” Kiyoko says flatly, pouring herself another drink.

“Okay, first of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “it is not about him. It’s just a general fact about my current state of being.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiyoko hums, entirely unconvinced.

“Second of all,” you continue, undeterred, “GDD was life-changing, and I feel like I should be allowed to mourn the lack of that level of—of excellence in my life.”

“Life-changing,” Yachi repeats, deadpan. “You hooked up with him once.”

“Yeah, and my life was changed.”

GDD—Good Dick Dude, as he has been dubbed by your dear, unsupportive friends—was a guy you hooked up with in January after a truly legendary New Year’s Eve party.

The night itself had been pure chaos. Hinata had somehow scored an invite to this insane rooftop party—one of those bougie, exclusive, if-you-know-you-know events where you absolutely do not belong but somehow manage to fake it enough to get through the door. He’d gotten a few plus-ones, which is how you ended up there, sipping champagne you definitely couldn’t afford and making out with a guy who, to this day, remains one of the most mind-blowing hookups of your entire life.

Gorgeous, buff, and dangerous with his hands. The kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing, which, honestly? A rarity these days. You barely remember his name—something short, easy to moan—but you do remember his stupidly perfect smirk and the way he all but ruined you against the nearest flat surface.

But then the party ended, the night faded into a haze, and you never saw him again.

Which is fine. It’s fine. Really.

You’re definitely not still thinking about it.

Kiyoko takes a sip of her beer, unimpressed. “You’ve been on, what? Five Hinge dates since then? Six?”

“Seven,” Yachi corrects.

You point at her. “Exactly.”

Kiyoko gives you a long, slow blink.

“I mean that as proof that I am not hung up on him!” you clarify. “I’ve been trying, okay? But the bar is in hell. Do you know how many ‘we should get drinks’ texts I get from guys who put crypto investor in their bios?”

Kiyoko sighs. “Okay, but let’s be real—are you actually giving any of these guys a chance?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Frown. “I mean… like… conceptually?”

“Right.”

Yachi, forever gentle but devastatingly perceptive, tilts her head at you. “Is it possible,” she says carefully, “that maybe none of these guys are measuring up because you’re subconsciously comparing them to him?”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

Is it ridiculous?

Because, okay, maybe—just maybe—no one has quite lived up to that night. And maybe you’re being a little unfair to the dating pool by expecting every single guy to have that same kind of chemistry with you. And maybe you do occasionally find yourself staring at random ceilings, wondering where GDD is now and if he even remembers you.

But still. That doesn’t mean anything.

You’re pretty sure.

“I hate you guys,” you grumble, stabbing aggressively at a piece of karaage.

Yachi pats your hand sympathetically. “We know.”

Kiyoko, ever the queen of smooth topic transitions, nudges the conversation in a new direction. “Speaking of your questionable taste in men, your boss is still trying to set you up with her son, correct?”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the booth. “Unfortunately, yes. And now, apparently, he’s excited to meet me.”

Yachi perks up. “Wait, so you are meeting him?”

“At the firm’s ball this weekend,” you say, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get a little wine drunk, take advantage of the seafood bar.”

Kiyoko raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re not going to entertain the idea of this Hajime guy at all?”

You scoff. “Absolutely not.”

Yachi hums, tilting her head in that way she does when she’s about to say something devastatingly reasonable. “I mean… what if Emi’s right?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if this is it?” she says, half-teasing, half-genuinely curious. “Like, what if you meet him and he’s actually your soulmate? Imagine if this whole time, your boss has been playing the long game, orchestrating your love story like some kind of corporate fairy godmother.”

You snort. Loudly. “Right. Because that’s totally my luck.”

Kiyoko and Yachi exchange a knowing look, but they let it go.

You take another sip of your beer, shaking your head. Hajime Iwaizumi—whoever he is—is not the love of your life.

That would be insane.

three.

You had to pull out your graduate school formal gown from the back of your closet for this, but wow, you really forgot just how good you look in red.

