#haikyuu tendou Satori

[kwadlayns]

talk to me in french, talk to me in spanish 🍒

[tojiphile]

when your teacher assigned him to be your tutor, you’re sure he didn’t expect it to end up like this. it’s 5:46pm on a school night and instead of studying, your panties are bunched around your ankles, your cropped skirt flipped up and your blouse unbuttoned obscenely. your sports bra barely keeps your tits in place as your alleged ‘tutor’ bends you over your desk, fucking you silly.

“well, what’s the answer?” he asks, one hand on your waist and the other rubbing small circles around your swollen clit. “i- ‘s too much!” you cry, trying to squirm out of his grip. he traps you in place firmly, slipping his cock in and out of your cunt slowly, causing you to tremble with desire.

“please…” you beg, hot tears spilling down your face, “i- i can’t do this anymore!” you’ve been in this position for an hour; your clit overstimulated and your pussy desperate for more. he’s brought you so close so many times but never once did he let you cum. “why should i?” he scoffs, “stupid girls don’t deserve nice things.”

“if you answer correctly, i’ll fuck you properly. how’s that sound?” he baits you, hook, line and sinker. he asks the question again and you strain your brain to find the correct answer, trying your best to resist his delicate touch.

inevitably, you never get the answer right. that’s okay though, because at the end of every class, your tutor always says, if you can’t be smart, you could always be his little trophy wife. still, stupid girls don’t deserve to cum, so he focuses himself on relieving his own stress, pounding into you like a dog in heat, bullying your cunt and stuffing it full with his cock.

you still feel good though, because at least you’re useful for something! <3

TSUKISHIMA KEI, GETO SUGURU, nanami kento, tendou satoori, sugawara koishi, TETSURO KUROO, takahiro hanamaki, ryomen sukuna, ooc!saiki kusuo, kamisato ayato, KAEYA ALBERICH

[seijorhi]

All In

the beta fic you have been waiting months for <33 Ushijima Wakatoshi, Semi Eita & Tendou Satori x female reader w.c 6.8k tw: yandere themes, a/b/o, noncon, (sorta) smut, nsfw, one mention of blood and oozing wounds, implied stalking, forced claiming

“They’re good guys – good alphas. This won’t be like last time, I promise. You’ll see what I mean when you meet them,” Ayako murmurs, squeezing your hand in reassurance and offering you a brilliant grin. “They’re gonna love you.”

Love seems a bit of a stretch.

But Aya looks so… hopeful. You sigh. “You really like them, huh?”

“I really like them,” she admits, a pretty pink blush tingeing her cheeks. “You come first, though. You’re my beta, and if it doesn’t feel right, we’ll walk, okay? No questions asked.” 

A promise she’s kept more than once. Too many times. Omegas like Aya, young and vibrant and oh-so-lovely, shouldn’t have any trouble finding a pack to settle down with. Hell, alphas should be banging down the door just for a chance with her – to fuck, to bond, anything and everything in between. You’re the sticking point. The reason why Ayako hasn’t bonded into a pack yet.

Alphas have no interest in betas. They do nothing for them – can’t take a knot, don’t have heats. Betas aren’t durable enough to ride out an alpha’s rut. All that compounded by the simple fact that bonding bites between the two don’t last longer than a few months, so why bother?

You’re dead weight. Aya clings to you anyway. 

She pulls your hand to her cheek, the tender, delicate spot right beneath the curve of her jaw. Scenting, you realise a touch belatedly. Omegas have stronger scents than betas do; florals, spice, indulgent, enticing things – you once knew an omega whose scent reminded you of hot caramel drizzled over apple pie. Ayako smells like lilacs and the rain, a softer scent admittedly, yet one that screams of home and comfort and familiar things. 

Your own scent is milder. Now, on top of sea salt and that faint whisper of summer, you’ll smell a little of her. She’s claiming you as pack, as hers. Her beta, exactly as she’d said

A flutter of warmth blooms in your chest, and you smile back at her, the first genuine one of the night. 

“You look great, by the way,” she tells you. “Come on, Tendou messaged to say they’re running a bit late and we should head on in without them. Ushijima’s practice doesn’t finish up ‘til about seven, so we’ve got plenty of time for the show.” She winks and lets out a bubbling laugh and you kind of feel like you’ve missed the joke.

Nevertheless, you let her tug you into the stadium. The lady behind the ticketing counter slides across two visitor’s passes on lanyards when Ayako gives your names.

“Practices are closed to the public,” the omega explains in a hushed voice while the two of you make your way towards the door for the stands. “Apparently the team get a few passes they can hand out to whoever they like – pack, usually.”

The pass has your name printed on it. Beneath it, in bold; Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

You finger the plastic edges absentmindedly. 

There’s other people in the stands, all wearing the same style lanyard draped around your neck. Some, you think, are partners. Friends and family. Pack, like Ayako said. You spy a woman maybe a few years older than you, bouncing a toddler on her lap and pointing animatedly towards the court, another guy sitting beside her, an arm curled over the back of her seat. Others appear to be there in a more official capacity – staff, you suppose, wearing the same white polo edged in blue and gold (team colours, you guess), talking quietly amongst themselves and jotting things down on expensive looking tablets. 

They pay you no mind. Ayako does the same, dragging you right up to the guard-rail with an excited gasp. You’d been expecting them to be running laps or tossing balls in pairs or something. You weren’t expecting anything like this. 

Without the roar of a crowd, every noise on the court is amplified; the squeaking of shoes, the thwack of palms meeting leather, shouts ricocheting from both sides as they scramble for the ball.

Scramble isn’t the right word, though. It flies through the air between the players, choreographed chaos.

One of the players, a dark haired behemoth, shoots up and connects with the ball, slamming it over the net with a terrifying force – you feel the impact in your chest when it hits the floor.

A whistle rings out.

“Oh my god,” Aya breathes.

The behemoth turns, dark eyes zeroing in on your figure from across the court. His nostrils flare.

Alpha, you realise. He’s one of Aya’s alphas.

Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

“You know he’s one of the top wing spikers in the country, and he’s on the national team? He’s already got like three Olympic medals! Three!” she gushes. “He’s incredible.”

You hardly hear her. The other players on the court, his teammates, are already re-setting, a blond slapping Ushijima on the back, another hurling a teasing jab across the net – earning him a middle finger in response – Ushijima’s gaze doesn’t shift, his attention doesn’t waver. You swear you see his pupils dilate. 

Your breath is caught somewhere in your chest. 

“Are you gonna wave at the alpha you dressed so pretty for?” 

“Would you stop?” you hiss, tearing your gaze away to jab an elbow into Ayako’s side, which she artfully dodges with a delighted giggle. 

“Can’t say I blame you for drooling. I practically melted into a puddle the first time Semi dragged him into the bakery. He’s hot as hell,” she sighs. 

The problem is, she isn't wrong. Weird, heavy, way too intense eye contact aside, Ushijima is the textbook definition of ‘hot alpha’; all tall and broad shouldered, his face hewn with clean, strong lines. Add on the ridiculous athleticism, the muscles that clearly aren’t just for show – yeah, no wonder Aya’s got heart eyes already. 

On the court below, the whistle blows. More cheers. Another point scored. By the time you glance down again, Ushijima’s lost interest, his focus returned to the game, nodding at something one of the (you presume) coaches yells across the court.

The tight, prickling feeling writhing beneath your skin, that doesn’t fade as quick. 

God, you’re way too worked up about this whole thing. 

“He’s very, uh…” 

“Intimidating? No– impressive? Or were you gonna say sexy? All true, by the way. Ushiwaka’s a beast.”

The other two alphas have finally deigned to grace you with their presence. Wonderful. 

Swallowing back a wince, you turn to face the duo. “Good,” you say. “I was going to say he’s very… good.”

