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andcars · 3 months ago

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🍒 ✦ FUCK YOU LOVED

﹙ 55 ﹚ ─────── how can only you taste the world?

PREMISE " it's not the most conventional way. people who court don't often fuck the object of their affection. carlos was always the exception

RELATIONSHIP(S) " carlos sainz/you TAGS " porn with extreme feelings, non-traditional courting, sweet talking, light dom carlos sainz, bathtub sex, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, open-ending WC " 2.3k

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Love—the burning feeling that’s feasible only when your mouth has dried in the harsh desert. Except, the dessert is actually just beside a McDonald’s this day and age. It doesn’t have to make sense, you think. Love is just… love. People can’t choose who to love, same goes for how. It’s simply a feeling that is passed down from generation to generation.

The flowers sit at your desk, untouched. It’s not real flowers. The touch is plastic and faux, yet it smells just the same as any rose. Low effort love. Love that only shows it exists, doesn’t matter how. You think it’s sweet. Carlos must have just gotten it to you to spice up your grey desk.

When you come home, you know who to expect. It’s like the world revolves around seeing Carlos in your kitchen, cooking you a meal you never asked for. Knowingly, you open the door and greet him. His voice echoes from the kitchen.

“How do you feel about Japanese?” he asks, your bag carelessly thrown on top of the kitchen bar. “I thought that we should try something new.”

Every day with Carlos feels like something new.

“I don’t mind.” You play off your feelings and the looming voice that tells you—You’re only playing with Carlos Sainz’s fucking feelings! Say yes or no, god damn it! To that, you crack open a beer with a nasty sound. Carlos let out a laugh that sounded more like a huff of air.

He asks you, “Rough day?”

“Been rough. I don’t think I can catch a break in my own house.”

Carlos finished cooking—or, you think he has. He turns off the stove and approaches you who sits lonely at a stool. He closes in on you the same way a predator opens its mouth to a bunny. You think his uvulva is shaped like a heart.

The seat beside you doesn’t go occupied, “Should I leave?” asks the predator with the heart-shaped uvulva. “It’s okay if I leave.”

For a second, you think what it would be like if Carlos does leave. You will sit alone in the dining room, eating a meal that isn’t prepared by you, and smelling distinctly of fake flowers you brought home.

And you brought it home because it’s too beautiful to be left alone in such a dull space. It doesn’t deserve to be the only light—it deserves to be complementary to a beautiful room.

“Stay,” you smile at him, unknowing if it was forced. “I think I’m just tired. I don’t really want to be alone tonight.”

Carlos Sainz is a man who will never leave you alone. He’ll love you for the rest of his days, you think. So he takes the meal—Kakuni, accompanied with an egg sliced in half—and places it in front of you. “Aren’t you going to eat?” you ask. He tells you that he ate beforehand, and you’re not sure how much you believe it. He eats at your place after a few insisting arguments.

What would life be with Carlos? It would involve a lot of yearning. Yearning in a way that he needs to leave, go back to his own life, and then you have to see him through the lens of people who don’t know him. Yet, when he comes home, the spell breaks and the sun rises again. You’re enveloped in sunshine and—Jeez, the food tastes so good.

“You like it?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know the answer already.

You joke, because you test the waters, “I could marry you for this dish alone.”

He appreciates it. “If it were only that easy.”

If it were only.

Carlos is not allowed to clean the dishes and the counter. He sits prettily, watching you like he’s your husband. Anyone could walk in right now and think the same. It’s the thought that you two are dating, but you aren’t saying you are, that haunts you. A glass is almost broken at the thought of leading Carlos on.

Still, it doesn’t break. You invite Carlos to your bed, and he knows what you want. No other man would do this for anyone. Carlos is an angel because he does everything for you, and you’re still debating if cariño is a stereotypical nickname to give to a potential Spanish boyfriend. If, if you’re dating, he’d enjoy being called Chili Pepper more because Pepper is a metaphor for dick.

Both of you lie on your sides. He’s kissing your face because he thinks it’s pretty. He’s devouring your mouth because he thinks every word that comes out of it is pretty. Moans slip between you interchangeably. Two of you melt against each other’s skin as his hands are careful to worship you, skin-to-skin.