Your day-to-day work attire consists of pantsuits and button-ups, neatly tucked into cautiously ironed trousers, so you’ve honestly forgotten how nice it is to get dressed up once in a while. There’s something about slipping into a gown that fits like a dream, sweeping your hair up just right, and swiping on that perfect shade of lipstick that makes you feel invincible. Like you could negotiate a million-dollar deal, steal the firm’s best clients, and seduce someone’s husband all in the same breath.

Not that you would, obviously.

Probably.

The venue is ridiculous in the way all law firm events are ridiculous—held in a ballroom large enough to house a small country, chandeliers dripping in gold, servers weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne and fancy bruschetta topped with fucking caviar of all things. All this just to celebrate another year of making money off people’s divorces. Incredible the way capitalism works.

You’ve barely made it through your first glass of wine before Emi finds you.

“There she is,” she croons, linking her arm through yours. She looks positively radiant in an emerald gown, diamonds at her ears, and the kind of effortless elegance that comes from winning. You’d respect it more if she weren’t actively dragging you toward your inevitable doom. “Come on, sweetheart. Hajime’s here, and I cannot wait for you two to finally meet.”

You bite back a sigh, because of course. No warm-up period, no buffer—just straight to the matchmaking. “Can’t I get a few more drinks in me first?”

She waves a hand, utterly dismissing your complaints. “You’ll like him. I know you will.”

You doubt it. But you let her lead you anyway, mostly because you know resisting is pointless: your boss has the world’s most spell-blinding smile and enough charm to always get her way. Emi always wins.

She stops near the bar, where a man stands with his back to you, broad shoulders wrapped in a sharp black suit, one hand resting on the counter as he talks with someone just out of view.

Emi squeezes your hand. “Hajime,” she calls, her voice warm.

The man turns.

And every thought in your head immediately ceases to exist.

Because standing before you, looking unfairly good in a tailored suit and sipping from a glass of whiskey like he isn’t single-handedly ruining your life, is GDD.

Good Dick Dude.

Hajime Iwaizumi is Good Dick Dude.

Your brain short-circuits. This is not happening. This is some kind of fever dream, a cruel trick played by the universe to punish you for your sins.

Hajime’s sharp green eyes land on you, recognition flickering behind them, and then—oh no.

He smirks. Like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind right now. Like he remembers everything.

Emi, completely unaware of your crisis, beams. “Hajime, this is the associate I’ve been telling you about.”

His mischievous, more than just amused smile widens. “Oh, I know who she is.”

Your soul leaves your body.

Because that voice? That voice is the same one that had whispered filth against your neck four months ago. The same voice that had laughed when you moaned his name. The same voice that had ruined you in ways you still haven’t fully recovered from.

You are going to die. Right here, right now, in the middle of this godforsaken gala.

“Hajime Iwaizumi,” he says smoothly, offering a hand. His palm is rough when you take it—calloused, strong, a stark reminder of exactly where those hands have been. His grip is firm, steady, and entirely too knowing.

You swallow, pasting on the best Oh wow, I am totally not spiraling internally smile you can manage. “Yeah,” you say weakly. “We’ve met.”

“Oh!” Emi beams, clasping her hands together like she’s just delighted by this new revelation. “That’s wonderful! I knew you two would get along.”

You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a strangled choke. Hajime is still watching you, head tilted slightly, like he’s enjoying this: like he can see the exact moment you realize how deeply, horrifically screwed you are. Because there is no way Emi knows. She’s too composed, too pleased. If she had any inkling that her son and her associate had met four months ago in a completely inappropriate context, she’d have you both buried in litigation faster than you could say conflict of interest.

Which means Hajime is choosing to be a menace.

God, you’re going to kill him.

“Hajime just got back from Irvine a few days ago, for the start of his summer break,” Emi continues, completely oblivious to the absolute war waging behind your polite smile. “I’ve been telling him all about you, of course.”

