#hq fanfics

[pearlsephoni]

Coffee for Two

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: T

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Iwaoi (Iwaizumi/Oikawa); mentioned Sakuatsu (Sakusa/Atsumu)

Characters: Tooru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Atsumu Miya

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: Tooru Oikawa's work as a barista is simply a means to an end until he joins the V.League. The last thing he needs is a secret admirer leaving presents around the café and making him look forward to this cursed job.  

A/N: Written for @/Katefacee on AO3 as part of the HQ Valentine’s Day Exchange over on Twitter! This was originally published on AO3 on February 14th.

“Kawa-kuuuuun— Woah, what’s wrong with you?”

Tooru lifted his head from the counter and blinked at his coworker. “Look who decided to come in.”

“Huh?” Atsumu breezed into the backroom of the cafe, the small space letting the metallic slide of his coat on a hook and the rustle of him tying his apron reach Tooru at the cash register. “I told ya I’d be late today. Got it approved and everything.”

“It seems awfully convenient that you couldn’t make it to your only opening shift this month.”

“Awww, don’t be bitter, Tooru-chan.” Atsumu joined him at the register with a pat on his shoulder. It was deeply frustrating, how good he still looked despite coming straight-in from the cold. The wind had artfully tousled his bleached hair and left his cheeks looking nice and rosy. It only made Tooru more self-conscious of his own hair, left unstyled and frizzy in his rush to get to the cafe on time.

“You left me to open alone. Let me be bitter.”

“Fine, fine.” In his own version of an apology, Atsumu began restocking the fridges and re-brewing coffee for the canisters, letting Tooru continue to lay on the cashier counter. “How was opening?”

“A group of moms going on a biking trip came in. They all wanted frappes and breakfast sandwiches.”

“Jesus.” Tooru smiled into the granite at the sound of the blenders getting rinsed out as well. “Well, here comes yer favorite. If that’ll help.”

It was a taunt. Tooru knew it was a taunt. But that didn’t stop from him shooting upright and dragging his fingers through his messy waves just as the door opened with a jingle. “Good morning, Iwa-chan!”

He looked dead on his feet, poor thing. Tooru would’ve felt bad about taking comfort in that, if Iwaizumi hadn’t still looked devastatingly gorgeous. Even with dark circles under his heavy-lidded eyes, he took Tooru’s breath away, all tan skin and strong muscles and messy hair that he wanted to run his fingers through and get even messier. His frown at Tooru’s nickname made him even hotter, all serious and brooding. “I told you not to call me that.”

“But it’s cute! Just like you!”

Those hazel eyes widened a bit at that, and his ears turned a sweet pink. “Can I at least have some caffeine before you start annoying me?”

“So mean, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said with a pout, already finishing up with putting in his order. “Want anything to eat? We got more egg white sandwiches in yesterday.”

Iwaizumi blinked. “Maybe later.”

“Oooh, are you sticking around today? Midterms already?” He only got a groan and an adjusted backpack in response. “Can I help with anything?”

“Want to write my kinesiology lab report?”

“I meant with coffee.”

Iwaizumi snorted, the corner of his lips ticking up just enough to make Tooru feel proud, before wordlessly handing over some cash. “You can keep the change,” he said, “for a tip.”

If he kept this up, Tooru was going to reach across the counter and pull him into a kiss.

Atsumu stayed suspiciously quiet the whole time, only piping up with a chipper, “Here ya go!” as he handed Iwaizumi his drink: a black coffee with a single pump of vanilla. He finally broke his silence once Iwaizumi got settled into his regular spot at the booth in the far corner. “I still don’t know why he, as a senior, is getting a coffee everyday when it’s such a simple drink.”

“Maybe he just wants to see me!” He grinned at Atsumu, waiting for him to roll his eyes and give him snark for his “misplaced confidence.”

But instead, the blonde just hummed noncommittally, still watching Iwaizumi as he blearily unpacked his laptop and notebooks. “...Tsumu-chan?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, maybe.”

Cool, so he definitely wasn’t listening. Tooru would forgive him, if only because he was now restocking the breakfast sandwiches. If Tooru had to handle a bagel within the next hour, he would be making sure the knife was sinking into anything but a bagel.

Shifts with Atsumu usually passed like this: bickering punctuated with silent acts of help. Tooru opened by himself, and Atsumu cleaned up the carnage when he clocked in. Atsumu prepared the sandwiches, and Tooru refreshed the food displays and wiped down the unoccupied tables.

And all the while, Iwaizumi worked in his corner, frowning at his laptop and shuffling through the growing piles of notes that migrated from his backpack. Sometimes he had his headphones on, especially when it was a busier day. Other times, like when there weren’t many other customers lingering, he was happy with nodding his head to the cafe music. Tooru wasn’t sure if it was just a happy coincidence that Iwaizumi usually nodded along with his playlists, but he’d take any wins he could.

“D’you need me to move?”

Tooru looked up from a stubborn stain on a table to see Iwaizumi looking at him. “Hm? Oh, no, that’s fine! Tsumu-chan can wipe down your table after you leave.”

Iwaizumi’s brow creased, but he just nodded and watched him silently for a moment, before muttering, “Do you ‘-chan’ for everyone, or just people you like annoying?”

Another glance up showed Tooru a tiny curve to Iwaizumi’s lips, which brought a gleeful smile to his own. “Nah, just people I like annoying. That means I actually like you!”

Did Iwaizumi always blush and frown like that whenever someone flirted with him? How did he get through the day like that? Surely a ton of people flirted with him, right? “Lucky me,” Iwaizumi mumbled, turning stolidly back to his laptop…only to look back up at Tooru. “Wait, how many hours have you been working today?”

“Awww, Iwa-chan, you’re worried about me?” Tooru snickered at the deepening frown he’d earned himself. “Don’t worry, I’ll be done in an hour.”

For some reason, instead of the relief he was expecting, Iwaizumi looked a little nervous. “Oh. Alright.” He slid his headphones on before Tooru could ask any questions. Weird.

Weirder still was the thoughtful expression on Atsumu’s face when Tooru returned behind the counter. “Tsumu-chan? Whatcha looking at?”

When Atsumu met his eyes, Tooru was startled to recognize a strange mix of glee, confusion, apprehension, and suspicious, all melting together in his warm eyes. “I’ll tell ya, but you have to promise you won’t freak out.”

“That is the best way to guarantee that I will freak out.”

“Then I’m not tellin’ ya.”

“Wha— why? Tell me!”

“No!”

“Bye.”

“Tsu— wait, Iwa—!” Too late. In the time that Tooru had finished cleaning up and gotten back behind the counter, Iwaizumi had packed up his things, thrown away his trash, and slipped out of the cafe. “You made me miss saying goodbye!” he whined at Atsumu. “Now you have to tell me!”

“Oh please, like ya won’t get another chance tomorrow,” Atsumu scoffed. He rolled his eyes, but he also finally let Tooru get his hands on the mysterious item.

It was…an envelope. An envelope with his name neatly written across it, correct characters and all. “...What?”

“Yep.” Atsumu popped the “p” with flair.

“Where did you find this?”

“By the granola bar basket. Open it, I wanna see what’s inside!”

Tooru glowered at Atsumu as his fingers moved to obey him, carefully tearing open the top of the envelope. Inside were some carefully pressed autumn leaves and a short note, written in the same neat writing on a small, blue piece of notebook paper.

For the best barista in town. I saw you collecting some leaves the other day. I don’t know what you need them for, but here are more for your collection.

“Wait.” Tooru flipped the paper over and saw only empty lines. “Wait. There’s no name!”

“Holy shit,” Atsumu breathed, his confusion giving way to delight, “you’ve got yerself a secret admirer! And he gave ya…leaves?”

“My secret admirer knows me better than my coworker,” Tooru sniffed as though his cheeks weren’t growing warm. “I’ll have you know I’ve been collecting some to decorate my apartment!”

“Okay…why does he know that?”

“He doesn’t, he says so in the note— hold on! How do you know they’re a ‘he’? They could be a girl! Guys don’t usually notice stuff like that.”

“Sure, usually. But for a crush? Absolutely. Besides…” Atsumu turned away to finish refilling the fridge. “Girls tend to be less shy about sentimental stuff like this. If they make you a present, they’ll give it to ya personally. Guys, though…they get embarrassed by any advances that aren’t just…askin’ ya out.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Don’t throw stones from a glass house, Tooru-kun~” Atsumu shot Tooru a blithe smile. “Now put that stuff away and get back to work.”

“So unromantic,” Tooru scoffed, “no wonder your boyfriend’s so scary.”

“I heard that!”

☙❧

Tooru knew, objectively, that he had it good. He was the shining star of the collegiate leagues, poised to receive multiple Division 1 offers once he graduated. As the starting setter of the university team, he could work towards any degree he wanted while resting assured that he would earn the career of his dreams. Every time Iwaizumi spent an entire day frowning at his laptop and nodding off over his notes, Tooru felt a burst of gratitude for his own circumstances.

Even the cafe wasn’t so bad. Sure, most days he had to bite his tongue so hard, he nearly tasted blood. But at least he didn’t hate his coworkers, and he had a finish line in sight: he would graduate in March, sign on to one of the teams that sent him offers, and leave behind this university and this cafe, never to be seen again. And until then, he had occasional presents from his secret admirer to look forward to—just the week before, he’d gotten pressed marigolds to add to his autumn decor, along with a sports energy drink powder packet to help him “stay upright when you’re overworking yourself.” But all the little perks and presents in the world couldn’t ease the horror of—

“Oh my god, Christmas is next week.”

Atsumu shot him a bemused look. “Yeah? I just told ya all about my plans with Omi. Weren’t ya listening?”

“It’s next week?” Tooru repeated, ignoring the question.

“Yer such a jerk! I was so excited, and you just ignored me?”

“Tsumu-chan.” Tooru pushed himself off the counter to take Atsumu by the shoulders. “I love you—”

“No, ya don’t!”

“—but if I have to listen to someone’s romantic plans with their romantic partners, I will be walking into the sea.”

An abashed wrinkle came to the corner of Atsumu’s eye, though that didn’t make him stop pouting. “We’re not close to the ocean.”

“How is that what you—”

“Morning.”

Tooru whirled towards the entrance (definitely not with a squeak, thank you very much), and felt the clouds around his head disperse at the sight of Iwaizumi. “Iwa-chan! Hello!” He had to fight to not skip to the register, ignoring Atsumu’s quiet scoff. “Is it still morning?”