“Carlos,” his name sounds distant from your ears. “Carlos—fuck,” his hands made its way to the smooth of your skin. If the two of you don’t stop, you’d think that he will hate the taste of your work-mudded skin. “Hold on, actually,” you pause, he follows, “I’m… a bit dirty. I think I should shower first.”

He smiles. Carlos wraps his arms around your waist and bares his teeth, “I don’t mind. If you think that I wouldn’t like it if I ate you out also, I really wouldn’t mind—”

“Woah there,” you laugh, pushing his chest. “Let’s not get all freaky that quick, okay? I feel sticky, and you should take a bath too. You smell like soy sauce.”

“Mmm,” he presses a kiss on your mouth, “just say I smell delicious enough to eat.”

A light push to his head gets him to snap out of it. Sort of. He’s laughing all the way to the bathroom, and he sets the water just right. Boldly, he watches you undress. Like the Mona Lisa, you are framed in his eyes.

He follows you only after you eye his clothed body. In silence, he understands you (like a lover does). His tanned skin gave a bronze highlight to the pale room. It reflects through the tiles, and your body feels like it's glowing from his beauty. The sun to your moon. The faux rose on a grey desk.

After pouring water on your face—ow, it did catch you off guard—he’s kissing you again. The water bubbles gleefully around you as his kisses turn almost feral. His chest compresses against yours, large hands trapping you on the edge of the tub. He’s kissing you like he hasn’t done so in aeons. He’s kissing you like he has done it for aeons.

His kiss comes to a halt as he moves underneath the shallow water. Carefully, he places you on his lap as your feet go above water. Carlos is proud to have you pressed up against him, only able to keep your eyes fixated on the way water droplets drip down from his hair.

“See something you like?” he asks, a bit cheesy. You splash him with water and he can’t fucking stop smiling.

“I’d like a Carlos who’s doing their job properly,” you tell him. It’s a commander’s prompt and he’s methodically obliging.

A hand comes down to cup your mound. It’s a bit wet and lightly soapy but it circles your clit in gentle strokes. The motion catches you lightly off guard, clenching onto nothing but the water. It’s a bit uncomfortable. So, you reach beneath you to pull the plug.

The sound of the water draining doesn’t drown your moans. He’s pulling you up against the bathtub until your head hits the tiled walls. Firmly, he pushes his thumb on your clit and rubs it in circular motions. Your head lolls to the side, and you accidentally turn the shower head on when you attempt to find grip on something.

His head is drenched. The perfect hair he’s curated sticks to his forehead, and somehow that’s even hotter than anything you’ve seen from it. Carlos has an expression on his face that mirrors yours, in some way. He’s acting like he’s the one being pleasured.

That being said, you can’t leave him alone. Reaching down, you find his cock—hard, ready to go—standing in salute. It thrives in new attention as you stroke it. Carlos adjusts the position so your cunt faces his cock and you reach in front of you to touch him.

“Feels good, mi amor.” You ache, hating that he calls you his love already. “Making me feel so good. I’m going to fuck you so good that you won’t need anything else but me.”

In a better world, that would be true.

A finger pushes inside of you, then another, and another. Carlos is fucking you earnestly in goal to stretch you out. You feel your insides opening to him quite nicely. It’s a nice, familiar feeling now. Carlos being inside you feels just right. It feels almost perfect (and that’s terrifying).

“Do you think you’re ready?” he asks, slow and steady. Consent is fucking hot. “I’m not sure if you can take me yet.”

“Fucking hell, Carlos,” you groan out, finding lewdity in his casual tone. “You… My God—yea, yeah. Just push in. I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”

Another finger is pushed in, defiantly. You arch your back as he won’t stop rubbing your G-spot in quick flickers. “Sorry, just want to make sure.” He’s not sorry at all. He’s drinking up the way you bite your lips, your eyes stay hard to focus, and pussy quivering around his fingers like it’s a cock.

You don’t want to cum yet and you trash in his arms. He gets the point and pulls away softly, leaving your throbbing, edged pussy behind. It’s practically crying with the lack of his presence.

Thankfully, you don’t need to wait that long. Carlos has you by the hips as he guides you onto his awaiting cock. The stretch is so fucking thick each time. Carlos may seem average in length—from what you can eyeball, anyway—but he’s so fucking thick that it hurts almost everytime he pushes it in. Your toes curl, your body tenses, and you’re wet because you want it inside you so fucking bad.