You almost choke on your drink. “You have?”

“Of course I have!” Emi nods enthusiastically. “She’s one of the brightest associates we have, Hajime. Sharp, diligent, absolutely ruthless in negotiations—she reminds me of myself when I was her age.”

Your lips twitch. You do enjoy being compared to the most terrifying woman you’ve ever met, so it’s really too bad that this entire situation has you currently dying inside.

Hajime hums, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah,” he says, voice dipping just slightly. “She’s definitely memorable.”

Your entire body lights on fire.

Memorable.

Oh, he’s being insufferable on purpose.

Emi sighs happily, taking a sip of her champagne. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your drink in Hajime’s face. You want to rewind time and never step foot into that rooftop party.

Instead, you just smile tightly. “Mm-hmm.”

Hajime grins at your suffering. “So,” he says, tilting his glass in your direction, “how have you been?”

You resist the urge to kick him in the shins. “Busy,” you say, voice clipped. “Working.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, that does sound like you.”

You stiffen. Hajime, you realize, is having the time of his life watching you squirm. And it’s only going to get worse.

Because Emi suddenly claps her hands together, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh! I should leave you two to chat,” she says. “Get to know each other properly.”

Oh. Oh no. Emi. Emi, please.

But before you can protest, she winks at you—winks, like she’s a fairy godmother orchestrating the perfect romance—and disappears back into the crowd.

And just like that, you are alone with him.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes gleaming with amusement. “So,” he says, smirking, “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”

Your jaw clenches. “You smug little—”

“You look good,” he interrupts smoothly, scanning you from head to toe. His gaze lingers, appreciative but blatantly teasing. “Red suits you.”

God, you want to strangle him. You cross your arms, willing yourself to stay calm. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

He chuckles. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

He tilts his head, as if contemplating. “Well,” he says, “it wasn’t confirmed until I saw you.”

You glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that reaction?” He grins. “Not a chance.”

You hate him. You hate that he looks so effortlessly good in a suit. You hate that his voice is still just as devastating as you remember. You hate that even now, months later, you can still feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, the rough scrape of his callouses against your skin, the way he had murmured just like that, baby against your ear—

You inhale sharply. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not thinking about that right now.

Hajime, unfortunately, definitely knows what you’re thinking about. His smirk is downright criminal. “So,” he says, leaning in slightly, voice low, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Oh, shut up.”

He laughs, warm and amused, and you are horribly aware that this night is only just beginning.

four.

Hajime happens to actually be a pretty intelligent and funny person, which is making it much, much harder to dodge his attempts at flirting and his mother’s attempts at forced-proximity matchmaking.

It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to sip your wine, endure some polite small talk, and then fade into the crowd before Emi could corner you into any serious you’d make such a beautiful couple talk. But instead, you’re somehow still here, talking to him, because Hajime Iwaizumi is annoyingly easy to talk to.

Which is not fair. It’s not fair at all, actually.

He makes it look effortless, like this isn’t completely unhinged, like it’s not absolutely deranged that your boss has spent months trying to set you up with a man who has already—

You take a sip of your wine. You are not going to finish that thought.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, looking entirely too entertained by this whole situation. “You seem tense.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue. “Hey, could be worse,” he says. “At least my mom has good taste.”

You choke on your sip, feeling the bubbles tingle in your nose and really regretting every life decision you’ve made in the last six months. “Oh, my God.”

He laughs, tilting his glass in a mock toast.

You squint at him, wary and slightly annoyed, unable to fathom how he’s not also dying at this situation. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, all easy amusement. “I’m just saying—this could be a lot worse. Imagine if she was trying to set you up with someone actually terrible.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, swirling your wine. “You’re already pretty high on my list of worst-case scenarios.”

“See, now that hurts.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll live.”

Before Hajime can respond—before you can regain any sense of control over this conversation—Emi appears out of nowhere, her eyes shining.

“There you two are!” she says, absolutely beaming. “It’s time for the first dance!”