Aya had told you the basics, of course; Semi’s the lead singer slash guitarist in a band, Tendou’s a chocolatier. The former used to be a civil servant, the latter recently moved back from a stint in Paris, and both of them played Volleyball with Ushijima in high school. 

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting. Carbon cutouts of their packmate, maybe, big, brawny, radiating the kind of imposing dominance that forces everyone around them – other alphas included – to sit down and shut up with a look alone. 

The two alphas before you aren’t that. 

The shorter of the two, more wiry in his build than the redhead beside him, smirks. “Good, huh?” 

He’s teasing you. They’re both teasing you. Your cheeks burn hotter. Before you can open your mouth to apologise, try and sidestep you shoving your own foot in your mouth as a first impression, Aya intervenes. 

“You should’ve seen her a minute ago, her jaw was on the ground. She’s playing it cool.”

The sound of her laugh digs at you in a way it shouldn’t. 

It’s not fair, not when you’re the one who’s acting like you don’t have a single working brain cell and she’s trying to cover for you, but it bothers you when Ayako acts like she has to smoothe over your edges, make you more palatable, more pleasing. You’re not an omega, you won’t ever be an omega, and sometimes you can’t help but wonder if Aya’s gonna spend the rest of your lives trying to compensate for that.

Her shoulder knocks with yours, a gentle bump, that same hopeful, painfully optimistic look in her eyes. 

Guilt, an old, familiar friend at this point, washes over you. 

“This is Semi,” she introduces, gesturing at the ash-blond with the ripped jeans, “and Tendou,” the gangly redhead. 

“And you must be our beta,” Semi surmises, slowly eyeing you over. 

The casual possessiveness rankles you, your tight smile freezing in place. Again Ayako simply laughs, her fingers, very deliberately, lacing with yours once more. “She’s my beta, you have yet to win her over.”

Neither alpha appears all that put out by the prospect.

Tendou, eyes crinkling with a wide, eager grin that takes you a little aback, thrusts a hand out towards you, a white gift bag you hadn’t noticed dangling from his fingertips. “Presents help with the whole wooing thing, right?” he jokes.

From your experience, yes. 

Aya’s received plenty. You, as her tag along beta, less so. 

One pack brought you a bouquet of pink and white peonies on your first date. Not quite as  extravagant as the arrangement of roses they presented Aya with, they had a lovely, subtle perfume and when you put them in a vase and set them atop your nightstand, they brightened up the whole room. You could appreciate that they’d at least tried to make you feel an equal part of this. 

They’d been willing to play pretend.

Back then, when Aya first started bringing potential packs around, you were… idealistic. Naive, maybe. 

You watched them dote on her. Lap up Aya’s attention like it was the sweetest fix. You saw the hunger. The arousal that flared, thick and syrupy, whenever she did something unintentionally appealing to the alpha inside of them – a simple stretch, nibbling on her bottom lip while she mulled over a menu, the sway of her hips as she walked up to the bar.

Oh, they were polite to you. Drew you into conversations, chatted about your job, your hobbies, the plans the two of you had for the holidays in a few weeks’ time – all the while tracking every movement of the omega beside you from the corner of their eyes.

They were nice to you. You didn’t want ‘nice’. You wanted what they so freely offered to Aya; hunger and captivated attention, a desire so thick in the air you could choke on it. 

Foolish, pretty fantasies. There’s no competing with biology, you know that. The most interesting, beautiful beta in the room is still just a beta. 

Down below, the court’s quieter, muted chatter drifting up to the bleachers in place of squeaking and thuds and the sharp trill of whistles blowing. Did the practice match finish up?

Aya squeezes your hand. Drops it. As subtle a cue as she can manage. 

Brain kicking back into gear, you step closer and pluck the gift from the alpha’s outstretched hand, an odd little shiver trickling down your spine when the tips of your fingers graze his rough palm. 

“Ah, thank you,” you say, remembering your manners at last.

Tendou’s eyes flutter shut, breathing in deep, shuddering a little on the exhale. When they open again, there’s a giddy sort of satisfaction creeping from his expression. He licks his lips, smiling wide. “Sea salt.”

“… Sorry?”

“The chocolates,” his chin juts towards the gift. “Sea salt caramel. I had a feeling, went with it. I’m not usually wrong.” He sounds absurdly proud of the fact. 

“Oh.” 

Beside you, Aya looks as lost as you feel. Semi, on the other hand, snorts, shaking his head. “You might wanna ease up on the beta, dude. She met you all of three minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but we’re gonna be besties. I can feel it.” Without warning he slings an arm over your shoulders, dragging you close to smush you into his side, unbothered by your startled yelp, the way the bag of chocolates smacks against his torso when the hand clutching it jerks out to steady yourself. “Don’t be jealous ‘cuz I’m already the favourite, Semi-Semi.”

Semi shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, leaning back against the centre railing behind him. Slowly, a smirk unfurls. A challenge. “For now.”

Plastered against Tendou’s side, swallowed up by the heat of him, the heady scent of cherrywood – of alpha – thick and strong, and with no sign of him letting you go anytime soon, you dart a glance to Aya.

Your best, oldest (admittedly only) friend, watching the three of you with a quirked eyebrow, expression otherwise indecipherable–

And then, she giggles, rolling her eyes with exasperated amusement. “Can we at least sit while you two fight over my well-earned spot?” 

You wonder if they notice the brief look of concern she throws your way as Tendou relaxes his hold and the two usher you over to a seat, Semi snagging the one to your left, Aya taking the right.

Her promise from earlier rings in your head. One word and she’ll walk, no questions asked. 

Aya needs a pack. She wants this one. She likes this one, but at some point, she’ll need one. 

Omegas don’t do well long term without mates. Right now her heats are okay, manageable with suppressants and toys – eventually those won’t be enough. They’ll get worse, come without warning, more frequently. The suppressants won’t help, she’ll ache and burn up, forgo food, water, sleep…

The lucky ones end up hospitalised. The unlucky ones either end up dead or in situations where it’d be a kindness if they were. 

“You okay?” she asks, whisper soft. Her voice won’t carry, the other two aren’t paying attention anyway. Semi’s thigh brushes up against yours when he spreads his legs wide, thumbing out a message on his phone, and Tendou’s leaning over the backrest between you, chin perched on his folded forearms, watching him type. 

One word and she’ll walk, that’s what Aya promised. 

Down on the court below, the players spread across the floor, stretching out and cooling down, half empty water bottles and sweat towels scattered around them. Ushjima’s lying on your side of the court, one thigh drawn over the other, twisting out his lower back. If he realises he’s got an audience in you and Aya, he gives no indication of caring, holding the stretch for a few seconds longer before repeating the motion with the other leg. 

“Yeah.”

If chocolates and overly tactile besties are what you get out of this, you can manage that. 

—

While you wait out front of the stadium for Ushijima to finish up, Semi smokes.

A lit cigarette dangles loosely between two fingers, the tip glowing cherry red with every drag. He stands separate from the three of you, a few feet away, because when he’d fished out the slightly crumpled packet from his jacket pocket to pluck one out, Aya’s nose wrinkled. Omegas are sensitive to strong smells at the best of times, and Aya’s loathed the stench of cigarettes ever since she was a kid and her dad would smoke on the back porch of her gran’s place. He died years ago, and to this day she swears up and down that every time she sets foot back there, she smells those Seven Stars.

To her credit, she hadn’t actually said anything, and to Semi’s, he hadn’t kicked up a fuss. He’d shrugged, shuffled on back and lit up anyway. Water off a duck’s back.

Tendou talks loudly and Aya’s giggling laugh echoes louder. Semi watches. Idle – bored, almost. 

Until his gaze shifts to you.

And stays there.