“Open up for me,” he whispers, your name loose on his tongue and yet so loved, “gonna do so well for me. Just relax your pretty body, amor.”

Trying your best, you lean forward as you cling to his neck. You bury yourself in his shoulders as the new angle makes you push in deeper. The stretch is almost painful but you want it to fucking hurt. You want it to hurt because Carlos Sainz loves you and he’s fucking you right open because he doesn’t want you to be sad. Meanwhile, you enjoy his cock without telling him an ounce of affection.

“There we go,” he murmurs, sweetly and gently into your ear. “So good for me. Pussy so tight, hm? Just want to hold on to me. It’s okay. I have you.”

He really does.

After moments of trying, you take his cock to the hilt. You’re shaking and moaning and he’s fucking you up and down like a toy. Carlos overpowers you in so many ways and you want nothing else but to be on the other end. It’s rewarding. It’s punishing. It’s dizzying because Carlos Sainz is punching into you and splitting you in half.

“Fuck, fuck, Carlos—” you whine, a moan so gutteral vibrating through your body—”so good. Ohmago—... so f- fucking good. Just like that, baby.”

He groans. Your sounds spur him on as his hips meet yours harshly. The lewd melody of your skin slapping echoes through the bathroom tiles, and it jumps back at you at full speed. Your pussy is throbbing to the beat of his thrusts and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. His back is scratched up with your mark,s and his shoulder slobbered over with drool. You think, loudly, that this is so fucking amazing that you feel like you’re going to die.

Carlos lets out a throaty laugh. “You won’t die, amor,” he breathes out, pausing just to catch you from slipping, “I’m not going to let you.”

You will, still. His cock is deep and you’re trying hard to accomodate the girth. He’s fucking you like a whore and kissing you like a lover. Not one part of you isn’t getting overstimulated with the contrast of his actions. Carlos grasps your hair as your nails dig in sharply to the shape of his back.

It’s not long until you feel it. The coiling in your stomach, the sharp feeling in your core. You need to release unintelligible words from your mouth quicker than you could think. “Yes, yes, yes, yes! Carlos, please. ‘m going to cum. ‘m gonna. Like that—like that—oh God—!”

A little scream dies in your throat as your body convulses. You feel yourself pulse as you cum all over his cock. His thrusts slow down to ease your orgasm. The feeling of it is a guide to the harsh waves flowing through your body.

Carlos pauses, slowly pulling out. His cock is covered in your juices and you’re sat on the edge of his tub, watching him as he strokes himself to completion. His eyes don’t leave you. You’re breathing heavily, watching him pleasure himself only at the sight of you.

It doesn’t take long until he points to the drain beneath you and cums there. Panting leaves his chest moving up and down. Both of you attempt to situate yourselves in the scene you two just made.

“We’re not clean again,” he jokes, a snort leaving you. “How about a proper shower, cariño?”Soon enough, the world is going to be perfect. It’s a few ‘yes’ at a time. Starting from now, is a yes to a proper fucking shower.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @yourmommyagone22 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

FOOTNOTE ────── yessir, andi has changed theme once again. keeping the classic red tone but soon rebranding how the entire acc looks. i'm just too busy with my stuff to fully handle it all at once. hope this one was a good read cuz i def found a good playlist to write with this one

#🔖 . CS55 #: 🔗 above 2k #: 🔗 fic #carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 scenarios #formula one imagine

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b1xi · 8 months ago

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───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Haikyuu(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count: 4919

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Hinata’s eyes sparkled as he looked around the residence where the team would be staying before the match. “Oh, is this where we’ll be staying?” he asked, his voice brimming with excitement as he inspected every corner of the place. “It’s my first training camp! This is going to be so much fun.”

Off to the side, Tsukishima crossed his arms and sighed, looking at Hinata with a mix of exasperation and disdain. “Oh, great. A whole day surrounded by this bunch of airheads… what’s so fun about that?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his usual sarcastic attitude.

“Tsukishima, you idiot!” Tanaka exclaimed, stepping forward.

Nishinoya backed him up with equal energy. “Kiyoko’s less than 500 meters away! How can you be so insensitive?” His expression was pure drama, as if the distance from Kiyoko physically pained him.