With a small frown that made him look unbearably cute, Iwaizumi pulled out his phone and squinted at the time. “It’s not noon yet.”

“...You’re kidding.”

“Why would I kid about that?”

“I still have four hours here?”

“...Ah.” Tooru couldn’t believe what he was seeing: a small, sympathetic smile softening Iwaizumi’s weary features. “Did you open again?”

He didn’t often ask after Tooru, mostly because Tooru was more than happy to offer his own unsolicited updates. But he always remembered the smallest details, and when he did ask, his quiet concern always made Tooru’s chest feel warm. “Yeah,” he sighed, feeling the corner of his lips tick up despite himself, “but it’s alright. Seeing you makes it worth it.”

It really was worth it, especially to see Iwaizumi’s eyes widen and ears flush that sweet pink again. “...Can I have my coffee now?”

“Already on it!” Atsumu called.

Iwaizumi’s ears stayed pink as he paid and rounded the counter to the pick up area. The color only ebbed away when he accepted his drink from Atsumu, much to Tooru’s quiet satisfaction. “Here ya go!” Atsumu cheerfully announced.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, Iwa-kun?”

Iwaizumi stuttered to a halt and turned just enough to pin Atsumu under a small, confused frown. “Yeah?”

“I’m feelin’ nosy about our favorite regular.” His smile stayed blithe, even as Iwaizumi’s eyes flickered towards Tooru and his ears warmed again. “D’ya have any plans for Christmas yet?”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, I’m not asking for myself! Just curious, thas’all.”

“Oh…then…not really.”

“Aw, what a shame,” Atsumu hummed, with a smile that said quite the opposite.

“...I guess.” With a last quick glance at Tooru, Iwaizumi adjusted his backpack and made his way to his regular spot. When he was safely tucked into his seat and had his headphones settled over his ears, Tooru landed a backhanded smack to Atsumu’s arm.

“Ow, what the hell?”

“That’s my question!” Tooru hissed. “What the hell was that?”

“Oh please, don’t act like you weren’t wondering,” Atsumu scoffed, rolling his eyes even as he rubbed at his arm. “I did you a favor.”

“Being embarrassed by the world’s most obvious wingman is not a favor!” Never mind that a knot he hadn’t noticed in his stomach had loosened the moment Iwaizumi reluctantly admitted he didn’t have Christmas plans. No Christmas plans meant no partner meant Tooru could continue crushing on him guiltlessly, even if he still needed to scrape together the courage to actually…do anything about his crush. It wasn’t fair, how much harder it got to flirt the more he actually liked a person.

“Oh, quit moping.” Tooru squawked from under the hand ruffling his hair. “Just cuz ya don’t have plans doesn’t mean all hope is lost! You might get another gift from your secret admirer!”

“Shut up!”

Too late. Tooru didn’t miss the way Iwaizumi went still for a breath, eyes flickering towards the counter, before snapping back to his laptop.

“Nah, don’t worry. I still think it’s him.”

“Well, I don’t,” Tooru grumbled, letting the top of the coffee grinder drop with a dulled clang over new beans. “If Iwa-chan liked me, he would say something. He wouldn’t jump through all these hoops.”

“Fer chrissake.”

Tooru wasn’t sure why, out of everything about the strange secret admirer situation, Atsumu was so stubborn in his belief that Iwaizumi was the one behind the gifts. Iwaizumi didn’t do secret gifts and notes. He certainly didn’t do pressed leaves and flowers and sports energy drink powder packets.

Okay, maybe he did the last thing. But still. If he’d wanted to give them to Tooru, he would’ve just…handed them over. The sad thing was, as much as Tooru wanted to relish the feeling of having a secret admirer, any happiness he felt was tinged with a bitter disappointment that the gifts weren’t coming from Iwaizumi.

At least he could keep enjoying the view. Iwaizumi only stayed for a few hours—“Practice is earlier today.”—but in those few hours, he kept standing and stretching a bit before sitting back down to work some more. Something about not wanting to stay seated for too long because it’d be bad for his muscles. Tooru couldn’t quite recall the reason, but he could say that he was in full agreement. Anything to let him continue playing witness to the bulge of Iwaizumi’s bicep and deep sigh he let out as he stretched his shoulders.

“One more hour,” Tooru finally sighed, rolling his neck and shoulders during a brief lull in customers.

“Congratulations,” Atsumu muttered with a wry grin. “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’m going home and taking a nice nap before practice.” He noticed a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye and looked up in time to see Iwaizumi making his way to the bathroom.

“God, yer like a prairie dog.”

Tooru frowned at Atsumu. “I’m sorry, we can’t all have some weird enemies-to-lovers thing in high school. Some of us have to make do with sad little crushes.”

“You said it, not me.”

Tooru only dignified his coworker with a stuck-out tongue as he made his shift drink. If he were totally honest, he did feel a prick of jealousy for the way Atsumu had met his boyfriend: years in high school pining away, until they found out they would be attending the same university, playing on the same collegiate team. The thought of holding back his feelings on a daily basis, instead of at infrequent tournaments and training camps made Atsumu pop his secrecy like a balloon and blurt out his feelings. By some miracle, Sakusa had felt the same, and the rest was history.

Meanwhile, Tooru had spent high school thinking he was straight and dating his way through girls who didn’t understand his devotion to volleyball. He didn’t realize he was bisexual until college, which meant his lame gay puppy crush was happening just as he entered his 20s instead of his teens. And he hated it. He hated feeling like this, so easily flustered and pining and hoping something would change without actually doing anything to change things himself.

“Leavin’ already, Iwa-kun?”

Tooru’s head snapped up to see Iwaizumi frozen in the middle of sliding his laptop into his backpack. “Ah…yeah. Practice is soon.”

“Want a snack before ya go? Kawa here loves the peppermint brownie!”

“Tsumu, you snitch!” Tooru gasped, secretly preening under Iwaizumi’s soft scoff and softer grin. “Now he’s not going to think I’m a big serious volleyball player!”

“The occasional brownie won’t ruin your playing,” Iwaizumi reassured him in a flat voice. “But I shouldn’t, not right before practice. Maybe next time.”

“I’ll have a nice and warm one ready for you!” Tooru called after him as he left the cafe.

“Maybe yer right.” He turned to see Atsumu shaking his head at him. “Maybe it’s not him. With how obvious you are, he’d have no reason to feel nervous about askin’ ya out.”

Tooru didn’t have any comeback besides narrowed eyes and a muttered, “I’m going to restock the coffee and not think about the injustice of you having Christmas plans.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Tooru hauled the box of coffee bean bags to the cafe’s merchandise shelf and began refilling the lines of beans. Arabica, French Roast, Peppermint Hot Chocolate, Espresso—

Wait, what?

His eyes snapped back to the packet that they had just scanned over. Sure enough, it was a little white paper packet with green lettering, clearly taken from a larger box of hot chocolate. The lettering promised peppermint hot chocolate “with real peppermint crumbles!” And next to the packet was a now-familiar envelope, holding a now-familiar slip of blue notebook paper with now-familiar neat writing.

You really like candy canes. I don’t really see the appeal of mint, but my roommate swears by this hot chocolate around Christmas, so I asked if I could take a packet. Maybe this will become a favorite of yours, too.

“Tooru-kun? Why’d you stop?”

His head shot up, and he was mortified to realize that his eyes were stinging with the threat of grateful tears. “Nothing, just…found something.” The sound of a gasp made him grin as he hurried through the rest of the stock and returned behind the counter.

“Lemme see, lemme see!”

Tooru skirted Atsumu's grabby hands to present the note over his head. "Behold! A Christmas prese— hey!"

Atsumu reached up and plucked the note out of Tooru's hand to coo over it. "Awww he—

"They."

"—noticed yer favorite candy? And robbed his roommate for ya? That's so romantic!"

"...Robbery is romantic?"

"Sure! I stole Samu's shirts for my first coupla dates with Omi!"

"...Huh. Well, my admirer specifically said they asked their roommate, so…wait, that's not the point!" Tooru sputtered. “The point is that they’re observant and sweet about it, and they don’t expect any congratulations for it, they just want to spread a little happiness, and…”

His words faded as he stared at the note, noticing something for the first time: a slight smudge to the otherwise-neat letters, as though something had brushed the still-drying ink. It looked an awful lot like his admirer was left-handed.

Iwaizumi was left-handed.

No. No. He couldn’t let himself hope. Iwaizumi didn’t even know about how much he liked peppermint until today, thanks to Atsumu’s blatant wingmanning. No amount of wishful thinking and Atsumu’s conspiracies would make it any more likely for Iwaizumi to be the secret admirer.

That’s what he told himself, at least. If his mind still lingered over all the possible “what if”s, well…nobody’s perfect.

☙❧

Against all odds, Tooru made it past Christmas and New Year’s unscathed. It helped that he was forced to work less during that holiday week, though for once, he found himself wishing he could be back at the cafe when he was stuck at home. He loved spending the New Year with his family, but he couldn’t help wondering what, if any, presents his admirer might have left him.

Never mind the fact that the gifts had stopped while Iwaizumi was out of town. Correlation did not mean causation…or something like that.

He didn’t fully realize how much he’d come to look forward to the gifts until mid-January, when he arrived to work on a Saturday afternoon and was presented with a tiny gift bag dangling off of Atsumu’s finger. “Awwww, Atsu-chan! I didn’t get you anything.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “You know this isn’t from me.”

“Then who—? Oh!” Tooru snatched the bag off of Atsumu’s finger and peered inside. He found a red good luck charm and, sure enough, a slip of blue notebook paper.

Happy New Year. It’s a bit late, but I hope this can bring you some luck this year. Honestly, you won’t need it for V.League try-outs. You’ll be the best setter they’ve ever seen.

“Why’re ya crying? What’d the bastard say?!”

“These are happy tears, you idiot,” Tooru laughed, hastily wiping his tears away. “He…he knows I’ll be going to V.League try-outs this year. How does he know that?”

“I knew it! You said ‘he’! D’you admit that yer admirer’s Iwaizumi?”

Heat rushed to Tooru’s cheeks when he met Atsumu’s knowing, glinting eyes. “N-no! Not necessarily…”

“Right. And the fact that he came in this morning is just coincidence,” Atsumu said with a snort. “He looked mighty disappointed to find me here alone, by the way. Not that that has anything to do with anything.”

“Shut up!” Tooru shoved at Atsumu’s shoulder with a helpless laugh.

He would never admit it out loud, but Atsumu’s theory was proving to be more and more likely. The thought was thrilling and terrifying all at once. Here he was, so impossibly close to the two things he wanted most: a place on a Division One team, and Iwaizumi. At least the V.League was something he’d been working toward for most of his life.