From a young age, you’re taught that alphas are stronger than betas and omegas. They’re quicker. Smarter. In the old days, they tell you, alphas were the hunters, the providers – protectors, when the situation called for it. What they mean, dressing the truth up in nicer, more palatable terms is that alphas are, down to their marrow, predators. 

Those instincts don’t go away just because society’s a little more civilised these days. 

Semi’s expression doesn’t change. There’s nothing particularly dangerous or threatening there, nothing to explain the sudden ball of anxiety that lodges itself in your stomach. 

Yet you can’t shake the sense that with that stare, every ounce of his focus rests solely on you. Every breath, every nervous twitch, shift of your muscles, all of it tracked, analysed. He stares, breathing out a slow plume of smoke, and you feel the physical weight of it bearing down on you.

He won’t bite, lunge for the kill – but he could.

His chin tilts, eyebrow lifting. A flicker of amusement, as if he knows exactly the thoughts running wild in your head. You shake them off, ignore the hammering of your heart to follow the wordless, beckoning call to his side, nudging Aya on the way past so she won’t think you’ve abandoned her. 

“You realise she’s gonna try and get you to quit,” you tell him in what you hope is a friendly, upbeat tone. 

Semi scoffs and takes another drag of his cigarette. You watch, off-kilter, a little dazed as his head tilts back, exposing the long, lithe column of his throat, and he slowly exhales.

With dark, sweeping lashes and angular features, the problem, you realise, is that Semi is distractingly pretty. An artless, grunged up sort of pretty. Pretty like pools of oil on asphalt after it rains. 

Pretty in the way that poisonous things often are. 

“She’s more than welcome to try.” He plucks his cig from his lips and extends it your way, his expression almost… goading. 

You don’t take it.

There isn’t much surprise to be found in your refusal, his pretty mouth pursing as his arm falls by the wayside. “Omega’s got her claws stuck in you good, huh.”

And that’s the rub, isn’t it. What all this boils down to. Right from the start, the very first pack you met and every pack since – Aya’s made it clear from the get-go. They don’t get her without you. You’re her beta. 

“Is that a problem for you?”

You won’t take the cigarette because Aya has issues with it. She won’t entertain you leaving her because the two of you are too fucking entangled in one another to handle extrication.

You’re pack, you’re family, you’re all each other has left, now that her grandma – the woman who essentially raised you and her – is gone. 

You won’t play second fiddle, if only because Aya won’t allow them to push you aside like that. If that’s a problem, a dealbreaker (and, historically speaking, it has been) better they figure it out now, before she – or you – gets too attached and ends up hurt. 

Semi regards you for a long moment, taking one last puff of his cigarette before he flicks it away, grinds the smoldering butt into the cement with the toe of his boot. “Don’t know yet. Guess we’ll find out.”

And you nod, because at least that’s an honest answer. 

“Tendou came back to Japan for her, didn’t he?” It’d twigged when you’d gone to hand back your visitor’s pass and the lady behind the counter made some casual comment about not expecting to see him ‘til next season.

Not back for a visit, back permanently.

Semi shakes his head, “He was always coming back. Paris was only ever a temporary thing,” he corrects. “But yeah, he made the decision to come home early when we realised the opportunity that’d fallen into our laps.”

While you don’t love the way he makes meeting Aya sound, you understand the gravity of what he’s saying. Tendou uprooted his life for her. 

You glance back over your shoulder, fiddling with the handles of the bag of chocolates he’d made for you. They’re still talking, quieter now, both of them subtly – subconsciously, probably – angled towards the two of you; Aya with that same bright-eyed look about her, Tendou like he’s just itching to interrupt and steal your attention back for himself. He, at least, might actually like you. 

“And you? Are you all in, too?”

The words slip out before you can stop them. Semi doesn’t owe you an answer, you know that. It’s not fair that you asked, it’s just– you can’t get a read on him. For all his sharp edges and the smirks that make your insides squirm, you don’t know whether this is what he wants. Wanted, maybe.

Semi surprises you. In a move too quick for you to catch, he closes in on you. He doesn’t pin you down per se. You’re not caged in, trapped between his body and a wall. Physically speaking, there’s nothing stopping you from stepping back and regaining that inch of space as he looms over your shorter frame, tilting your chin upwards with two curled fingers like he’s going to kiss you. 

Nothing except your suddenly jelly legs. 

There’s barely anything separating you. Millimetres. Heat floods your face. Your stomach tightens, blood simmering, writhing beneath your skin. Long fingers encircle your wrist, right where Aya had scented you, his thumb digging in over your fluttering pulse. A noise escapes you then, a distressed sort of whimper you thought yourself above, and Semi’s eyes flick down to your lips, something dark and hungry flaring in response. 

Alpha. Smaller than his packmates, but no less. 

“Who d’you think called him and told him to get his ass back home, little beta?” 

You swallow unsteadily–

“Time to share, Semi-Semi,” Tendou sings, snaking an arm around your waist to haul you away from the blond. To you, he says, “You wanna come say hi to our big, bad pack alpha, don’tcha?” 

It’s then you realise that Ushijima, along with several of his teammates, have finally emerged. While they wave each other off, scattering across the carpark, some heading to their cars, others in the direction of buses and the train station, Ushijima halts near the door – Aya already skipping on over. 

“Ah… yes?”

Tendou snickers. 

“Relax,” Semi tells you with a smirk, clapping your shoulder as he brushes on past. “Ushiwaka doesn’t bite.” 

As Tendou nudges you forward like an errant duckling, you fix Semi with an unimpressed look. He winks. Asshole.

Omegas, especially unbonded omegas, tend to be picky about touch and physical affection outside of pack and family. Aya, for all her moon-eyed infatuation, doesn’t throw herself at the alpha. Ushijima offers a single, wooden pat on her head, the edges of his mouth lifting in what you suppose is an approximation of a smile.

She beams all the same.

“– and this is my beta,” she introduces. 

You’re not anticipating an overly warm welcome. For one, he looks stiff enough smiling at Aya to suspect he’s not practised with the expression, for another… the whole, weird staring thing from earlier sits all too fresh in your mind. If he’d heard your awkward fumbling with his packmates in the aftermath, you doubt that’s helped endear you to him any.

Nothing prepares you for the way he turns, every speck of goodwill falling from his features when your scent finally reaches him. Cold, remote stone, eyeing you down. 

“You smell like lilacs,” he grunts, like the very concept offends him. You, a beta, wearing his would-be mate’s scent. 

—

The izakaya the alphas take you to is only a few minutes walk from the stadium, and each one of them passes in near unbearable, stilted tension. 

Aya doesn’t question you when you make a bee-line for the bathroom rather than following the others to a table, though the small furrow between her brows says plenty.

You just need a minute.

The single unisex stall offers spartan amenities at best – a sink with a cracked mirror hammered into the wall, paper towels, and a lone, flickering light above. 

Braced over the porcelain vanity, eyes closed, shaking like a leaf with remnants of ice-cold water dripping down your face, you will the frantic, sickening churn inside you to ease. 

Fuck. 

What’s wrong with you?

Ushijima could barely stand that Aya had scented you, and you’re supposed to believe he’d let you bond into the pack with her? And if he did, what kind of life would that be? You, forever on the outside, pack but not really, not in the ways that matter. 

What place does a beta have between alphas and their omega?

More to the point, how, after all the packs you and Aya have tried this with, all the the indifference and dismissal you’ve weathered, the cruel insults you weren’t supposed to hear–

Think of it this way, dude; it’s a spare hole for you to stick your cock in while the omega’s busy bouncing on my knot.

–how are you still surprised that they don’t want you?

You let a slow breath out, shoulders sagging. Okay. 

Okay. 

Straightening up, you rip a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser, dabbing to remove any trace of distress from your face. You can do this, you tell yourself. Smile, play pretend. A few drinks, some dumplings, yakitori – two, three hours max.

Nothing’s changed.

The alphas want Ayako. Ayako wants these alphas.