You shook your head with a smile, already used to the boys’ antics. Without wasting any more time, you headed to the room assigned to you. Sliding the door open, you were surprised by the spacious interior; it seemed ready to accommodate several people. While you would have enjoyed sharing it with someone like Kiyoko, you knew the young manager would head home since she lived nearby.

With a sigh of relief, you dropped your bag on the floor and started checking if you had everything you needed for the night. Pajamas? Check. Toothbrush and personal care kit? Check. Clean clothes and skincare products? Check. Satisfied that you had packed all the essentials for a peaceful night, you prepared for what would be a solo sleepover.

You got up, ready for dinner. Spotting Hinata and Kageyama sitting together, you decided to join them, though you quickly realized it wasn’t the best choice: both were devouring their food as if it were their first and last meal. Between smiles and incredulous glances, you carefully guarded your plate, mindful of your teammates' voracious appetites.

Even though you had been in Japan for years, you were still selective about some local dishes. Still, you ventured to take a generous spoonful of curry, offering a polite “Itadakimasu” before starting.

It wasn’t long before Hinata, with a hopeful look, pointed at the pieces of kakuni on your plate. “Y/N, are you going to eat that?” he asked, his eyes shining with a mix of enthusiasm and longing.

Smiling, you slid your plate toward him. “No, Shoyo-kun, go ahead.”

“Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best,” he said enthusiastically, savoring the kakuni you had shared.

Midway through the meal, Nishinoya leaned closer to both of you, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “Hey, I’ve always wondered something, and if I don’t ask now, I think I’ll lose my mind.” He paused dramatically, capturing everyone’s attention. “Are you two dating or something? I mean, you’re always together... like, all the time.”

Both you and Hinata froze for a moment, exchanging a surprised glance before responding in unison: “Not at all!”

Shoyo laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders playfully. “We’re best friends,” he explained with a carefree grin. “To me, Y/N is like a sister.”

“And to me, Shoyo is like a little brother,” you added, returning his smile. The familiarity and camaraderie in your words made the boys around you laugh, settling the matter.

“Little brother? Why little? We’re the same age!” Hinata protested, frowning comically while the others struggled to hide their smiles.

“Because I’m taller than you, obviously,” you replied with a triumphant grin, crossing your arms to emphasize your point.

Hinata looked at you with a defiant expression, stretching as much as he could in his seat. "Only by a couple of centimeters," he muttered, though his voice betrayed a hint of frustration, which made the boys laugh even harder.

"A couple? I’d say it’s more than that," you replied with an amused smile, raising your hand to emphasize the difference. "Come on, why don’t you try saying ‘big sister’?”

“I’m not saying that,” Hinata protested, frowning and looking away, crossing his arms in a show of stubbornness.

After dinner and a refreshing shower, you slipped into your comfy green Pochacco pajamas and started your nightly skincare routine, following the tips your mom had given you. Sitting on the floor, you opened one of the face masks you had brought, opting for the strawberry one this time. Taking out the small spatula that came with the package, you began carefully applying it to your face.

You hadn’t gotten far when the door burst open. “Excuse me!” Hinata exclaimed as he walked in like it was his own room, closely followed by Nishinoya. Without a second thought, they settled down next to you.

“What are you doing?” Hinata asked, his curiosity evident.

“Just relaxing a bit,” you replied, holding a small mirror as you applied the mask to your face. Then, with an amused smile, you offered, “Want to try?”

“Why not?” the redhead agreed, amused, as he pushed his messy bangs back with a couple of hair clips.

“I want to try too!” Nishinoya chimed in enthusiastically. Before you knew it, what had started as a solo routine turned into an impromptu group spa session. Tanaka and Asahi joined in on the fun, intrigued by the idea of trying the masks. Now, holding the lemon mask in your hand, you were carefully applying it to Asahi’s face as he shared, with a touch of guilt, how he had accidentally scared a first-year student earlier that day and how bad he felt about it.

Meanwhile, Hinata, Tanaka, and Nishinoya had moved to the other side of the room, apparently focused on your PSP, trying to beat the level you had left unfinished. You could hear their murmurs and exclamations every time one of them made a mistake in the game.

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were walking down the hall after their showers. Tsukishima, with his usual air of indifference, wiped the steam off his glasses, adjusting them slightly in an attempt to restore a clear view. When they passed by your room and saw the door slightly ajar, with murmurs and laughter spilling into the hallway, both stopped, intrigued.