You freeze.

Hajime—the absolute traitor—just raises an eyebrow. “First dance?”

“Yes! It’s tradition,” Emi says, already ushering you toward the ballroom floor. “Senior partners and their dates open the dance floor—it’s been that way for years.”

You dig your heels into the floor. “But I’m not—”

“Now, sweetheart,” Emi interrupts, entirely ignoring your panic, “you wouldn’t want to break tradition, would you?”

You stare at her, betrayed.

She smiles.

Oh, she planned this.

Hajime, standing beside you, lets out a quiet, amused sigh before draining the last of his whiskey. “Well,” he says, offering you a hand, “guess we should give the people what they want.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “That’s why you’re still holding my hand.”

You drop it immediately.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from leading you on to the dance floor. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you gently to the center of the ballroom; you’re struggling to ignore the far too many pairs of eyes on you two as he rearranges your arms around his neck.

And—oh, hell.

You forgot how solid he is.

His grip is firm but steady, his palm warm where it rests against your back. He moves easily, like this isn’t completely ridiculous, like your brain isn’t currently melting out of your ears.

“Relax,” Hajime murmurs.

You scowl. “I am relaxed.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah, totally.”

You hate him. You hate the way he’s looking at you—amused, interested, entirely too smug for someone who has already ruined your life once.

He leads you into a slow, easy step, and goddamn it, of course he’s good at this, too. His movements are effortless, confident. He keeps the rhythm perfectly, and you hate that you match him so well.

He tilts his head, watching you. “You’re thinking really hard about something.”

“No, I’m not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Right. So you’re definitely not thinking about how good I am at this.”

You promptly step on his foot. He laughs, and it ignites your hatefire even more.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“I was going to say you look good tonight,” he muses, unfazed. “But now I don’t know if you deserve the compliment.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Hajime smirks. “Touchy.”

He spins you as the music hits a crescendo, dropping you abruptly into a dip that catches you heavily off-guard. It makes you lock your fingers tighter around his neck, and when he lifts you back up, you nearly slam right into his very, very firm chest (what the hell, is this man made entirely of protein?), face first.

“What the fuck?” you huff, a little winded. “You are actually a horrible human being.”

Hajime hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something too smug, too entertained. “You keep saying that,” he muses, voice low enough that it barely carries past the space between you, “but I think you just like having someone to complain about.”

Before you can deliver a scathing reply, he tugs you a fraction closer. It’s subtle, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but you feel it—the shift of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, the way your body slots against his just enough for warmth to pass between you.

Your breath catches, and it’s infuriating how he notices. How his hold tightens, like he can read every single thought running through your head and is thrilled by it.

“You’re such a dick,” you frown, shifting slightly, trying to put some space between you.

Hajime chuckles, and the sound is entirely too satisfied. His mouth is right by your ear, so you practically feel it more than you really hear it, when he murmurs, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because that—that—is not fair.

That is the kind of thing a man should not be allowed to say in that voice, in that low, teasing rumble, into your ear, while holding you against him like this.

It happens before you can even think about it.

Before you can register that you are, in fact, in the middle of a ballroom at your company’s annual gala. Before you can process the reality that Emi is somewhere in this crowd, and she has already been insufferable about this whole ordeal.

Before any of that can hit you, you grab the lapels of his stupidly well-fitted suit, tilt your chin up, and kiss him.

It’s instant, sharp, devastating. Your hands tighten against his chest as you crash into him, and Hajime—because he is the worst person alive—immediately reacts.

One hand presses firm into your back, the other finding its way to your jaw, fingers curling just slightly as he deepens the kiss without hesitation. His lips are warm, just the right mix of soft and steady, and when he angles his head just so—his nose brushing against yours, his thumb skimming your cheek—you feel yourself sink, like he’s pulling you under and you don’t even mind drowning.

It should not be this good.

It should not set your pulse racing like this, make you forget for a single, damning second that this is the worst possible thing you could be doing right now.