Iwaizumi, though…he could only call upon luck and the other man’s feelings. Tooru was so close, the clues were lining up so well, that the thought of his guess being wrong made his stomach twist into knots. If his admirer wasn’t Iwaizumi, then this whole endeavor would become incredibly disappointing for both himself and whoever his admirer did turn out to be.

As the gifts continued, they began to show hints of the admirer: a favorite candy, the flavors of sports drinks that he avoided, a mention of his mother’s cooking.

Then, a week before Valentine’s Day, Tooru found a Vabo-chan keychain with a note tied to it like a carrier pigeon.

I don’t know if you have plans for Valentine’s Day. If you do, then I’m so sorry if these trinkets have made you uncomfortable at all.

If you don’t, and you would like to spend it with me, could you leave a note here with your answer? You can accept or reject me, but either way, I’d like to know. I don’t want any chocolates to go to waste.

Chocolates…chocolates on Valentine’s Day. Usually girls gave chocolates on Valentine’s Day. Was his guess wrong? Was his admirer in fact a young woman and not the young man he’d been yearning after for the past year?

He shook himself out of that spiral. Whoever his admirer turned out to be, he knew one things for certain: he wanted to meet them.

And so, with a piece of plain white lined paper torn out of his Spanish notebook, he followed the instructions and left a note in return, for the first time in the months that he’d been receiving gifts.

I’d love to~ I close on Valentine’s Day, but we’ll be closing a few hours earlier for the holiday. You come here often enough to leave all these presents, so…I’ll see you here?

Two days later, he found a slip of blue paper with five short words.

Yeah. I’ll see you then.

“Holy shit,” he whispered at the paper. “I have a valentine.”

☙❧

Valentine's Day found Tooru breaking one of his cardinal rules of fashion: he was wearing his favorite dark jeans to work, putting them at risk of coffee stains. But he also had a chance at breaking a years-long streak of being single on the holiday, so screw it. He deserved to break a rule.

"The second yer done with dishes, ya have to change out of your work shirt," Atsumu reminded him for the umpteenth time that shift.

"I know, Mom."

"Snark all ya want, it's not gonna be my fault if yer valentine sees ya in the orange monstrosity before ya even leave for yer date." Atsumu fell silent, eyes widening in horror. "Oh my god," he whispered, "I really do sound like my mom."

As nagging as his coworker was, Tooru immediately missed his distracting presence when he was left alone for the last hour of business. He nearly dropped the espresso cups at least three times while making orders in that hour, and as soon as he locked the doors and flicked off the cheery neon "Open" sign, he moved faster than ever before through the closing procedures.

Once the meeting time rolled around, Tooru had not only changed into his teal shirt and gray cardigan, but he'd also had the chance to fix his hair in the cafe bathroom.

All that preparation, and he still jolted at the sound of a light knock at the front door. He peeked out from the backroom at the glass door, his heart swelling with joy as soon as he made out the person outside.

There, looking like a dream in black slacks and a green button-down that brought out the olive tones in his eyes, stood Hajime Iwaizumi. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he fiddled with a small gift bag as he stared up at the sky. Tooru could tell he had tried and failed to tame his messy hair, the strands already springing out of the soft combover he'd attempted.

Happiness and anxiety unlike anything he'd felt before swirled in Tooru's stomach as he made his way through the store and flicked off the lights on his way to the door. Iwaizumi had looked at the door when the lights started switching off, giving Tooru the unique pleasure of gazing into those lovely eyes as he unlocked the door.

Iwaizumi backed away from the door to give Tooru space to open and lock it from outside, but they still stood just a breath away from each other when Tooru turned from the store.

"It's you," he whispered.

"Y-yeah," Iwaizumi admitted, sounding strangely hoarse. "Um…surprise? Oh, uh, here." He suddenly held the small gift bag between them.

Tooru wasn't surprised to see some peppermint-dusted chocolates inside, but pure joy and gratitude still made his eyes sting when he met Iwaizumi's gaze again. "They look wonderful," he said with a smile. "I didn't know you like to cook, Iwa-chan."

Like clockwork, the nickname made those tan cheeks turn a sweet pink. "I…I don't. I mean, I don't cook sweets, not really. So…sorry if those don't taste good."

"Still…thank you. For this and for…for everything else." The more Tooru thought about the series of little trinkets and gifts, the more he marveled at the idea of Iwaizumi so diligently taking note of his life and preferences. "You…you remembered so much about me."

"I…yeah." Iwaizumi grimaced, and Tooru couldn't imagine why, not until he asked, "That wasn't…creepy or anything, right?"

A soft laugh slipped out of Tooru before he could hold it back, but it was hard to feel guilty about it, not when it earned him an even deeper blush from his secret admirer. "I could answer that," he murmured, stepping in close and relishing the sight of those hazel eyes widening. "But I think I'd rather kiss you, instead."

A quiet "Oh" was all the warning he got before he was pulled into a slow, deep, swoon-worthy kiss. Iwaizumi kissed with intent, as though he wanted to make sure every brush of his lips would be seared into Tooru's memory. Tooru tried to give as good as he got, and he was rewarded with the sound of a low groan and Iwaizumi's hands falling to his hips to back him into the storefront.

Everything about him was intoxicating: the amber musk of his cologne, the note of chocolate on his tongue, the feeling of his hands trailing up to Tooru's waist, the sound of his soft noises and groans. Tooru wanted to catalog and file away every detail of this kiss that he'd thought he would never experience.

When they parted, Tooru felt drunk, a feeling he saw mirrored on Iwaizumi's face. "Woah."

"Woah," Tooru agreed, laughing. "You'd better get this date started, Iwa-chan, or I'll keep you here and kiss you all night."

"That's not the worst idea you've had," Iwaizumi grumbled. But he stepped away, letting their only contact be Tooru grabbing his hand.

"Hey, Iwa-chan," Tooru hummed as Iwaizumi led the way to the bus stop.

"What, Nosy-kawa?"

"Hey!" Tooru gasped, helpless to the laughter shaking out of him. He valiantly ignored the heat prickling through him at the sight of Iwaizumi's smirk.

"...Well?"

"Nothing, just…I am oh-so-happy it was you! I’ve been hoping you were my secret admirer since the first gift!"

Iwaizumi didn't say anything in response, and he didn't need to. The pink on his cheeks and the gentle squeeze of his fingers told Tooru everything he wanted to hear.

Their date had barely started, but Tooru already knew that this would be the best Valentine's Day he'd ever had.

[makkir0ll]

between you and your husband, you were the one more…vocal about your love for him. leaving him sweet notes with doodles of the two of you in his lunch, ending all heartfelt messages with x’s, planting a big kiss on his cheek that he pretended to cringe at but in reality he looked forward to it everytime he left the house.

people would always come up to you, telling you that he doesn’t reciprocate his love with words and such and asking you how you dealt with it. truth be told it took a while for you to get used to but soon enough you began to see the signs.

it was the way that every time he got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom he would tuck your feet back into bed. the way he spent a solid twenty minutes cleaning your phone screen, and with furrowed brows as he placed your new screen protector on, making sure there were no bubbles. it was when you opened his wallet that you saw all the notes you wrote him saved in one pocket of his shitty leather wallet that was begging to be put to rest. it's the way when you come home after a long night out with your friends he takes his time undressing you, removing and placing your jewelry carefully on your bedside table and making sure to gently take off your makeup and of course do your skincare routine that he has memeorized. when he goes out and he spots a little something with your favorite character on it he buys it immediately, not bothering to look at the price tag because the way your eyes would light up when he brought home the little gift was worth more than a billion dollars to him.

it was when on your third month anniversary when the two of you were still dating, while the two of you sat down on the booth next to each other at a restaurant he held your hand and squeezed it three times. signifying the words, i love you. he knew he loved you from the start but was scared it was too soon to say it and this was his silent way of telling you so. and you picked up on it quickly when he started to do it more often.

and on your wedding day, as the two of you stand in front of all your loved ones and the officiator he says the most beautiful vows ever, telling you that "if death do us part then i hope to find you in every lifetime" and once he ended with that sentence, he squeezed your hand three times. i. love. you.

you always knew your husband loved you because his actions spoke a thousand words to you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜

sigh. TSUKISHIMA FREAKING KEI!!!!!!!!, akaashi keiji (he writes notes back to you), KITA. SHINSUKE., iwaizumi hajime (30) athletic trainer, suna rintarou, USHIJIMA, kageyama tobio (squeezed your hand a lot when you started dating), MIYA OSAMU, sakusa kiyoomi, OH OH OH AONE!!,

[bonniepop]

"i hope you know i find you very attractive," atsumu slurs from the bar, head lolling as he spoke.

you sigh and pluck the shot glass from his hand and set it down on the bar. "yes, you've mentioned this several times." you look behind him and scowl. "seriously? you know he has a game tomorrow."

osamu shrugged. either he didn't drink as much as atsumu or he had an extremely high tolerance for hard drinks. "i didn't do nothin'. he was the one who kept playing drinking games."

"then why'd you play with him?!"

"i didn't. he just kept drinkin' by himself."

you sigh and turn back to the blond. "you're lucky you drank so much so fast. it's only eleven. you've got time to sleep this off."

"you're taking me home?" atsumu gasps, leaning so far forward you have to catch him and push him upright. "oh my god! what will the media say when they see us?!"

your face crumples in incredulity bordering on disgust. "uhh, that we're engaged? wait, how much did you drink?"

"we're engaged?!" atsumu says, placing his palms to his cheeks. he pulls away one hand gasps at the ring sitting on his finger before turning to you and holding your face in his hands. "we're engaged. our combined hotness level is through the roof."

"o-kay," you say, having quite enough of this. you push his hands away and tug at his wrist. "get up. we're leaving and getting you sober."

"i'm not drunk!" he says stubbornly, even though he nearly tripped just trying to stand up. once he's upright, though, he looks you up and down and grins so wide you're concerned he might tear his face apart.

"what?"

he giggles. "my fiancée is so hot."

that makes your lips twitch. "whatever. let's go home."

he gasps again. "we live together?!"