“What the hell…?” Tsukishima whispered, glancing inside with a mix of surprise and exasperation at the scene unfolding. From the doorway, they could see Hinata, Tanaka, and Nishinoya engrossed in your PSP in one corner, while you sat on the floor, carefully applying a lemon mask to Asahi’s face, who looked more relaxed than either of them had ever seen him.

Noticing their presence, you gestured for them to come in. “Tsukishima, Yamaguchi! Want to try?” you asked with an amused smile as you finished applying the mask on Asahi.

Before Tsukishima could respond with his usual sarcasm, Yamaguchi had already stepped forward. “Sure,” he replied enthusiastically, moving to where you were. With complete confidence, he settled on the floor and rested his head on your lap, relaxed and ready to be pampered. He chose the strawberry mask, and you began applying it to his face with gentle movements, enjoying the calm of the moment.

Tsukishima let out a barely audible murmur. “Traitor…” he said under his breath, though his words lacked their usual bite. Without much else, he moved closer and sat beside you, crossing his arms and giving you a look of patient resignation, as if waiting for you to finish.

“This is so relaxing,” Yamaguchi commented, enjoying the soft strawberry scent of the mask on his face. When you finished, he sat up and joined the others, who were still struggling to beat the video game level, fully immersed in the challenge.

With an amused smile, you turned to Tsukishima, showing him the remaining mask options. “Alright, which one do you want?” you asked, holding up the two for him to see.

He simply shrugged. Without much hesitation, you picked the lemon one. “Then it’ll be this one,” you said decisively, opening the container.

Without a word, Tsukishima shifted slightly and rested his head on your lap. “Make it quick. This is ridiculous,” he muttered with his typical indifference. But deep down, you knew that if he were really uncomfortable, he wouldn’t have agreed so easily. As you began applying the mask, you felt his hair, still damp from the shower, slightly soaking your clothes.

When your hands brushed his face to remove his glasses, Tsukishima tensed for just a moment—almost imperceptibly. To anyone else, his posture would still seem indifferent, but in that moment, he was grappling with thoughts he would never allow to surface. Ever since the day he met you, something about you had unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite decipher. He remembered that second encounter—when you accidentally hit him in the face with a ball—and how it made him see you differently. And when you approached to check if he was okay, cheeks flushed and voice filled with apologies, he had been intrigued. He couldn’t explain what caught his attention; maybe it was your unusual accent when you spoke Japanese or the spontaneous expressions in your native language that you let slip into conversations. There was something genuine and refreshing about it.

But perhaps what surprised him most was how wholeheartedly you threw yourself into supporting them. Despite their chaotic practices, mistakes, and failures, there you were, cheering them on with fervor. Shouting words of encouragement that sometimes seemed almost ridiculous but somehow managed to energize and uplift them. And, though he’d never admit it out loud, there was something charming about your jokes—those corny ones you told when you sat next to him, not caring if they weren’t funny, simply enjoying the moment.

There was also the way your intelligence caught him off guard, like when you helped Hinata with his homework during breaks. He couldn’t deny that he saw you differently, in a way that clashed with his usual attitude.

It was the little things, the unconscious details that made you stand out. The way you furrowed your brow when something didn’t sit right with you or when you didn’t understand something—a look that became even more evident when you reviewed sheet music in the gym during breaks. Often, he watched you from afar, observing in silence. Your presence seemed to have its own rhythm; you always smelled nice, dressed gracefully, and to him, you looked more than good. However, whenever he started thinking about all of this, his mind would quickly rein itself in, reminding him that he shouldn’t think of you that way—especially in a moment like this.

Suddenly, the snap of fingers in front of his face pulled him out of his trance. “Earth to Tsukki,” he heard your voice, clear and amused. He opened his eyes and saw you raising an eyebrow, his glasses perched on your face, making you look funny. His gaze met yours, and for a brief instant, he couldn’t help but smile—if only on the inside.

"Man, you’re really blind," you said playfully, noticing how strong the lenses were.

Tsukishima looked at you with a mix of frustration and resignation, quickly extending his hand to try to grab his glasses back. "Give me that," he said seriously, but you, quick as ever, moved away before he could reach them. He was lucky the mask covered the slight blush on his cheeks, which didn’t escape your notice.