In spite of that, in spite of the blushing and fawning and big, lovely doe eyes that bat ever so prettily for her alphas, she’ll hold true to her promise if you ask it of her. 

No questions asked, without an ounce of resentment, she’d walk away from them. She’d choose you. 

It’d be a few weeks of moping around, picking each other up and dusting yourselves off. There’ll be other packs. Aya’s got a few years yet before her heats really become an issue. You can always try again.

The thing is… you don’t want to anymore.

They like you as a friend. You’re in the way. They wanna fuck you, but only if the omega’s otherwise occupied. You can take care of the household stuff during heats and ruts, right? Maybe one day there could be something more. 

They wouldn’t look twice if it wasn’t for Ayako. 

Every time it hurts, like clawing out pieces of yourself, and you just… you can’t anymore. You won’t.

So tonight, you’ll be the bestie. Let her have her fun, flirt with the big, strong alphas she’s so enamoured by, and then tomorrow… tomorrow you’ll find a way to cut yourself loose from all of this. Aya gets her pack and you can find a nice, normal beta to settle down with. You’ll both be happier for it in the long run. 

Wiping a smudge of mascara from under your eye, you suck in another fortifying breath, nodding at yourself in the mirror. A few hours of pretending is nothing. A piece of cake.

Focused entirely on the veneer you have to slip into, you don’t notice the large, muscular frame blocking the door until you quite literally collide with it.

“Oof– Sorry, my b–”

The words wither like ash on your tongue when you look up to find Ushijima standing over you.

Despite the resolution you’d come to mere moments ago, you’re not feeling particularly charitable towards the hulking behemoth of an alpha, and you have every intention of wordlessly skirting around him to head back to the table and join your friend, civility be damned. 

You make it all of a single step before a change sweeps over him and he stiffens, nostrils flaring like they had back on the court. His eyes bleed black, and that’s the only warning you get before he seizes your wrist in one giant hand and starts to haul you back into the stall, slamming the door shut behind you both. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” you hiss. 

“She scented you,” he growls, looking angrier than he did before. “You smell like omega.”

No, this isn’t anger. Not exactly. Ushijima’s shoulders heave with every breath, his whole frame almost shuddering, pulled taut like a bowstring primed to snap–

And that’s when realisation hits. 

“You’re in a rut,” you whisper, eyes going wide in horror. “Ushiji–” You don’t get to finish the sentence. 

Big should mean slow. Clumsy. Ushijima’s neither. 

In an instant he surges into motion, one hand clamping down over your mouth, the other shoving you forward, trapping you on the tips of your toes between his hulking body and the vanity that was your lifeline five minutes ago. Just like then, your hands automatically reach out, clutching the edge of the sink to steady yourself. Stupid, when the full weight of Ushijima pins you precariously in place anyway.

Your heart hammers, panic and terror clawing at your stomach. You aren’t an omega, you can’t take a knot. If Ushijima tries to fuck you like he wants – like his instincts are driving him to – he’ll tear you apart. He’ll break you. 

But if any part of the mindless, snarling alpha behind you recognises that, he doesn’t care. The warm body in his grasp smells like lilacs, like the omega outside, and that’s good enough.

He noses at your hair and pants, yanking your skirt up to rip at your underwear. The fabric gives easily.

While he rips and claws at his own clothes to free his cock, Ushijima stares at your reflection, watching you shake as the tears well up and spill over. There’s nothing human there, nothing cognizant. The black pits staring back at you are pure alpha, consumed by the need to fuck and breed. 

You have seconds – seconds – to brace yourself.

Ushijima drags the head of his cock along your slit just once, bends you over, and without warning or preamble, splits you in two. 

Omegas have slick to help with sudden ruts. You don’t. 

It doesn’t matter that you’re not prepared to take him, that it hurts worse than anything you’ve experienced before and you’re choking on tears and muffled wails. You scream into his hand and Ushijima grunts, bullying his cock into you one agonising millimetre at a time. 

He fucks into you like you’re made to take his cock, every thrust slamming you into the unforgiving edge of the sink while your legs scramble for purchase. You’re fairly sure you’re close to passing out when you feel the swell of his knot start to catch. 

Oblivious to your panic, the wheezing cries and pleas dashed against his palm, the alpha snarls in open-mouthed pleasure, his spare hand coming down to cover one of your own, braced against the sink. “Mine.”

With the added weight, the vanity unit rattles against the wall, and you pray that someone’s walking by and hears it, cares enough to come investigate.

You aren’t that lucky, though.

Ushijima hauls you back upright, and as his knot swells, thick and pulsing, stretching you to breaking point and spurts of hot cum coat your insides, you cling on to consciousness just long enough to watch him tilt your chin to the side, lap at a bead of sweat trailing down your neck, and bury his teeth in your skin. 

—

Three days after your release from hospital, you wake to Aya knocking at your bedroom.

“S’posed to be at the bakery,” you mumble, curling tighter into the warm cocoon of your sheets. Soft morning light spills into your room. You can’t be bothered reaching for your phone to see the time, however your internal clock tells you that whatever the time is, it’s too early.

Aya sighs, taking that as an invitation to slip inside and plant herself on the edge of the mattress beside you. “Soon. I swapped shifts so I could start a bit later. I didn’t want…” she seems to struggle to find the right words, her shoulders rising and falling in a helpless shrug. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

That isn’t the problem. 

“You remember the day your mom left?” The stark flinch beneath the covers must serve as answer enough. “You wouldn’t stop crying. Gran was so worried you’d make yourself sick, kept bringing you tea, bottles of water, anything to keep you hydrated.” 

An omega like her granddaughter, the last of her alphas having passed away a few years before, she’d paced fretfully outside Aya’s bedroom door for hours while you’d sobbed into your best friend’s arms, an absolute wreck. 

A bittersweet feeling floods your heart at the memory. No one ever loved you like gran did. 

Aya continues, “I made a decision that day. I wasn’t going to leave. I wasn’t going to run off with a bunch of alphas to live out some fairytale happily ever after and leave you behind. You can blame me for what happened. I get it. If I hadn’t scented you, he–” she breaks off with a sharp inhale.

He wouldn’t have tipped into a rut.

Wouldn’t have fucked you.

Knotted you.

Bit you. 

“You can blame me for it,” she repeats, though her voice shakes and her eyes shine with tears she won’t let fall. “Hate me for it if you have to, so long as you know I’m not going anywhere. You’re still my beta, my best friend. All I wanted was to keep us together.”

Aya waits for you to say something. To forgive or condemn, and you try– you genuinely do, because blaming her isn’t fair, and you could no sooner hate her than you could carve out a lung. 

Only… you open your mouth and there’s nothing. 

The way her expression collapses before she has a chance to plaster over it hits you like a punch to the stomach. 

“Alright, lovely girl. I’ll see you when I get back – four-ish probably, unless we get hit with a late rush. I’ll try and steal some of those mini strawberry cakes to bring home too, I know how much you like them,” she rambles, patting your blanket covered knee and rising to her feet. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Aya–”

Already halfway to the door, she turns, perfect brow arched, “Hm?” Like she’s expecting you to ask for another blanket. Some tea. Nothing wrong, nothing amiss. 

“Love you, too.”

And it’s like the sun coming out from the clouds. Aya beams a watery smile, and quietly closes the door behind her. 

Sleep drags you back under before you hear the front door click. The doctors warned you about that; one of the many charming side effects you’d be subjected to over the next few weeks.

Bond sickness, they called it. An alpha’s bite formed a mating bond, and that bond doesn’t respond well when it’s neglected, say by putting several miles of distance between you and the alpha who marked you. For omegas it can be deadly if it goes on long enough. Alphas have a sense of it, but it doesn’t affect them in the same way. They don’t get sick. For you, it means a month or so of lethargy, aches, low grade fevers and chills, nausea, a veritable shopping list of symptoms that’ll ease and fade as the bond itself does. 