[renardiererin]

rintarou suna with his intensely green eyes who likes to stare into your soul until he’s got you squirming and breathing heavy, and then he’ll smile slowly and say, “yeah? you must just love me sooo much if i’ve got you all riled up from an innocent little staring contest, baby,” knowing damn well it wasn’t innocent.

rintarou suna who will have you folded with your legs over his shoulders and your back arching off the bed as he mercilessly pounds into your tiny little hole, toying with your clit and pinching and pulling at the fat of your thighs & breasts. he’ll have you crying and whining out his name as you reach your arms up for a handful of his hair to grab onto as he angles his hips just enough to get his leaky tip slamming against your gummy spots. “you’re always so wet in this position, darlin’, i’m startin’ to think my eyes turn you on.”

[kemistre]

εïз┊𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 — feat. bokuto kotarou, miya atsumu, iwaizumi hajime, sakusa kiyoomi, suna rintarou

synopsis. seeing your other half shirtless is a normal part of a relationship, but how do they react when it’s your first time seeing him without his shirt on?

— content warnings. suggestive, shirtless 2D men, pet names (baby, darling, angel, pretty baby), kiyoomi is shirtless & pantless ;) — word count. 890

εïз┊author's note. posting this gem again for funsies and i literally cannot stop thinking about every single one of these men :3

εïз┊b. kotarou

he couldn’t help but text you as he opened the door to his apartment. after sakusa’s spike to his stomach, he needed to tell you not only how cool it was, but how much it hurt. it wasn’t long after his last text that you were at his doorstep, gladly being invited in by his voice echoing throughout the small apartment. “ko?” “baby!” he popped out from the doorway of the bathroom, a giant smile on his lips. his legs moved on their own as he approached you, his instinct to kiss you upon seeing your beautiful face. he cupped your cheeks, his lips grazing over your own before he pulled back, your cheeks hotter than they usually are. his head tilted in confusion as he stood there half-clothed, his chest—his abs—put on display just for you. “baby? are you still in there..?” he knocked lightly on your head, completely clueless of the effect he had on you.

εïз┊ m. atsumu 

a sigh fell from his lips as he threw his jersey to the side, practice had been tough on him recently. though, he couldn’t figure out why that was. he was just so stiff, and his sets were lacking, it had stressed him out. of course you knew that, he couldn’t not tell you what was going through his mind. he huffed as stretch his back, putting his arms above his head. his eyes found the mirror above his dresser, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he looked at the body he’d made for himself. “h-hey ‘tsumu, i brought food..” his attention was now on you who stood in the doorway of his bedroom with food in hand, it was evident by your face you were flustered, and he knew why. he smiled, stepping towards you with dark eyes. “well thanks angel.” he took the food from your hands, quickly giving you a kiss on the cheek. he smirked, his lips grazed your own before he let out a breathy chuckle. “like what ya see? first time if i remember correctly.”

εïз┊ i. hajime

he let the water slide down his throat, quickly wiping the sweat from his forehead after his morning run. he sighed, setting the bottle onto the kitchen counter as he pulled his tank top over his head before throwing it over his shoulder. you said you were going to stop by earlier in the morning, though he figured he’d have time to shower, make the two of you lunch, and be able to hang out the rest of his day off. thoughts of what to make you filled his head as he opened the fridge. “you look a little sweaty, haji.” you giggled, making him turn to you as you eyed him. he grew flustered at your sudden appearance. “i thought you were coming over later..” “i told you i was on my way.” now that you mentioned it, he did feel his phone buzz in his pocket, though he never got around to checking it. after that moment, after your little smirks towards him the rest of the night there was no way he was going to live down your teasing. he just hoped you wouldn’t tell oikawa.

εïз┊s. kiyoomi

his wet hair dripped water onto the bathroom floor, his reflection staring back at him in the mirror. his curly hair covered his face, his towel loosely wrapped around his waist as water droplets slid down his chest. the steam from the hot shower dispersing through the crack in the bathroom door. with a little shake of his head, he pushed himself up from his hunched over position at the sink, and pulled open the door, the cold air hitting him suddenly. goosebumps appeared on his skin as he threw his towel over his hair, hoping to not get the floors of his bedroom soaked. he paused as he looked through his drawers, hearing a small creak of the floorboards. his eyes flickered towards his door, where — to his shock — you stood. “darling? what-” “sorry omi!” you yelled, your voice cracking as you slammed the door. he flinched at the loud noise, you reaction confusing him until he realized where his towel wasn’t. he slammed his head against the edge of his dresser, his face turning bright pink as his eyes grew wide.

εïз┊s. rintarou

he laid on his bed, spread out on his back as a hand was set gently on his bare stomach, another holding his phone as he scrolled through tiktoks, trying to waste the time away so you’d get there sooner. and it worked, you finally strolling your way through the doorway. his eyes flickered towards you for a moment, then back to his phone as he scrolled to the next video. “what are you watching, rin?” he let out a small hum, glancing up at you from where he laid. your face grew hot, this being the first time you’d seen your boyfriend without a shirt on. a smirk made its way to his lips, he knew, and you knew he knew your body was heating up. he dropped his phone next to his head, quickly pulling you onto the bed with him, making you fall onto of him as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of you neck. “y’know you like seeing me half naked, pretty baby.”

taglist :: there's none at the moment but just send me a message to my inbox if you wanna be tagged :3

[utahimeow]

“kenma?”

“hmm?”

he doesn’t take his eyes off the tv screen where he shoots at enemies left and right, but his ears are all yours.

“who was your first kiss?”

it’s become a habit of yours to watch his fingers move on the controller, long and thin and dexterous, wondering how he manages to move them in such a swift manner that to you seems impossible.

“didn’t have one,” he says, blunt.

“ever?”

“ever.”

“how?” you ask, both surprised and not—though now that you think about it, through all the years you’ve known him, he probably would have told you if he had.

“all i did in middle and high school was play volleyball and game. didn’t have time to kiss anyone. also didn’t care about it,” he admits.

you suppose if he wasn’t with you or kuroo, he was at home, playing video games. but there was that little obsession of his with shoyo hinata… so you guess it wasn’t a crush after all.

there’s only an ounce of hesitation behind what you say next, because yes, kenma’s your best friend and this could change the trajectory of your entire relationship with him, but also it’s kenma. kenma who you’ve shared a bed and clothes with, kenma who’s seen you at rock bottom and who’s wiped your snot and tears away when you were at your lowest, kenma who you’re attached at the hip with.

“what if i was your first kiss?”

kenma doesn’t falter at your words, not even for a second as he plays on expertly, nonchalant as always.

“uhh, why?” he asks, and you’re triumphant. if it was a ‘ew, no, what the fuck?’ then that’s how you’d know you fucked up. but it’s not.

“it kinda makes sense for me to be your first. also, i just wanna know what it’s like to kiss you,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders.

the next few moments are full of nothing but controller sounds and the music from the video game on the tv. in the faint glow that radiates from the screen, you make out a tiny dusting of pink on kenma’s pale cheeks.

eventually he gulps. then, “can we drink first?”

your mouth falls open with an insulted gasp and you have half a mind to smack him over the head.

“if you think i’m ugly you can say that, kozume,” you pout, crossing your arms.

“it’s not because i think you’re ugly, dumbass.”

“then why do you need to be drunk to kiss me?!”

kenma is silent again. he doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re staring at him utterly indignantly.

“because i’m too scared to look you in the eyes right now.”

oh.

now you get it.

kenma kozume is such a virgin. and you want him so incredibly badly. in fact you have to restrain yourself from jumping into his lap and kissing him until he can’t think straight.

instead you slide off the couch and head towards his fridge, grab two bottles of asahi and the bottle opener from the utensil drawer before padding back over to the couch, sitting an inch or two closer to kenma than you were before.

you click one bottle open for him, then one for yourself, then without a hint of hesitation you take a confident swig until you’re near chugging the drink.

“chill,” kenma says, side-eyeing you after taking a swig from his own bottle. “don’t want you pulling a himeno on me.”

you let out a noise that’s half-scoff and half-laugh, smacking at his arm. “don’t joke about that. that scene was traumatic.”

two bottles of beer later, kenma’s in-game reflexes start to waver. he’s no longer as sharp as usual, though his tipsy state still trumps the skills of an average player. meanwhile, your head floats with the buzz of alcohol—well, it hovers.

“kenmaaa,” you whine, shaking his arm, when all of a sudden his character is shot to death and the screen pauses as if to deliberately rub his defeat in his face. you stifle a giggle while he runs his hands over his face, though you’re pretty sure it’s not because he lost.

“what?” he asks, but he fails at conveying any real irritation towards you. his voice is small, frail almost.

“i wanna kiss you,” you say. your fingers still cling to the fabric of his hoodie sleeve. kenma’s entire body burns from it. he’s so fucked.

“okay, fine,” he says, turning his body to finally face you and criss-crossing his legs on the couch. “this feels awkward though, how are we-”

and you’ve waited long enough for this, and the alcohol that buzzes through your system makes you throw all your morals out the window, and you’re grabbing him by fistfuls of his hoodie and dragging him towards you until your lips smash—literally—together, and finally he shuts up.

you’re not sure what overcomes you, but you’re kissing him like you’re hungry, not quite ravaging him, but years of yearning deep inside of you bubbles to the surface and fills you with desperation.

also, you’re tipsy.

it’s not long before you come back to your senses a little and remind yourself that this is just his first kiss. go easy on him, maybe?

you move away, slowly, as though trying not to startle him, to find a pair of golden feline eyes blinking back at you. they’re swimming with something unintelligible, something akin to… need? you think you must be seeing things. you’re tipsy, after all.

the silence that hangs over the pair of you is heavy—too heavy. it hurts your shoulders. you laugh so that it goes away, covering your face as though kenma’s timidness was contagious and has now spread to you.

eventually, when you peer back up at him, he’s grinning almost… triumphantly. despite the blush that covers his entire face, he looks victorious. his face replaces any words he could say, and he turns back to his game without a word.

you, however, struggle to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“can we do that more often?” you ask, leaning your frame against his, nuzzling your face into his warmth.

“yeah, we can.”

[chariaki]

Your love struck boyfriend Kenma.

Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who builds a whole 5-star resort for you in minecraft. And its only for you.

Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma crushed on you so hard in highschool and even up until now, a simple caress from your hands makes him bricked up. That man easily folds when you make eye contact with him.

Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who likes to sleep with his arm underneath your shirt, hugging your waist from behind, and occasionally always fondling your boobs. He's got his leg on top of your leg, chest pressed againts your back, hand under your shirt playing with your breasts, and his lips kissing your neck to your shoulders.

Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who enjoys you straddling him on his lap when he plays his games in his living room. He'd have his arms hugging your back, your head in the crook of his neck while he tries to quietly play because he knows you drifted off to sleep.

Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who ends his livestreams amd game sessions earlier now that he's finally got you to be his. He's just happy and excited to be with you, all comfy in his apartment, under his bedsheets.

Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who always leaves social parties with the excuse of "Sorry, I gotta go home to my girlfriend." and when they ask why, he just says:

"'Cause I wanna be with my girl."

Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who manhandles your body for your butt to sit on his lap, just 'cause he's feeling extra clingy. He rests his chin on your shoulder and hugs your from behind, his hands holding the console rests on your lap.

Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who doesn't like to admit that he likes loves it when you grind on him. But you know he does, because he doesn't remove you from his lap. Instead, the poor man just grunts and whines, helplessly complaining about how he can't focus on his game, but he still holds you down so tight so you can't stand up.

Boyfriend!Kozume Kenma who's both a top and a bottom.

[shouyuus]

─── ハイキュー!! INSATIABLE

kenma, tsukki, kageyama, hinata; 2,472 words; smut and fluff, porn w/out plot, oral (fem!receiving), oral (male!recieving), throatfucking, multiple orgasms, tipsy!sex, fingerfucking, cumming inside, cowgirl, morning sex, almost cockwarming, needy!kenma, meanie!tsukki, wine drunk!tobio, and truly insatiable!hinata

summary: they always want more, more, more.

a/n: rmbr when i used to write mostly fluff and plot? yeah. me too. this, sadly, is not one of those instances. i guess in the spirit of kinktober... hooray?

─── 研磨 KENMA

it is never enough — even though at first glance, you wouldn’t think of kenma as the kind of person to be so needy. but something about you sets him off — something about the way you fist your fingers in his hair, or the way your voice always hitches over the syllables of his name —

“ken — ma — ah - hah…”

“mm? wh-what is it?”

he licks his lips, reveling in the tang of your juices currently coating his tongue, his darkened eyes flickering over the length of your body; there’s sweat beading at his temples, but years of being in sports has desensitized him ever so slightly to the sticky discomfort. and plus, this is exactly the kind of strenuous activity he doesn’t mind participating in once in a while.

you squeeze your eyes shut, the strain in the backs of your thighs burning as he casually presses you knees back and back and back, dipping down to lick at your sopping cunt.

"ken - ma — ngh!” you ruck up against his mouth, only for him to grin and pull back, wiping a hand along his lips to gather the slick.

“think you can come again for me?”

you whine, peering up at him through damp lashes, your body still buzzing with the remnants of the last two (or was it three?) orgasms he’d pulled out of you just with his fingers and mouth. your mind fizzles white at the edges, your thoughts disjointed and static.

“wanna — want your cock kenma —”

“mm,” he hums, pressing a soft, placating kiss to your knee as he runs an absent thumb over your clit just to watch your hips jump, “i know but… i like watching you cum like this. so…” he drops another kiss at on your inner thigh before dipping back down to lap softly at your puffy folds, “gimme one more and i’ll give you whatever you want, yeah?”

─── 月島 TSUKKI

so everyone knows he’s just a bit childish, just a bit petty, just a bit vindictive. so everyone knows he likes getting his way, and is a bit too stubborn.

so, when you swallow over the length of his cock as he bullies it down your throat, a hand fisted in your hair, his gaze almost cool as he watches you struggle to keep him in your mouth, you can’t say you didn’t kind of ask for it — mouthing off the way you did, pushing all his buttons from the second he’d gotten home till he’d dragged you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom and told you to get on your goddamn knees.

you’d dropped like a good little girl, a thrill tingling up your spine, because isn’t this what you’d wanted? missing him all day, a delicious, delirious heat curling at the base of your tummy, itching for the way he’d fuck you till your vision blurs.

“c’mon, i know you can open wider than that,” tsukishima runs an appraising thumb along the curve of your cheek, thrusting his hips forward even as you struggle to catch a breath. he thumbs at a tear, a smirk twisting the edge of his lips, a sadistic glint flashing behind his bespectacled eyes.

“there we go — that’s it — nngh — shit —”

you revel in the way his hips stutter, in the sting of pain that comes from his fingers fisting your hair too tight. you brace yourself and lave your tongue along the underside of his twitching cock, feeling the veins pulse angrily beneath your touch. he hisses above you, color pluming in his cheeks as he resorts to taking you by the back of the head and fucking your throat proper.

you hum around him as he jerks into your mouth, your own cunt clenching around nothing, the material of your panties sticking uncomfortably to your skin as you shift your thighs. above you, tsukishima narrows his eyes and tuts.

“quit that.”

you whine, going still even as he continues to fuck your throat, his breath going shallow, the faintest fog tinting up his glasses before he shoves you down on his cock and you feel him pulse over your tongue for a second before he yanks back and lets the white ropes of cum splatter across your face. you squawk slightly, licking at your lips before pouting up at him.

“you got cum in my hair!”

tsukishima only scoffs, wiping a bit from your cheek to press a finger into your mouth. you shoot him a half-hearted glare before sucking the digit clean, your nipples now straining against the materials of your shirt, feeling rubbed raw with sensitivity. there’s a damp patch on your panties and you tug at his hips eagerly before he swats you away.

“oh now you wanna be nice?” he asks, squinting down at you as he jerks your chin between two fingers.

you purse your lips, “i just missed you, okay?”

tsukishima scoffs, but he doesn’t deny you as you push him back onto the mattress and straddle his thighs.

“fine then, show me how much. and i might let you cum tonight.”

you pause halfway through kicking off your panties. he chuckles, laying back, propping both hands behind his head, his long, lanky form stretched out like a five course meal over the material of your sheets.

“you’re being mean,” you say, finally ridding yourself of your panties to crawl over his body, settling yourself over his hardening cock one more.

“you started it,” he hisses, even as his palms land on your hips, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass to shift you along his length, your lips falling open at the friction.

“s-so if i ask nicely enough…” you say, circling your hips if only to hear him gasp, “will you finish it?”

─── 飛雄 TOBIO

you should’ve known, you should’ve known what you were getting yourself into when you’d decided to send him a cute little mirror-selfie, dressed in nothing but one of his huge t-shirts, the hem hiked up just enough to let him see that you’re wearing nothing underneath, your nipples tenting the fabric in the wane light, your face half-covered by the phone — you should’ve known.

“m-mm—fuck —!” your heels kick uselessly against the bedsheets as tobio holds you to his mouth, his eyes sharp and dark and focused, his fingers holding your thighs open, his grip pressing divots into your skin as he sinks his tongue into your greedy cunt, sucking on your clit with a loud, gratuitous moan. there’s a flush working up his cheeks, and a glassy, glazed-out look to his eyes, amplified by the half-finished bottle of chianti sitting on the bedside table.

“one more —” he pants out, his breath hot against your twitching clit, your thighs straining against his hold as you whine, glancing down to find him running his tongue over his lips, his chin glazed with your sweet slick, bangs stuck to his forehead as he presses his cheek to your leg and smiles up at you.

“jus’ gimme one more, i know you can do it —” he drags his mouth along your skin before lowering his mouth back to your puffy lips, sinking his tongue into you far enough to make you scream. pleasure frissons up your body, making your toes and fingertips tingle — you can’t help but whine at the fact that he hasn’t even put his cock into you yet tonight but you can’t find it in yourself to complain. he’s made you cum more times than you can count, and still he’s relentless.

once, you’d asked him, jokingly, if he kept a sex journal — like his volleyball journal — where he meticulously tracks his progress, successful sets vs. unsuccessful ones, wins and losses, game strategies and various attack and defense formations. he’d cocked his head, his mouth half-full of a flatbread, that yes — he does. and did you want to see?

“i — i thought i’d just… keep track because…” he swallows his mouthful of food and looks anywhere but at you, “i want to make sure ‘m always making you feel good.”

and right here, right now, you can’t find it in yourself to do anything but fist your fingers in his hair and moan his name into the humid summer air as he works you towards yet another climax with nothing but his mouth and tongue.

“t-tobio — fuck-fuck — fuck — !”

he moans against you, grazing his teeth along your swollen clit just hard enough to push you over the edge, and when you cum around his tongue again, he pulls back with a savage, blissed-out grin, licking his lips even as he cages your body below his, trailing delicate fingers along your sides till he’s cupping your cheek.

“so pretty…” he mumbles, more to himself than anyone else, his gaze flickering over your face, down the length of your now sweat-slicked body, your knees falling open for him, your stomach rising and falling with the weight of your uneven breaths.

“tobio — tobio — n-no more teasing — please —”

he grunts, puffing out a laugh against your lips as he leans down to kiss you, sucking your tongue into his mouth as he nudges your legs apart with his knees.

“look so good like this… gonna fuck you now, yeah?” he asks, reaching down between your bodies to tease at your entrance with his cock, groaning as you whimper and ruck up against him, sensitive from the overstimulation. you make an abortive noise as he pushes into you, your knees jumping slightly as your abused hole flutters around the intrusion, his cock stretching you out the way his fingers and tongue hadn’t before.

“s-slow — tobio —” you tug weakly at his arms, your mind a hazy mess of pleasure and pain and the feeling of tobio’s lips trailing along your neck.

“nnph… sure… we’ll go slow… but we’re not done till i say we are.”

─── 翔陽 SHOUYOU

too much — it’s like he doesn’t know the meaning of the word. or, maybe he’s nothing’s ever too much when it comes to you, because like this, with you trembling above him, your thighs shaking on either sides of his hips, your hands braced against his chest, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough, let alone too much.

“mm — so — so good —” he soothes, panting slightly as he digs his heels into the mattress and fucks up into you, bouncing you over his lap, licking his lips at the way your mouth falls open, “so cute — fuck — s-so wet —”

he bites back another groan as you clench down around him, head falling forward as he shifts beneath you, reaching up to tug you down, catching you in his chest as he chuckles by your ear.

“a-ah… tired?” he asks, his pace never once faltering even as he strokes your hair, his thumb kneading at the nape of your neck as he presses a soft kiss into your shoulder. he feels your thighs clench as he adjusts his angle and your whole body tenses.

“sh-shou — mmngh —”

“f-fuck — so tight —” he grunts slightly as he twists his whole body to swap your positions, lying you gently on your back so he can hoist your knees up and fuck into you proper, letting out a pitched whine, when he feels you fluttering around him, the unmistakable signs of yet another orgasm coursing through you. he fucks you through it, leaning down to mouth at your tits, the nipples hard and raw from his fingers just minutes before.

he’d woken up with a prickling want twisting his gut and he knew nothing but an entire morning in bed with you would sate it. outside, the brilliant brazilian sun is already slating into the hotel room from the wide, drop-floor windows, and he considers — briefly — that later, the pair of you might go for a dip in the ocean, just to cool off. he grins at the thought, pushing your legs up till he’s got you folded in half.