But it does. And for just a moment, nothing else exists. Not the party. Not the music. Not the fact that literally everyone is watching you right now. Just the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his fingers at your back, the way he exhales sharply like he wasn’t expecting this either, but he’s not about to stop it, not for anything in the world.

And then you remember where you are.

You rip yourself away, blinking rapidly, your brain racing to catch up with what you just did.

And that is the moment you hear it: the loudest, most delighted squeal of your entire existence.

Your stomach plummets.

Because standing at the edge of the ballroom, her hands clasped together in sheer glee, is none other than Emi Iwaizumi herself. And she is positively vibrating with joy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she gushes, and the way she looks at you is the exact way someone would look at their child who just announced they were getting married. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect together!”

Your soul leaves your body. You stare at her, horrified. You slowly turn back to Hajime—who, because he is an absolute menace, is still standing entirely too close, still holding you just slightly like he isn’t ready to let go.

And he is smiling.

The kind of smile that says I win. The kind of smile that says he is absolutely going to remind you of this for the rest of your natural life.

You physically have to stop yourself from shoving him away.

Instead, you inhale, sharp and deep, and will yourself to stay calm. Emi is still talking. She is still gushing. And you cannot deal with whatever she’s about to say next, so before she can so much as breathe, you turn back to Hajime, seize his wrist, and drag him off the dance floor, because if you don’t get away from this immediately, you are actually going to die of secondhand embarrassment and shame.

five.

This is because of your dry spell.

Your dry spell is the reason why your entire sense of self-control and awareness have gone out the window, and the reason why, now that you and Hajime have successfully escaped the ballroom onto the balcony, he is doubled over laughing and you are actually freaking out.

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, pressing your hands to your face. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the absolute catastrophe unfolding inside your brain. “I kissed you. I kissed you in front of everyone.”

Hajime straightens, still grinning like an asshole. “Yeah,” he says, entirely too pleased. “You did.”

You drop your hands, glaring. “Fuck you, dude. You’re not helping.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t aware I needed to.”

You let out an incoherent noise of distress.

Hajime, because he is insufferable, just leans against the balcony railing, watching you unravel like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all night. His tie is slightly loosened now, his jacket unbuttoned, and somehow, he looks even better like this—a little rumpled, a little amused, looking at you like he already knows how this is going to end.

That is actually unacceptable.

“This is your fault,” you snap, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You goaded me into it.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I made you kiss me?”

“Yes,” you declare, with full conviction, even though you definitely grabbed him first. “You set me up.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You really can’t handle taking the L, huh?”

“I can handle it,” you insist. “I just don’t want to.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying very hard not to laugh again. “So you kissed me against your will?”

“Yes.”

Hajime tilts his head, amused. “Interesting. Because you seemed pretty into it.”

Your jaw drops. “I—you—shut up.”

He chuckles, and God, his voice is all warm and low and pleased with himself, and you really need to get it together before you do something stupid again.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms and shifting your focus to the city skyline instead. Sendai stretches out before you in a sea of golden lights, a stark contrast to the absolute nightmare happening in your head.

This is fine. You can recover from this. You just have to never, ever acknowledge it again.

You square your shoulders, turning back to him. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to go back inside, pretend this never happened, and move on with our lives.”

Hajime hums, considering. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

You squint. “What do you mean that’s not gonna work?”

He pushes off the railing, taking a step closer—too close, enough that you feel it again, that ridiculous, stupid warmth that shouldn’t still be there after all this time. “I mean,” he says, slow, deliberate, “you’re acting like that kiss was a mistake.”

You blink. “Because it was.”

He lifts a single eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, but it comes out way too defensive, and Hajime knows it.

He grins. You decide that you hate him.

“I’m sure,” you insist, crossing your arms tighter, like that will somehow make this whole situation less insufferable. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing. A lapse in judgment. That’s it.”