None of that had stopped one of the nurse’s at the hospital from suggesting that, despite the delicate nature of the situation, it might be beneficial for your health if you moved in with Ushijima and his pack until it did fade. 

It was Aya who’d jumped down her throat for that one. 

You were still in shock. Numb–

Except for the foreign, slow simmering anger lodged like a thorn between your ribs. A small piece of you that wasn’t you at all. 

—

Sometime around midmorning, you stir again.

There’s footsteps in the living room, pattering through towards your bedroom. Dancing on the edge of awake, your brain slow and sluggish, jumps to the most logical conclusion. 

“Aya?” 

You expect your door to open, that familiar bloom of lilacs to spill into your room along with your best friend, a bowl of noodle soup from the shop on the corner in tow, the strawberry cakes she promised earlier, extra pillows, coffee, her laptop with your favourite movie already queued up; comfort things she knows will help.

The door does swing open, and neither one of the tall, looming frames behind it belong to Aya. 

“Sorry to disappoint, little beta,” Semi drawls, crossing the threshold like he has every right to be there. “Your girlfriend’s busy, you’re gonna have to play with us instead.”

The blood in your veins runs cold. 

Drawing your legs up tight to put as much distance between you and the advancing alpha as you can, your eyes dart between the two, Tendou lingering in the doorway, fingers drumming against the jamb. 

“I didn’t report him. I’m not going to,” you tell them, clutching at the blankets around you so your hands won’t shake. “I know how it’ll go, I’m not i-interested in–”

Semi reaches your bed. That look he’d had in his eyes back at the stadium, dark, focused, predatory – it’s there again, sharp and gleaming. He’s smirking. 

“There’s no– you don’t need to threaten me, or-or try to scare me–” His knee hits the mattress and your voice jumps to a squeak as he climbs on up.

You squirm back against the headboard. Semi prowls closer. 

There’s nowhere for you to go. 

Tendou’s not so subtly placed himself between you and the exit, and even if you could launch yourself out of bed without Semi catching you – without your head spinning and stomach threatening to upheave – they’re alphas. You couldn’t outrun them on a good day, you sure as hell can’t fight them.  

“Please. You can go. I-I won’t say anything.”

“Fuck, that’s cute,” Tendou shivers, the deep red of his iris nearly swallowed by black. His fingers aren’t idly drumming anymore, they’re digging into the wood, splintering it beneath his grip. 

Inches away from you, Semi suddenly freezes, his attention snapping downwards to focus on something near his right hand. His nose wrinkles, lip curling. “You wanna know what I liked best about the omega?” he asks, lifting his gaze back to you. “I don’t think you really believed me back at the stadium.”

You shake your head. You don’t want to know. If they aren’t here to scare you into keeping your mouth shut about Ushijima, then–

A low, husky chuckle comes from the doorway. 

“When she’d show up smelling like the sea in summer.” 

He strikes hard and fast – seizing your ankle to yank you under him. His mouth finds the soft curve where your neck meets your shoulder and he bites down. Hard. 

Agony washes you over you, chased by fire. 

Panting wildly, your body locks up, arcing against him; against the warmth that crowds you, the hard muscles that cage you, the face now tucked into the crook of your neck, licking at the bloody, oozing wound. 

He’s there inside of you, too. Buried beneath your skin, brimming with smug satisfaction. 

“Bite her and we’ll take her home to the nest. I’m not fucking her here,” he calls over his shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on you. He pats your hair, strokes your cheek. “Little beta needs her mates, don’t you?”

“Course she does!”

You’re gasping for air that won’t come, trembling, heart beating so frantically inside your chest you worry it’ll give out.

Tendou, bounding over with puppy-like eagerness, jumps on the bed and shoves his fellow alpha out of the way. 

“A…ya,” you rasp, weakly pushing at the large body crawling atop yours. You’re not sure whether it’s a question or a plea, but you get the sense that it doesn’t actually matter either way. 

Semi rolls his eyes – you can feel the flicker of his irritation – while Tendou, pawing at your sleep tee, pushing it up and shoving his face into the soft skin revealed there only groans, huffing at your scent like he can’t get enough. 

“Pretty omega like her? She’ll have her own alphas to worry about,” Semi dismisses, a faint frown marring his pretty face as he zeros in on the bandage over your neck. 

A split second too late, you realise his intentions. 

“No, don’t–”

He rips off the gauze.

Ushijima’s bite is puffy and inflamed. Calloused fingertips drift over the edges of the wound, Semi’s eyes boring into you as you let out a low, anxious whine. As Tendou licks and nips at your chest, working his way upwards, the blond increases the pressure, digging in.

You choke on a cry, pleasure, rather than pain, flooding and overwhelming your senses, and deep in your core, the answering surge of rabid need rips through you so viciously it punches the air from your lungs–

“We don’t fucking share.”

–and you scream as Tendou’s teeth sink into the curve of your breast, claiming you one final time.

[spoksstuff]

so much more than just friends 🥹

all credits to the original artist @warawarayii on X

[cxvii666]

no-context boyfriend txts w/ ten

FEATURING!

YUJI ITADORI, DENKI KAMINARI, HANTA SERO, hitoshi shinsou, eren yeager, ryuunoske tanaka, KEIGO TAKAMI, takuma ino, connie springer, hajime iwaizumi, issei matsukawa, (i could see) yuuta okkotsu, osamu miya, tetsurou kuroo, satori tendou, yuu nishinoya, koushi sugawara, satoru gojo, also suguru geto (he gives closet weirdo), jean kirstein, yuuji terushima, togata mirio + ur faves ofc x

[cottonlemonade]

“So, what made you come to Paris?“, you asked, spearing a buttery potato with your fork.

“Ever seen the movie Ratatouille? Completely changed my life. I just knew I had to follow Remy‘s footsteps.“

Tendou immediately regretted his answer the moment the words leaped out of his mouth. He finally managed to ask you out, a girl so far out of his league that he had already sent bragging texts to his former teammates before he even got dressed for the first date, and now this. You looked at him, blinked for a moment, and just as he started seeing his life flashing before his eyes, you burst out into a snort of laughter. A few people at nearby tables turned to stare but he only waved them off, focusing on you trying to regain composure.

For weeks he had seen you in the afternoon waiting for the same train as him. In the mornings your route to work took you by the shop he worked at and one day, as you were ogling the pralines displayed in the window, biting your lip in torn temptation, you had made eye contact with him and soon started smiling and nodding and eventually even waving to him as you passed the chocolaterie. He figured, once he was at the train station you didn‘t recognize him without his large white hat and pristine uniform and he didn‘t know how to approach you. That was until a terribly helpful gust of wind blew your scarf right off your neck and he chased it down for you, giving him the perfect opportunity to ask for your name, your number, and your time to get together.

And now you sat across from him in a corner of a tiny restaurant, with lights dancing in your eyes, wearing a dress that was obviously designed to make him crazy with how exquisitely it wrapped around your soft body.

You cleared your throat and said, “I was always more a Beauty and the Beast girly myself. After seeing it I always yelled Bonjour! every morning - drove my friends and family nuts! People on the street were looking at me weird, too, so I decided to move to France.“

Now it was on Tendou to laugh. Wiping a tear out of the corner of his eyes he chuckled, “I love you.”

“Hm?”

“I asked if you wanted to get dessert.”

You beamed at him and nodded.