“c’mon — c-cum for me again —” he coaxes, rucking down into you till your eyes roll back, fucking into you so deep you can nearly feel it in the back of your throat, the white, pin-prick flashes of pleasure popping behind your eyes as he hooks your knees over his arms to hoist your entire lower half off the mattress.

“c-can’t — can’t shouyou — ‘s t-too much —!” you’re almost babbling, tears caught in your lashes as you try to look up at him, but you can’t help squeezing your eyes shut every time he teases his cock against your g-spot, pulls back slow just to fuck back in fast, make you feel each ridge and bump and vein as he rocks down into you.

“mm… i know, i know…” he coos, biting his own lips with a rough pant, “but… you look so good cumming on my cock — i just — wanna — wanna see it again — hm?” he leans down to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth, sounding at once somehow whiney and demanding both, “just — just one more —” he says, nosing along your jaw to suck a hickey into the junction of your throat.

you arch up into him, fingers scrabbling at his back as he starts to pick up the pace, whimpering as another orgasm rockets through you, leaving you squirming beneath him as he chases after his own orgasm, groaning as he watches you fall apart for him, his cock twitching inside you before he’s dropping his head into your shoulder with a hard shudder.

“mm… good morning, yeah?” he asks, even as he pulls back and you pout up at him, swatting weakly at his arm.

“d-don’t move so fast — m’still sensitive…” you make to cover your eyes with your arm but he tugs it away, leaning down to kiss you.

“i like you sensitive,” he murmurs, shifting to keep his cock pressed inside you, chasing shivers through your limbs at the friction.

“don’t be mean…” you say, letting yourself be pulled into his chest even as he laughs softly.

“sorry waking you up so early in the morning — will breakfast in bed make up for it? i think the room service at this hotel’s pretty good!”

you peer up at him with a tiny grin, “yeah?”

shouyou smirks, cocking his head, “mhm! i mean… you’ll need more energy for our second round later, right?”

taglist: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @stunies @phroggii @fennecnco @yogurtkags -- join the taglist

[sun4r1nnity]

"samu,"

osamu rolls his eyes the moment you call out his name, while a grin spreads across your face as you throw yourself on the couch next to him. he knows your intentions and what you're about to say, because you've been pestering him about it for days. that damn dyson hair dryer.

osamu didnt think that he'd be one of the victims of what people call the equivalent of ps5 to women. hell, the social media really has a bad influence on his wife. last time something like this happened is when the internet going crazy about those stanley cups, and it rubbed off on you too unfortunately. "sooo... i've been thinking..." you say, trailing off as you trace circles on osamu's chest. "thinkin' about what, exactly?" he inquires, already aware of the unspoken conclusion in your words.

"you know, maybe... if we should get a hair dryer. i mean, wouldnt our life be better with it? like, its a beneficial stuff," you say, avoiding eye contact with osamu, making him chuckles at your act. "enlighten me," he prompts, with a smirk on his face as he leans back on the couch and rests his head on his hands. he felt amused seeing that stupidly cute pout on your face as he waits for you to whine about that hair dryer you've been wanting.

unbeknownst to you, osamu would buy you the whole world if he can. he'd get you anything you wanted, because he gets to see you happy and show his love to you by spoiling you. so, it quite goes unnoticed when a notification pops up on his phone screen, informing that the dyson hair dryer he ordered few days ago will be delivered today.

[iiwaijime]

MY WIFE !! — A. MIYA

SAKUSA VER. || USHIJIMA VER.

IWAIZUMI VER. || AKAASHI VER.

cw; fem reader, swearing, cute cute fluff, pet names ewww, not proofread

wc; 476

in which he calls you his wife.

you're still half asleep when atsumu climbs into bed, kicking the blanket away to nestle into your side. shit. you'd been planning to watch his latest interview live, but apparently you'd failed to stay awake until then. he slides one hand under your loose shirt — his shirt, come to think of it — to hold your waist, and the other comes up to cradle your face. "missed ya, sweets."

"hey," you murmur, letting him angle your head and sponge kisses all over your face. your phone buzzes, but you ignore it in favour of your boyfriend and his addictive attention.

he kisses you again, this time with a smile. "hey, angel."

"sorry, didn't get to watch the interview." one of your hands tangles into his hair as he presses his lips to yours, brief and gentle, before pulling back.

"good, don't then."

you open your eyes. "baby, what?"

"nothing, nothing. just... don't."

your phone vibrates again insistently, and then it clicks. "'tsumu, what'd you do?"

you're reaching over to your phone before he can stop you, unlocking it only to be greeted by at least four hundred notifications from friends, family, and even some people you don't know.

Y/N, YOU'RE MARRIED? [your best friend]

WHYD TSUMU CALL YOU HIS WIFE ON LIVE TV [osamu]

DID I MISS A WEDDING I DIDN'T RIGHT [hinata]

you turn to him. "and what do you have to say about all this?"

despite your calm demeanour, your heart is trying to claw its way out of your chest, and your plans are sweating more than they ever have before. you look down at atsumu, who now has his arms around your middle and his head on your chest. he pouts at you, best puppy eyes equipped. "lemme explain! it was a mistake, cus i was so excited to propose t'ya that i forgot we weren't married! so—"

a strangled little gasp escapes from your throat. the two of you have talked about this before, but you didn't expect that he'd even think of asking this fast. yes, yes, yes, your heart sings. that's when you notice the scandalised expression on atsumu's face as he bolts upright.

"shit, you weren't supposed to hear that," he says. "i'm sorry, i really—"

you cut him off with a kiss, noticing the way he relaxes visibly as it progresses, and when you finally pull away, he blinks at you with a dopey grin — all of the tension from before has disappeared.

"atsumu."

"yeah?"

"i don't care how or when you propose to me, i'll always say yes."

"shit, babe," he sniffles. "don't say that!"

"i'm not joking," you tell him gently. it's a hint, a yes if he wants to take it. "really."

"then will you?"

"will i what?"

"you know."

"oh my god, ask me properly the second time, at least!"

so he does.

a multi part fic series!! taglist is open. updates will be slow!! uhhh comment who u wanna see in the series and i might juuuust yk!! i hate atsumu he plagues my brain ew

tags!! @smiithys

[pearlsephoni]

Kagehina Celebration Week 2022, Day 4: Size Difference

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: G

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Kagehina (Kageyama/Hinata)

Characters: Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama

Word Count: 1,606

Summary: Kageyama's clinginess is one of the great joys in Shoyo's life...until it leads him to a Definitely Terrible(tm) realization.

A/N: Author’s notes can be read on AO3.

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that if Kageyama is visiting Shoyo, neither of them are getting any alone time.

Not that Shoyo minded. In fact, it’s what he most looked forward to. Playing on teams across the world from each other meant that any time they had together was spent together. They got plenty of space from each other at any other time.

Still, even after a couple years of long-distance, Shoyo couldn’t help feeling both amused and touched by how clingy Kageyama could be. Every morning, he woke up with an arm heavy on his waist and breaths either ruffling his hair or tickling his throat. Every meal was punctuated with a kiss. And if Shoyo was sitting down, he was on Kageyama’s lap, settled between his legs, or holding him between his own legs.

But Kageyama’s favorite way of clinging to Shoyo was back hugs. If they were making dinner or doing chores together, he would be satisfied with a steadying hand on his waist or a brush across his shoulders as he scooted past him. But if Shoyo was standing at any counter and doing something, whether he was brushing his teeth or washing the dishes or chopping up vegetables, Kageyama was behind him, pressing chest to back and wrapping his arms tight and warm around his waist.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Shoyo laughed one morning, a warm weight at his back making him pause in making some tea.

Kageyama’s grunt of response was muffled in his shoulder.

“What tea do you want today?”

“Mmph.” It took another beat for Kageyama to lift his head and let his chin rest on Shoyo’s shoulder instead. “I need caffeine.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Kageyama always liked to rest his head on Shoyo’s shoulder when he held him from behind, even though Shoyo couldn’t imagine bending down that much was comfortable. Not that he minded. He liked being able to just turn his head and press kisses to Kageyama’s temple. “Why’re you up so early?” he murmured into dark hair.

“Couldn’t sleep when you got up. Why’re you up?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.” Kageyama straightened up, and Shoyo could feel his questioning gaze, but he didn’t elaborate, and for once, Kageyama didn’t pry. “Wanna make some breakfast?”

“Hm…later.”

“Lazy.”

“Shut it.”

Shoyo snickered as he plucked the electric kettle from its stand and poured boiled water over the black tea bags in their mugs: they were fruit-themed, with oranges and orange slices adorning the rim of Shoyo’s mug, and blueberries lining the bottom of Kageyama’s. They had been gag Christmas presents from Natsu, but Kageyama had genuinely been delighted by them, much to Shoyo’s exasperation. Natsu was fully capable of enough mischief without Kageyama indulging her, though on the other hand, maybe he should be grateful her shenanigans only extended to silly mugs. So far.

“Pass me the milk?”

Kageyama let out a huff that was unnervingly horse-like, before he slowly pulled away from Shoyo to pad over to the fridge. As soon as he set the milk carton on the counter next to the mugs, his arms were snug around Shoyo’s waist again, but this time, he didn’t burrow into his shoulder. No, this time, he carefully rested his chin on top of Shoyo’s head.

The feeling of that firm chin sinking into his ginger mop made Shoyo still. “Tobi?”

“Hm?”

“What’re you doing?”

“…Holding you?”

“No, I mean, where are you putting your head?”

He felt Kageyama go still. “Um.”

Mild horror began creeping through Shoyo as he carefully pushed the mugs to the side and turned to face Kageyama. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, but now, all he could do was stare in dismay at Kageyama’s collarbones, which fell right at his eyeline.

Meaning his head did, in fact, fit perfectly under Kageyama’s chin. “…No way.”

“What?”

“No way!” Shoyo glared up at Kageyama, who stared back in sleepy confusion. “How do I fit under your chin again?! I’ve grown a ton since high school!”

“You grew a handful of centimeters, and I did, too.”

“Still!” He wasn’t proud of the whine in his voice, but he had more important things to worry about just then. “I thought our height difference was smaller now!”

“Guess not.”

The sight of that smirk sent annoyance and desire shuddering down Shoyo’s spine. Before he could question his own wisdom, he was bracing his hands on the counter and lifting himself to sit on the edge, forcing Kageyama to lean back to avoid getting his nose jammed. “The hell are you doing?”