Hajime tilts his head, thoughtful. “Okay. So if I kissed you again right now, you wouldn’t like it.”

Your entire brain short-circuits. The audacity. The unbelievable nerve.

You gape at him. “You wouldn’t.”

His grin widens. “Wouldn’t I?”

You hate how smug he looks. You hate that your stomach flips at the idea of it. You hate that you don’t immediately shut it down.

He watches your expression carefully, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, like he won’t actually do it unless you give him some kind of sign. Which is so much worse, because it means he’s giving you the chance to say no, to walk away, to end this before it can spiral any further.

But you don’t.

And that—more than the kiss itself, more than Emi’s squealing, more than the public spectacle you just made—is what finally sends you into full-blown panic mode.

You do want him to kiss you again.

You stare at him, pulse thrumming, brain caught in a violent tug-of-war between denial and desire. And Hajime? Hajime is watching you with the patience of someone who knows he’s already won.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

You scowl. “Say what?”

“That you want me to kiss you again.”

Your jaw clenches. He’s baiting you, letting you choose, waiting for you to meet him halfway. You exhale sharply, tilting your chin up. “You’re so full of yourself.”

His mouth twitches. “Not an answer.”

“Fine,” you snap. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Hajime grins. “That’s all I needed.”

And then, he does.

This time, it’s slower, deeper, not rushed by the heat of the moment. He takes his time, like he’s savoring it, like he’s memorizing the way you melt into him. And you? You let him. Because, goddamn it, you were never winning this battle.

When you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks down at you. “See? Not a mistake.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

He laughs, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead that feels far more intimate than a casual pair of friends-with-benefits should. You, scandalized, shove him away, but Hajime just grins, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, pressing your fingers to your forehead, like that will somehow stop the ridiculous heat crawling up your neck.

Hajime hums, smug. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You are still standing here. You could have left, could have walked back into that ballroom and pretended this entire thing never happened. But instead, you’re here. On this balcony. With him.

You shift, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So… what now?”

Hajime leans back against the railing. “Dunno. Guess that depends on you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do I feel like you already have an answer?”

“Because I do,” he says plainly, in a way so nonchalant and effortless it could only be said like that by him.

You exhale sharply, tilting your head up to the sky, like the stars might have some kind of solution for this. “You know this is gonna be a thing now, right?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “A thing?”

“Yeah,” you say, making a vague gesture between the two of you. “A thing. Emi’s gonna lose her mind. She’s probably already telling the senior partners that her matchmaking career is a success.”

Hajime laughs, the sound easy, effortless. “Yeah. She probably is.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “I am never going to live this down.”

“Probably not.”

You squint at him. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”

Hajime shrugs, then reaches for your hand, tugging you forward so suddenly that you nearly stumble into him. His hands slide down to your waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress. “I could,” he murmurs, close, too close, “but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”

You scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he says, smug, “you still kissed me. Twice, actually.”

You glare. “Stop counting.”

“No promises.”

You groan, pressing your forehead to his chest in sheer exasperation. “This is my villain origin story.”

Hajime just laughs, wrapping his arms fully around you, and you hate—hate—that it feels nice, that it feels right.

“Hajime,” you say, voice muffled against his suit jacket.

“Yeah?”

You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze. “If we’re doing this, you are legally required to make it up to me with at least two fancy dates. Minimum.”

Hajime smirks, like he was already planning on it. “Deal.”

“And no getting too smug about this, either,” you squint.

He tilts his head. “Define ‘too smug.’”

You groan, shoving at his chest. “God, I hate you.”

Hajime just catches your wrist and grins, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your knuckles. “Sure you do.”

You really don’t. And both of you know that very well, because he has his mother’s spell-blinding smile and you have always been a sucker for them both.

⨭ closing; churned this out over one 3 hour writing sesh bc i got this idea in my head and had to see it through. not proofread and very very hastily written, but i like her anyway. #comment #reblog #lemme know ur thoughts mwah xoxo

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