[mimidiann]

oh and I meant to

[imafoolha]

I love doodling

[struwberrii]

haikyuu!! boys crushing on you ₊˚⊹♡

here are some silly headcanons on how i think the shiratorizawa guys would act while they have a crush on you + eventually confess :3

characters: ushijima, tendou, semi, shirabu, goshiki

˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆

ushijima

its weird because he knows he likes you and everyone else THINKS he MIGHT like you but hes so blunt and deadpan that its hard to tell

he doesnt treat you differently than he treats any other person but hes very kind and generous

gives you random compliments though, like is hes thinking something he just says it to you

'you look very beautiful today' or 'are you wearing a new perfume? it smells nice'

but at the same time he accidentally insults you like hell ask you when the last time you showered was

because of this nobody can really tell exactly how he feels about you until he eventually confesses

he would probably be very deadpan and unromantic about his confession too, he would just straight up ask you to go out with him (˶˃⤙˂˶)

but TRUST once he gets you out hes bringing you flowers, hes buying you your favorite snacks, hes holding doors for you pulling your chairs out for you

u rlly gotta trust the process LMAO i feel like hes just a lil dummy

tendou

i feel like he wouldnt confess because hes rlly insecure and doesnt think anyone would ever have romantic feelings for him so you would probably have to confess

he does little things to let you know he cares about you, like hed suggest manga he thinks youd like or some songs or has movie nights with you and brings snacks

jokes around a lot with you and actually shows a vulnerable side when hes alone with you

i can see him inviting you out just randomly and casually, like bringing you to a bakery he likes or going to the park with you late at night to swing on the swing sets and chat

also compliments you very boldly but immediately gets super blushy and flustered and starts stuttering ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

probably teases you a lot though but gets really nervy if hes too flirty about it

i feel like youd DEF have to confess but he'd probably be throwing you hints all night, complimenting you, buying you little keychains or snacks, holding your bags for you all that jazz

once you guys are officially together OH MY GOSH is he a different person, constantly flirting and teasing and now youre the one blushing and left stuttering by his words ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

semi

hes actually very sweet and chill about it

like when he first meets you hed probably just straight up say youre really pretty and ask for your phone number

hed be shocked to learn that you actually have a lot in common with him

overall is just very flirty and romantic while crushing on you, like he makes it NO secret that he has feelings for you (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)

jokes about you being his girlfriend but surprisingly take a while to actually ask you out

despite that he still is very protective over you and literally treats you like youre his girlfriend

def writes songs for you and sends voice memos of him playing them on his guitar ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

i feel like he wouldnt really try to hard to impress you or anything, hed just feel comfortable being himself around you and doesnt want you to end up falling for someone who isnt him (as in him not acting like himself)

invites you out on dates often before officially asking you out

he ends up asking you out with a cute stuffed animal and candy at your doorstep

shirabu

lurks from the shadows

i feel like he would probably push you away and be kind of cold twoards you because he thinks your really pretty but doesnt want to have feelings for you

i feel like hed just watch you and like admire you from a distance

would probably be too scared to have a genuine conversation with you so he sends you annonymous notes

hes your little secret admirer ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

his notes are so sweet though, like he writes you poems and tells you how nice you looked

i feel like hed be ok just being your secret admirer forever but he realizes he wont be your classmate forever so he ends up writing a note to meet him on the roof of the school during lunch

you end up meeting up with him and he asks you on an official date ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

goshiki

CONSTANTLLY trying to impress you (╥﹏╥)

just a big dork honestly

always invites you to his practices so he can show off his skills to you

if you compliment him hed probably be all blushy and smiley and hit you with the 'yeah it was nothin'

invites you out to play gacha machines and spends a bunch of money on you trying to win the figures you want

also brings you snacks and gives them to you during lunch (˶˃⤙˂˶)

honestly would do anything for your validation

tries to be cool and tough but you see right through that act almost immediately

probably invites you out to a movie and awkwardly tries to hold your hand but only ends up brushing hands with you

would try to ask you out after the movie ends but hed just be stuttering then ends up saying nevermind

you probably have to ask him out lol

even after all that hes STILL trying to act like a tough guy

[sassycheesecake]

- ATSUMU MIYA, TŌRU OIKAWA, KŌTARŌ BOKUTO, Shōyō Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, LEV HAIBA, Satori Tendō, SHŪGO MEIAN, KIYOOMI SAKUSA

[artisticxlly]

Fuck it, Haikyu!! characters and their unusual skills hcs

Ushijima is very good with distinguishing tastes. Like he can tell you if a drink is or isn't diet (combine this with diabetic tendou?? for the ultimately sweet (pun intended) moment of him telling the waitress that his boyfriends drink isn't diet and that he'd like another, please) also this makes him a very good candidate for developing chocolate recipes

Kuroo and Kenma learned some simple sign language to communicate without words (comes in handy when Kenma gets overwhelmed at a party, for example). Sometimes, they use it early in the mornings because neither of them are early birds and get grumpy without caffeine.

Kageyama has a very sensitive sense of smell. He will outright tell Hinata if he changed his shampoo because he can smell it (and because most of the time doesn't like it).

The Miya twins are actually really decent singers if you get some alcohol into them. They are also really good at whistling (it annoys the hell out of their partners sometimes).

Sakusa can mimic people really well (he's perceptive and picks up on their habits and speech patterns really quickly) and his impression of Atsumu has made for quite a few scenarios where their team cannot stop laughing because of how good it is.

Kita can sleep practically anywhere if he's exhausted, he just chooses not to for his own dignity (until he moves in with Aran anyways, who finds him asleep spread out on the floor multiple times).

Suna has a very dextrous tongue, i.e., he can tie a cherry stem in his mouth (do with that information what you want, honestly)

Hirugami can mimic certain animal sounds really well and sometimes does so almost out of reflex (maybe a verbal stim?) when he treats animals at his job (i.e. he'll "mreow" right back at a cat).

Akaashi can wiggle his ears and nose and does it sometimes when he's bored.

Bokuto can walk on his hands when he does a handstand (I mean, overall, I think that he could be very good at gymnastics)

[kwadlayns]

Look, it's two of the toughest middle blockers at nationals... 💦

hc their teams have had practice matches against each other once or twice

[sweetlyvibe]

“𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮” - 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗄𝗒𝗎𝗎 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 ╰► ❨ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 ❩

- 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝖠𝗌𝖺𝗁𝗂 𝖠𝗓𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾 ⋆ 𝖣𝖺𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂 𝖲𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖺 ⋆ 𝖪𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗄𝖾 ⋆ 𝖲𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂 𝖳𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗎 ⋆ 𝖬𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗎𝗄𝖾 𝖸𝖺𝗄𝗎 ⋆ 𝖪𝖾𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝖪𝗈𝗓𝗎𝗆𝖾

Asahi realized he loved you one day after you visited him at practice. You were laughing and talking with his teammates, treating everyone with warmth and kindness, and it just hit him: he never wanted to be without you. The thought was so overwhelming that he spent the next few days flustered and avoiding eye contact, wondering how he’d ever tell you.

Finally, one evening when you’re both walking home together, you mention something funny that happened at school, and he just blurts out, “I… I think I love you.” His face is tomato red, and he’s barely holding eye contact, heart hammering in his chest. When you smile softly and say, “I love you too, Asahi,” he practically melts on the spot, his whole face lighting up in shy happiness.

Daichi knew he loved you during a team dinner. You’d insisted on helping organize everything, making sure everyone had enough to eat, even cracking jokes to ease the tension after a tough game. He watched you effortlessly handle the chaos, feeling something solid click into place—this was love.

After a few days of thinking about it, he finally decides to tell you. You’re both in the middle of a playful argument over who’s the better cook, and he suddenly stops, looking at you seriously. “I love you,” he says, like he’s sharing a fact he’s known forever. You pause, caught off guard, then smile and say, “Well, I love you too, obviously!” He laughs, relieved, and pulls you into a tight hug, wondering why he’d ever worried.

Kita realized he loved you in one of those simple, everyday moments—you were just helping him harvest some vegetables, chatting and laughing under the sun. He found himself staring, thinking, this is it, this is where I’m supposed to be.