“Trying to get taller than you!”

Shoyo’s lips were already curving into a frown when his maneuver ended up just bringing him to eye level with Kageyama…who unfortunately noticed his underwhelming discovery. “Uh-huh. And how’s that going for you?”

“Shut up!” Shoyo snapped. “You’re so mean, Yama. Meanie-yama.”

“Really? First time you’re calling me that since high school, and it’s over this?”

“You wouldn’t get it.” Despite his own annoyance, Shoyo didn’t neglect adding milk to Kageyama’s mug before handing it off and taking a hold of his own tea. “Shut up and drink your tea, Meanie-yama. And stop laughing!”

Kageyama didn’t stop laughing, not until he nearly burned his nostrils from trying to sip at the tea mid-laugh. That was enough to put a smile back on Shoyo’s face for the rest of the morning.

Still…stupid as it was, he couldn’t stop sulking for a moment every time he remembered or re-noticed their height difference. It was one thing for his height to pose a challenge with volleyball — Shoyo had years of experience with that. But he didn’t have experience with Kageyama being intolerably smug over being taller than him, and that sparked an urge to rob him of that smugness.

That urge lingered throughout the day, but he didn’t see a chance to act on it until they slid under the covers that night. That’s when an idea finally came to him.

He turned towards Kageyama and waited for him to drape an arm over his waist like he always did. Then, before Kageyama could tuck him under his chin (a habit that now annoyed Shoyo after his morning discovery), Shoyo slid himself up until Kageyama’s head was falling under his chin.

“What’re you doing?”

Shoyo froze at the drowsy question. “Uh. Nothing.”

“Then stay still, I can’t sleep.”

“Sorry.” Shoyo shimmied himself around until he could rest his chin on Kageyama’s head, before he obeyed the grumpy command.

Silence finally fell over the room, broken only by their soft breaths. Shoyo was right on the edge of unconsciousness, only to be yanked back by Kageyama suddenly speaking again. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You are such an idiot.”

“Huh?!”

Kageyama slid his head back to look up at Shoyo, his eyes somehow glittering in the murky light filtering in from the street. “Are you trying to make me feel short? In bed? When we’re supposed to be sleeping?”

“No! I just…thought this could be comfier.”

“Sho, I swear to god—”

“What?!”

“Your height didn’t stop you from playing volleyball professionally. Why the hell is it bothering you now?”

“I dunno!” Shoyo finally admitted in a burst. “I dunno why! I guess it’s just…I was really happy with how much I’d grown, and I kinda…forgot that you would’ve grown, too.” He squirmed, burying his nose in Kageyama’s hair in a pitiful attempt to muffle his words. “I didn’t care before, but I guess when I thought I was closer to your height, I got really excited. But I’m not. I’m just…as short next to you as always.”

He waited for a scoff and a comforting remark disguised as dismissiveness. But instead, he felt his back relaxing under a broad, warm hand drawing soothing strokes along his spine. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it would bother you so much.”

“Don’t apologize,” Shoyo sighed. “I’m just…being stupid.”

“Kind of, yeah. But I don’t want you to feel bad about it. Should I stop putting my chin on your head?”

Shoyo was stunned into silence for a moment. Kageyama had never been cruel to him (barring a few stumbles in high school), but he’d also never really indulged Shoyo’s more irrational impulses. For him to offer to change something so silly…had Shoyo really been so visibly upset all day? “No,” he eventually murmured, “that’s okay. It…felt kinda nice.”

“Really? I can keep doing it?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“Thank fuck.”

A surprised laugh burst out of Shoyo. “Wait, why are you so happy about that?”

“Because I didn’t realize how much resting my head on your shoulder messed with my back until today. I didn’t feel achy at all when I rested on top of your head.”

“Tobio!” Shoyo blindly reached to pinch at his nose, and managed to find his cheek instead. “Why would you keep doing it if it was hurting you?”

“It wasn’t hurting me.” It was truly remarkable how clearly Shoyo could hear both the dismissal and embarrassment in that voice. “I just felt kinda sore after. But it felt good enough to be worth it.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Just…I love you so much, you big, stupid jerk.” Shoyo tried and failed to muffle his laughter in Kageyama’s hair, but he only landed a scolding pinch at Shoyo’s waist in response.

“I love you too, you stupid little dumbass.”

The smile that was audible in those words made Shoyo press a gentle kiss to Kageyama’s head. And this time, when he approached the edge of consciousness, it was with a smile on his lips and the love of his life snuggled under his chin.

[makkir0ll]

private chef! osamu x ceo!reader.

you hired him because you had little to no time to make healthy meals, living off of microwave ramen most of the time. incredibly unhealthy so you hired a private chef. you didn't see him often, only in the morning for a couple of minutes as you ate your breakfast and occasionally he would stand across the counter preparing your lunch.

you can't deny that he's cute, brown hair and big biceps that are constricted from his black compression shirt, the way his muscles are flexed every time he moves. his cooking skills are an added plus. you thank whatever angel is watching over you to give you such a hot man who can cook your meals. but obviously, you had to keep it professional but that doesn't stop you from ogling at him and he doesn't notice either so there’s no harm. (he has noticed.)

and he's not one to complain either. he particularly likes it when you come home late. hair in a messy bun, the first couple of buttons from your work shirt unbuttoned a little bit and at certain angles he can get a peek of the lacy black bra you decided to wear that day.

but his top favorite is when you come out of the shower on those late nights, dressed in your victoria secret silk pajama set, hair wet, and cheeks red from the heat of the shower. you smile softly at him as you take a bit of the dinner he cooked that night and he always falls to his knees weak at the sight of your smile rather than the usual scowl on your face due to the annoying people you have to deal with at work.

and when you fall asleep on the couch as he cleans up the dishes he freezes, he's never seen you so peaceful. would it be breaking boundaries to carry you to your bed? no he thinks, i mean you back would hurt if you slept here all night he justifies as he slowly picks you up and places you softly on your bed.

one day he will get to do that and sleep with you in his arms. but right now he had to plan out your breakfast for tommorow.

@cottonlemonade bc it’s infesting my brain

[bonniepop]

you take a deep breath and try to smooth out your skirt on your lap. this is a very important night for you—far from how you normally spent a saturday night. you were dressed in a brand new dress, wore more than your everyday makeup, and actually put effort into making sure your hair was styled. your skin was buzzing and—

oh my god. oh my god. did you—did they just call your name?

"congratulations," said the woman next to you, reaching for your hand and shaking it. you blink at her and sit up, completely taken by surprise.

"oh—um—thank you—" you stammer, before she ushered you to stand to take your award, clapping her hands together as she did.

making your way to the stage felt weird, like you weren't in your own body. like—

a booming "YEAH!" resounds from the back of the audience, followed by frantic applause and borderline inappropriate hollering. "THAT'S MY GIRL!"

"oh my god, atsumu," you mutter, pressing your hands to your face.

you vaguely hear him proudly tell someone, "we're getting married!" and that makes your face break out into a smile so wide that it kind of hurt.

the announcer at the stage welcomed you with a handshake, gently positioning you to take a photo. you take the award with a smile and a polite bow, before straightening and speaking into the mic.

"thank you so much for this award," you start.

"YEAH, BABY!" atsumu yells from the back, and the crowd bursts out into laughter. "YOU DESERVE IT!"

you let out a laugh. "um, it's been a long journey to get to this point, but truth be told i wouldn't be standing here without the help of my team. i don't think i would've gotten as far as i did without them—"

the angry response was quick. "DON'T SELL YOURSELF SHOR—OW! THAT HURT, MOTHERF—!"

the crowd once again bursts into laughter, and you catch your face with one hand and try to calm yourself. osamu had sat next to him; he probably punched atsumu in an effort to temper the embarrassment. you understood, though. you're beyond ecstatic and touched your fiancé was here to support you, but this was starting to get mildly embarrassing...

"um, yeah, anyway," you say, trying to compose yourself, "um, again, thank you so much for this award. as theodore roosevelt said, 'the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.' and i'm very lucky to have my team who feels the same way."

"I LOVE YOU, BABY!" atsumu yells, and you hold in a laugh.

you feel like you can end your speech here, as the crowd already applauds, but you decided: fuck being embarrassed.

"and of course," you say, "i'd also like to thank my wonderful fiancé and japan's number one setter, miya atsumu. thank you for always being the best teammate, in love and in life." you raise the award. "i love you."

you can almost see him at the back, practically standing on his seat as he applauds louder than anyone in the room. you can imagine osamu, sinking further down into his own seat in utter humiliation.

after the ceremony, atsumu collects you into his arms and twirls you around. "congratulations, baby!"

you hug him. "thank you, atsumu." when he sets you down, you smile at osamu. "thanks for coming with him."

"i am never doing this again," he says flatly.

atsumu grins and loops an arm around your shoulders. "you're just jealous you're single as fu—OW, stop fucking hitting me!"

[renardiererin]

rintarou suna loves hearing about your day. it’s not his fault he doesn’t have the best attention span! when you’re all worked up about the people you work with who lack common sense, when you’re sitting in front of him, slowly and subconsciously rubbing your thighs together had your eyebrows furrow at the description of your day… how could he help himself? rintarou suna loves listening to you talk, make no mistake, but he really does focus better if he’s got something to busy his hands. can you even blame him when you’re halfway through your story about a lame coworker who can’t do their job right and his strong, slender hands make their way up your inner thighs? can you even blame him when his skillful fingers start to peel away at your panties? how could you even be mad when he’s got that glint in his eye, already pussy drunk from running his middle finger up your folds and watching your eyes widen as your breath hitches upon contact. it’s not his fault he’s bad at focusing. sometimes it helps him listen when he’s knuckles deep in your sloppy little cunt, squeezing his fingers and squelching out cries for more, popping the buttons of your shirt and unclamping your bra with his free hand until he’s knuckle deep in your pussy, tits in his mouth, one hand groping your ass and pulling you closer, but he’s still looking up at you waiting for the rest of the story! being inside of you just makes him focus.

[revasserium]

love bites

kenma, tsukki, kageyama, hinata; 2,025 words; fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of hickies, no "y/n", fem!reader, whiney!kageyama, dom!hinata, tsukki being... tsukki, post timeskip!characters

summary: these hickeys like the remnants of our love, footsteps on the sea-soaked sand, a line of demarcation -- here is where our story begins.

a/n: i just rly wanted to write about hq! babes and hickies...

kenma.

the first time it happens, it’s a mistake — a brief moment of vindictiveness manifest in the way he whines and nuzzles into your neck before opening his mouth and sinking his teeth into your skin. when you gasp, your head tipping back, kenma pauses, pulling back, his mind already cataloging this very interesting new piece of information for later use, but his eyes have yet to catch up — his body has yet to catch up with the sight of you, cheeks pink, lips parted, eyes slightly glazed over as you stare ruefully up at him, a hand coming up to press over your mouth as you frown.

“w-what was that for?”

kenma hums, sitting back with a pout, “you were the one being unfair.”

you scowl, “how was i being unfair? you lost the game fair and square — the stakes were loser does the dishes.”

kenma sniffs, his nose crinkling at the thought, “but we have a dishwasher — it’s literally in the name —”

“but the nice wine glasses can’t be put through the dishwasher!”

you push yourself up onto your elbows even as kenma slumps back on the sofa, groaning loudly. still, he lets his head slump to one side to stare at the rapidly darkening patch of skin at the junction of your neck and shoulders. there’s something that feels dangerously like desire calcifying in the pit of his stomach and he weighs the pros and cons of leaning forward to give you another good bite.

really, dinner was great, dessert was better but — this.

suddenly, he understands what his teammates had always meant when they’d said they could keep on eating forever, even when their stomachs were full to bursting, even when they thought they’d be ill.

“stupid wine glasses…” he murmurs, leaning forward to prop his chin on your shoulder. you laugh, a soft, breathy thing as you reach out to tug a strand of hair from his low, messy bun.

“but the wine was good, no?”

kenma hums, letting his head loll back and forth, his eyes flickering down once more to the round ring of red now rising against your skin. he allows himself a tiny grin, leaning forward to press a kiss over the tender flesh. he makes note of the way you gasp, soft and expectant, the way your body seems to tense and then go laxed beneath his hands.

“yeah…” he whispers, smirking as he sinks delicate fingers into your hair, gently shifting your head to one side to allow him more access, “guess it was good…”

he presses another kiss to your neck, just slightly below the reddening hickey.

“g-guess? that was — a-an expensive bottle…”

“hmmm…” kenma trails his lips down over your shoulder, tugging lightly at your shirt, the wide collar falling away easily. when he finds yet another patch of unmarred skin, grazing his teeth over it, he feels the way you reach up to fist your fingers in his hair.

“’zume… don’t think you can get out of doing the dishes like this…”

kenma laughs, letting his breath puff out against your skin seconds before he opens his mouth and takes another soft bite. he doesn’t miss the way you whimper this time, doesn’t mistake the hitch in your breath for something like surprise when he knows better — and he knows you best of all.

“not trying to get out of doing it… just… we never specified when the loser has to do the dishes so…” he licks his lips, glancing up at you with a bright, devilish flicker behind his eyes, “i’m just taking my time with the meal. nothing wrong with that, right?”

tsukki.

it is a normal thing, for you to wake up in the morning and find remnants of the night before scattered across your skin like sand dollars littered upon a stretch of beloved beach. and tsukishima is never apologetic — ever.

if anything, he looks upon his work with pride, smirking as you tug at the collar of your shirt, tutting.

“tsukki… i told you not to bite so hard…”

“hmm… sorry, i must’ve forgotten,” he props a cheek on his hand, peering at you over his glasses, his tone the farthest thing from apologetic, “heat of the moment and all.”

you shoot him a reproachful look in the mirror and watch as his grin widens ever so slightly.

“the girls are the museum are gonna have a field day with this.”

tsukishima shrugs, slumping back into the bed with a loud, long sigh.

“dunno why girls have such a weird fixation on other people’s boyfriends. ‘s not like it’s any of their business.”

you tug listlessly at the collar of your button up shirt, resigned to the fact that you’ll never be able to hide the marks properly as you heave another sigh.

“it’s just how we communicate — it’s like… how guys sometimes just need to like… punch it out — or whatever.”

“or whatever?” tsukishima almost chortles, rolling over onto his stomach again. your schedules at the museum only overlap 2 days a week, and the rest of the days, either he’s off or you are. it’s a miracle the pair of you were able to meet in the first place, let alone hit it off like you did.

“yeah. i don’t know how guys communicate,” you say, even as tsukishima swings out of bed to come up behind you, looping his arms around your middle.

“we… don’t, really,” he admits, in a customary deadpan, propping his chin on the top of your head with obscene ease. you frown up at him, tilting your head back till it hits the middle of his chest.

“you’re gonna make me late again.”

“so?”

“so — unless you want me to get fired —”

“they’re not gonna fire you. you’re too good at… cataloging maps, or whatever it is you guys do in the cartography department.”

tsukishima spins you around his arms, pressing you lightly back against the mirror. he considers you for a moment, with eyes just sharp enough to pass for academic interest, but you see the darkness misting its depths, the pressure in his fingertips as he leans in to seal his lips over yours in a kiss that could only be called searing.

you break away gasping, only to feel his lips trail fire down your neck seconds before —

“t-tsukki — !”

he pulls back with a satisfied smirk; you can feel yet another bruise blooming along your skin.

“there. one more thing for you and your girlfriends to bond over, hm?”

kageyama.

it is a deliberate thing, the first time. but kageyama remembers the strange gravity, the tug just behind his navel, the persistent itch of curiosity as he leans forward to sink his teeth into your skin.

he likes the way you hiss, the way you go soft in his arms, the pair of you already a pile of tangled limbs on the massive sectional in the living room, the lights dimmed, half a bottle of red wine yet un-drunk on the coffee table.

“tobio… what —”

he hums, burying his face in your shoulder, fingers digging into your sides.

“… something i wanted to try…”

“hm?” you gently card your fingers through his hair, quirking your head to one side.

“it’s just —” he pulls back, a deep blush prickling his cheeks as he looks anywhere but at you, “something… i’ve wanted to try. for — a while,” he admits, looking shockingly small for a internationally renowned volleyball player, hunched over on the couch like this, his lips stained dark with wine.

you giggle, leaning up to tilt his chin back towards yours.

“sure. you can try whatever you want.”

you lay back, stretching out beneath him, pliant and willing, and kageyama goes still for a solid four seconds before he narrows his eyes, an un-namable hunger clawing at his insides as he pulls you beneath him and groans into your skin.

he likes the way the colors seep the surface of your skin, likes the way it’s so obvious against the bright of your collarbones. he spends all of the following day in an intoxicatingly good mood, to the point where his teammates are understandable suspicious. but he just tells them he slept well, that he had a good dinner last night, that wine was really, really delicious.

and that thanks for the recommendation.

hinata.

brazil has changed him, in more ways than you can count, but at the same time, in some ways, he is just, just the same.

“s-shou-you!”

“mmm —” he whines sucking a deep hickey into the junction of your neck, his pupils blown wide as he pulls back, lips split into a too-pleased grin, “what is it? did i hurt you?”

there’s the barest hint of a tease in his voice, and anyone else might’ve thought he’s completely serious, that he’s actually worried. and in a sense, he is — he’d never want to actually hurt you. but he also knows that — to a certain degree, you revel in this kind of pain.

you chew on your bottom lip, shaking your head.

“no… it’s — it’s okay.”

“yeah?” he sounds entirely too happy with himself as he reaches forward to thumb at the damp spot on your skin, “ah… that one’ll be pretty. just like you!”

he laughs, his joy so pure and infectious that it makes you blush. you look away.

“shou…?”

“hm? what is it, pretty girl?”

he bends back down to press a light kiss to your collarbone, peaking up at you with those would-be innocent eyes.

“don’t… don’t tease me.”

hinata laughs, that self-same, joyous sound.

“but i like teasing you!” he says, with no hint of malice, not a single sliver of shame.

you can only cover your eyes with your arm, turning your head away.

“aww, don’t do that —” he says, coaxing your hand away before pinning both of them above your head with a single, fluid move. your breath hitches.

“don’t hide from me…”

it’s too much to hope for that someone with eyes like his would miss such a thing. you watch as the dark, lightless centers of his eyes grow ever so slightly larger, threatening to overtake the honeyed ring of his actual iris.

“can’t… can’t help it…” you look away, feeling the waves of indomitable heat, wave after wave, washing through you, collecting at the base of your stomach to twist into something deeper, something harder.

“can’t help what, hm?” hinata laces your fingers with his; distinctly, you can feel his thighs flex on either side of your legs, locking you in place. the summers are hot in rio, but you can’t help but wonder if more than half the heat in the room might be coming from the pair of you alone.

all around him, the air wavers like a reflection in pond-water —

“shou… just —” you lick your lips.

“ah…” there’s a soft whine curling at the edge of his voice as he leans down, “you’re not playing fair at all…”

desire pulses like a heartbeat inside you.

“shouyou, please,” you beg, trying to wrest some semblance of control back from him but he’s having none of it. he pins your hands to either side of your head, his bed more than wide enough for the pair of you, with room to spare.

“mah… you gotta be a bit more specific than that,” he says, his voice almost casual as he noses into your pulse point right beneath your jaw. you hold your breath and a second later, the harsh sting of his teeth rakes through you, chasing pleasure down your spine.

“m-more —” you choke out the word against the heat of his lips and you feel rather than see him grin above you.

“yeah? i think i can do that for you.”

[afyrian]

the olympic muffins w/ atsumu | wc: 260 m.list

    “you need to eat something other than muff-”

  “no, no, y/n, you don’t understand how amazing these chocolate muffins are,” atsumu sits across from you, chocolate already on his fingers, some smudged on the tip of his nose. 

  you roll your eyes, hands holding a sandwich. everything there is amazing, the different cultures and flavors represented in an array of recipes. and yet all that atsumu seems to be grabbing are the chocolate muffins. he raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for a retort that he would only scoff at. “right, right.. because that is totally healthy for game day,” you take another bite, watching as he does as well.

  “but when else will i get to eat these? besides the swimmer dude keeps taking them all anyway,” atsumu shrugs, not having fully swallowed the large bite of chocolate. 

  it’s beginning to cover his teeth in an odd display, your hand reaching for a napkin to help clean him up. “when you’re done with finishing your event in the olympics.. but also you do have something on your face,” taking the condensation on your water, you wet the napkin and bring it up to his face.

  wiping his nose and sides of his mouth, he gives you a warm smile, “what would i do without you, my sweet, sweet girlfriend here?”

  “well you’d be a mess, that’s for sure,” you laugh, ignoring the odd looks from fellow competitors that sit nearby, setting the napkin back down. because all you can do is keep looking at him, breathing it all in.