Later that evening, he pulls you aside on the porch as you watch the stars. There’s a calm confidence in his voice as he says, “I love you.” It’s not flashy or dramatic, but it’s so Kita—honest, steady, and true. You feel warmth spread through your whole body as you reply, “I love you too.” He nods, looking satisfied, and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Tendou’s realization hit him like a lightning bolt one day while he was rambling on about his favorite anime. You were listening so intently, your eyes shining with interest, and he thought, Wait… no one’s ever actually cared this much about my weird stuff. That’s when he knew.

A few days later, you’re both at an arcade, laughing and trying to beat each other’s high scores. Out of nowhere, he says, “I love you.” You look up, a little surprised, and he gives you that signature mischievous smile, adding, “Yeah, you heard me.” You break into a huge grin, saying, “I love you too, you nerd.” He laughs, relieved and happy, and playfully ruffles your hair.

Yaku’s moment of realization came when you patched him up after a rough game. You were so gentle, fussing over his scraped knees, and he couldn’t stop staring at you, thinking, I could get used to this. The thought of you caring for him so sweetly felt too good to be true.

A few days later, he finally works up the nerve to tell you. You’re out together, talking about everything and nothing, when he stops mid-sentence and says, “I love you, you know?” It’s straightforward, with a hint of that proud Yaku confidence. You blink, processing, then smile, leaning in close to whisper, “I love you too.” He tries to play it cool but ends up beaming, completely thrilled.

Kenma realized he loved you during a quiet gaming session at his place. You were sitting beside him, just there in the background, but somehow, it felt right. He didn’t need anyone else—he just wanted you. The realization made him so nervous he avoided telling you for days, worried he might ruin things.

But one night, as you’re leaving, he stops you at the door and says, “I… love you.” It’s barely a whisper, but you hear it, your face lighting up with a smile. “I love you too, Kenma.” He looks away, trying to hide his blushing face, but you catch the soft smile creeping onto his lips, and he lets out a quiet sigh of relief, feeling lighter than ever.

[dodofoge]

This is for @kings-highway because I wanted to tell them I really liked their reblog comment on my Daichi and Kageyama comic 🌟

Link to their original post: https://www.tumblr.com/kings-highway/772153580671123456/look-i-have-my-own-reasons-for-pushing-my?source=share

[jiuwi]

THEY’RE AWAY FOR TRAINING CAMP ！

𖦹 ft. haikyuu men ; established relationship

𖦹 BOKUTO KOUTAROU

misses you 24/7, probably gets distracted a lot during training too because of it

sends you a million texts and pictures about what he’s doing (↓)

“i’m eating dinner now :D”

“i miss u :((((”

“I LOVE UUUU MWA!!!!!”

...will most likely send a picture of him in a sleeveless top ( without him knowing his effect on you )

𖦹 KOZUME KENMA

the type to say “i wish i was home with you instead.”

sends you cute pictures of all the cats he encounters

would send you a picture of himself but only his eye or hair is shown

“i ate apple pie today”

“(⁠/⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠(⁠-⁠ω⁠-⁠) hugs”

“i got you a cute keychain, it’s cute like u :)”

𖦹 TENDOU SATORI

always asks how you’re doing through texts

“have you eaten yet?”

“how was your day?”

“rest well (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆”

i have a feeling he does video calls but he’d be too shy to show his face so he always points his phone at the ceiling ( though it always ends with him sending you flying kisses )

sends you a picture of a half-eaten ice cream with the caption: “missing you hours”.

𖦹 SAWAMURA DAICHI

always asks how you’re doing through calls and texts (pt. 2)

“how was your day?”

“take a well-deserved rest, okay?”

“i miss you so much.”

has a picture of you on his lockscreen and considers it as his ‘lucky charm’

a big puppy on the inside so he always melts when you ask him about his day ( if his day was stressful, he’d 100% tear up while explaining it )

[fayelero]

ⓘ 01. GETTING YOU FLUSTERED !

⤷ multiple ﹫ female reader ﹫ fluff ﹫ drabbles

⌗ bokuto, kageyama, kuroo, tendou, atsumu, osamu, suna, kenma, tsukishima, semi, iwaizumi

⚠︎ suggestive for some of them, fluff .ᐟ.ᐟ

𓍯𓂃 bokuto kotaro

Bokuto’s golden eyes lock onto yours with a sharp, knowing intensity, the kind that sets your skin ablaze before he even speaks. He leans in just slightly, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of his lips—cocky, playful, and entirely too devastating. Your breath catches, heat rushing to your cheeks as his gaze never wavers, holding you there like a prisoner to his wicked amusement. “What’s wrong, babe?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, fully aware of the effect he has on you. The smirk deepens, and you swear your heart might just give out as his fingers brush against your wrist—light, fleeting, but enough to send a shiver straight down your spine.

He chuckles, the sound rich and smug, as if he can see right through you—see the way your pulse is racing, the way your lips part just slightly, searching for a comeback that won’t come. His fingers trail higher, tracing lazy circles against your skin, and when he finally tilts his head, his smirk turning downright sinful, you swear you forget how to breathe. “You always get this flustered when I look at you like that?” he teases, voice dripping with amusement, but there’s something darker beneath it—something possessive, hungry. He inches closer, so close you can feel his breath ghost over your lips, and just when you think he’ll kiss you, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, leaving you burning, aching, and hopelessly addicted to the way he unravels you with nothing but a look.

𓍯𓂃 kageyama tobio

Kageyama isn’t one for grand gestures, but the way he sneaks in those fleeting, stolen kisses when no one is looking? It’s downright lethal. One moment, you’re standing beside him, completely unsuspecting, and the next, his lips brush against the side of your temple—so quick, so soft, you almost think you imagined it. But then he does it again, this time at the corner of your mouth, so subtle yet so deliberate it sends a rush of heat straight through you. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge the way your breath hitches or how your fingers curl into fists at your sides. Instead, he just keeps his expression neutral, only the slight twitch of his lips betraying his amusement. And when you finally manage to shoot him a flustered glare, cheeks burning, he just shrugs, leans in one last time, and murmurs against your skin, “You make it too easy.”

As if to prove his point, he does it again—this time a featherlight press of his lips just below your ear, so quick yet so devastating that your entire body tenses. Your breath stutters, heart hammering against your ribs, and he knows it. You can feel the way his lips linger for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, the ghost of a smirk hidden against your skin. And then he’s gone, standing beside you as if nothing happened, eyes fixed ahead like the perfect picture of innocence. But when you dare to glance up at him, you catch it—the slightest hint of mischief flickering in his deep blue eyes, his hand brushing against yours like a silent promise: This isn’t over.

𓍯𓂃 tetsuro kuroo

Kuroo is relentless, a walking storm of teasing fingers and knowing smirks, completely unbothered by when or where he touches you—because to him, there’s never a bad time to drive you insane. His hands are always on you, tracing lazy patterns along your thighs when you sit beside him, ghosting over your lower back as he passes by, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt just to rest against your waist like he belongs there. And he does it so effortlessly, so naturally, that it leaves you breathless every single time. His fingers toy with the ends of your hair, tugging just enough to make your stomach flip, his palm pressing firmly against the curve of your hip when he pulls you closer, his touch burning through the fabric of your clothes like a brand. And the worst part? He knows what he’s doing. The way your breath catches, the way you shiver under his touch—he drinks it in, smirking against your ear as he leans in, voice low and full of sinful amusement. “You get flustered way too easily, babe,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping beneath your chin to tilt your gaze up to his. “Good thing I don’t mind making it worse.”

As if to prove his point, his fingers trail down, tracing the column of your throat with a touch so light it sends a full-body shiver ripping through you. His smirk deepens, eyes dark with satisfaction as his hands find your waist again, gripping just hard enough to make your breath hitch. And then—because he’s Kuroo, because he lives to see you unravel—he dips his head, lips barely grazing your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mock innocence, his fingers kneading slow, deliberate circles into your hips. “Can’t handle me?” He’s taunting you, playing with you like it’s his favorite game, and when your hands fly up to his chest to push him away—halfhearted and weak—he just chuckles, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of your lips before pulling back, eyes gleaming. “Baby,” he muses, hands still resting on you, still making your skin burn. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

𓍯𓂃 atsumu miya

Atsumu is shameless, and he knows exactly what he’s doing when he tugs you in by the waist—fast, effortless, like it’s second nature. One second you’re standing there, minding your own business, and the next, his hands are locked around you, pulling you flush against him with a grip that’s all confidence and zero hesitation. He leans in close, lips hovering just over your ear, his breath warm and teasing as his fingers flex against your sides. “Didn’t expect that, did ya?” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, his smirk pressed into the curve of your jaw. He waits for it, the way your breath stutters, the way your hands instinctively clutch at his arms like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. And when your cheeks go hot, when you finally manage to stammer out something incoherent, he chuckles—low, deep, and entirely too smug. “Aww, look at ya,” he coos, tilting his head back just enough to drink in your flustered expression, his grip on you tightening like he has no plans of letting go. “Y’always get this shy when I touch ya like this?”

As if he hasn’t already wrecked you enough, he gives your waist a playful squeeze, pulling you in just a fraction closer—like he needs you there, pressed up against him. His smirk deepens when you suck in a sharp breath, and before you can even think of escaping, he dips his head, brushing his lips against your temple in a featherlight tease. “Mmh,” he mutters, his voice laced with pure mischief, fingers still firm against your sides. “I think I like ya even more when you’re speechless.”

𓍯𓂃 tendou satori

Tendō is usually all sharp grins and endless chatter, but when he goes silent—really silent—it’s dangerous. You’re mid-sentence, voice steady, trying to keep your train of thought, but then it happens. His gaze flickers down—just for a second—to your lips, slow and deliberate, before dragging back up to your eyes. And suddenly, every word dies in your throat. He doesn’t smirk, doesn’t tease, just watches you with that unnervingly intense stare, his crimson eyes dark with something unreadable, something that sends a shiver straight down your spine. The weight of his gaze alone sets you on fire, but it’s the way he tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, as if debating whether to act on whatever thought just crossed his mind, that really makes you unravel. He leans in just a little, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, and then—just when you think he might actually kiss you—he pulls back with a hum, lips curling into a knowing smirk. “What’s wrong?” he muses, amusement dripping from his voice as he rests his chin in his palm. “You were saying something, right?”

𓍯𓂃 osamu miya

Osamu isn’t the type to make a big show of affection, but when he does? It’s enough to knock the air from your lungs. You don’t even hear him coming—not until his arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest in one smooth, effortless motion. A startled gasp escapes you, but before you can even process the warmth of him, his lips brush against your cheek—soft, slow, but deliberate. The heat of his breath lingers against your skin, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t let go, just holds you there like he has all the time in the world. “Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he murmurs, his voice low, lazy, but there’s something smug beneath it—something that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. His grip tightens just slightly, his fingers pressing into your hips as he tilts his head, his lips barely an inch from your ear now. “But ya went all quiet on me,” he muses, his tone rich with amusement. “That mean ya liked it?”

𓍯𓂃 suna rintaro

Suna doesn’t just hug you—he engulfs you, his arms locking around you in a way that makes it impossible to escape, like he needs you this close. His body is warm against yours, solid, unyielding, but it’s the way his lips press against your neck—slow, unhurried—that really sets your skin on fire. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you a second to breathe, just keeps kissing along the sensitive curve of your throat, each press of his lips sending a shiver down your spine. His grip tightens as you squirm, a deep hum vibrating in his chest like he finds your reaction amusing. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and laced with something dark, something teasing. Another kiss—this time just beneath your ear, slower, more deliberate. “You’re shakin’,” he notes, his tone smug, his arms still locked around you, holding you in place. He finally pauses, just for a second, his breath hot against your neck. “Too much for you?” But before you can even think of answering, his lips are back on you—this time, with even less restraint.

𓍯𓂃 kenma kozume

Kenma is subtle, effortless in the way he completely disarms you without even trying. He doesn’t say anything when he leans into you, just rests his head against your shoulder like it’s second nature, like you were made to support him. The warmth of him seeps into your skin, and you swear your heartbeat stumbles, but he stays perfectly calm—his fingers idly seeking yours out, lacing them together in a loose but deliberate grip. It’s such a simple thing, the way he holds your hand, the way his thumb brushes absentmindedly against your skin, but it sends a rush of warmth straight to your cheeks. You try to focus on anything else, anything but the way he’s practically melting against you, so at ease, so soft—but then he sighs, the tiniest, most content sound, and you swear your heart nearly gives out. He shifts slightly, just enough to glance up at you through half-lidded golden eyes, his expression unreadable. And then, as if sensing your flustered state, he squeezes your hand once and murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, “You’re warm.” Simple. Quiet. But enough to wreck you completely.

𓍯𓂃 tsukishima kei

Tsukishima isn’t one for big displays of affection, but when he decides to fluster you? He doesn’t miss. It happens so fast you barely have time to process it—one second, you’re standing beside him in a crowded space, and the next, he’s leaning down, his height making it effortless for him to hover just over you. His breath brushes against your ear, his voice so low, so quiet, that it’s meant for you and no one else. “I love you.” Three simple words, but the way he says them—soft, deliberate, intimate—has your entire body locking up. You feel his smirk before you even see it, the faintest tilt of his lips as he pulls back just enough to watch your reaction, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. He doesn’t need to tease, doesn’t need to say anything else—he just watches, waiting for the inevitable flush to creep up your neck, for the way your fingers twitch like you don’t know what to do with yourself. And then, as if he didn’t just ruin you in the middle of a public space, he straightens up, pushing his glasses up with an infuriating nonchalance. “What? Did you want me to say it louder?”

𓍯𓂃 hajime iwaizumi

Iwaizumi doesn’t even think about it—it’s instinct, second nature, the way his hand always finds its place on your waist. It doesn’t matter where you are or who’s around; his grip is firm, steady, possessive in a way that makes your heart race every single time. He’ll guide you through a crowd with an effortless pull, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make your breath catch. Or worse—he’ll stand behind you, his palm resting against your hip like it belongs there, his thumb absentmindedly stroking slow, teasing circles against your skin. And he acts so casual about it, barely even glancing at you while you’re left burning under his touch. But then—when he finally does look down at you, noticing the way you tense, the way your fingers grip at your clothes like you’re trying to compose yourself—he smirks, tilting his head slightly. “What’s with that look?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “You get flustered that easily?” His fingers tighten just slightly, a silent reminder of how close he is, and when you stammer out something incoherent, he just chuckles, leaning in to mutter, “Better get used to it, sweetheart.”

𓍯𓂃 semi eita

Semi doesn’t do things halfway—when he kisses you, he really kisses you. It’s never just a soft peck or a fleeting brush of lips; it’s deep, deliberate, and all-consuming. And the fact that he does it in public? That just makes it worse. One second, you’re standing there, minding your business, and the next, his hand is gripping your jaw, tilting your face up to his before his lips crash against yours. It’s not just a kiss—it’s claiming, his tongue sliding against yours with no hesitation, no shame, like he wants people to see. His fingers press into your skin, keeping you close, holding you in place as he kisses you like he has something to prove. And when he finally pulls back—leaving you breathless, your lips tingling, your entire body burning—he just smirks, brushing his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. “What?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “Too much for you?” His eyes gleam with amusement, knowing damn well he just wrecked you in front of everyone, and as he leans in again, lips barely an inch from yours, he adds, “Better get used to it, babe. I’m not done yet.”