"'Give me that,'" you mimicked, copying his tone and posture, which only made him huff in annoyance.

"I don’t sound like that," he complained, still trying to retrieve his glasses, but you moved deftly to keep them out of his reach, enjoying the slight discomfort you seemed to cause him. Tsukishima’s nearsightedness didn’t help him much in this situation, and when he tried to distract you by smearing a bit of the mask onto the bridge of your nose, you paused to clean it off. He took advantage of the moment, grabbing his glasses back with a small victorious smirk.

"How annoying," you muttered, rubbing your nose to remove the excess cream, only to hear a triumphant cheer from the other side of the room.

"We did it!" Hinata and Yamaguchi shouted in unison, celebrating as they finally cleared the level you’d been stuck on. Their excitement filled the room, and Tsukishima, clearly irritated by the noise, let out an exasperated sigh.

"So loud," he commented, his tone as sharp as always.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Daichi appeared, looking surprised and slightly annoyed. "Hey, it’s late! What are you all still doing up?" he said firmly. Taking in the scene before him, he frowned in disbelief. "What… what is this? Go wash that stuff off your faces and get to bed. Now."

With a collective sigh, everyone began getting up and reluctantly leaving the room, some grumbling about the captain’s order while others simply muttered their goodnights, resigned to Daichi’s reprimand.

You grumbled softly under your breath as you walked at a slow pace, trailing far behind the group of boys. "Damn… This is what I get for showing up early," you muttered, casting a frustrated glance at the figures running ahead. Ukai’s training sessions were notorious for being grueling, but you’d never thought you’d find yourself caught up in one.

"Come with us, you never exercise, not even in PE," the redhead had said with that boundless energy of his that sometimes got on your nerves. Stupid carrot head, you thought with a mix of irritation and resignation.

Unlike the rest, who were already running at a steady pace, you chose not to rush. Instead of trying to keep up, you preferred to stroll leisurely, enjoying the cool morning air and the quiet streets stretching out before you.

"Hinata, don’t yell for no reason; you’re just going to tire yourself out faster," Daichi warned, his tone firm but patient. Hinata, however, ignored the advice, picking up his pace to try and overtake Kageyama.

"Hey, where are you going?" Daichi exclaimed again as the redhead suddenly veered off course with all his impulsiveness.

You sighed at the commotion, finally catching up to the group, who had stopped by the side of the road for a break. Despite the curious glances sent your way, you didn’t stop. You simply kept walking with the same calm as before, unwavering in your stride.

"Wait, where are you going now?" Daichi asked, raising an eyebrow at your indifference to the team’s pause.

"To find him," you replied without slowing down, adjusting your high ponytail and brushing away the strands of hair that had begun sticking to the back of your neck from the heat. "Let’s just get this over with. It’s too hot to drag this out any longer."

You continued walking, your pace steady and determined. As you turned a corner, your gaze landed on Shoyo, who seemed engrossed in an animated conversation with another boy.

"Shoyo!" you called firmly as you approached. He quickly turned at the sound of your voice, an innocent smile lighting up his face. However, your attention soon shifted to the young man standing beside him.

He was dressed in a red tracksuit, probably his school uniform, and though his posture was relaxed, there was something in his gaze that unsettled you. His sharp, feline eyes rested on you for a moment, calmly analyzing before returning to the phone in his hands. He was reserved, that much was clear, but there was something intriguing about his demeanor. For a moment, he reminded you of Nayuta, though with a more masculine version of her serene expression—except for the blonde hair that set him apart.

"Oh, there you are!" Shoyo exclaimed, interrupting your thoughts with his usual energy, bouncing toward you like he was celebrating a victory. "This is Kozume Kenma; he’s a second-year in high school and, well… he’s lost," he explained, casually pointing at the blonde boy.

"I-I’m Y/N Y/LN," you introduced yourself, bowing slightly with more nervousness than you would’ve liked to show. Why are you stuttering? For god’s sake, he’s just a cute guy, you scolded yourself internally, feeling a slight warmth on your cheeks.

Kenma barely nodded in response, murmuring something that sounded vaguely like "nice to meet you" without looking up from his phone. His lack of interaction didn’t bother you; instead, it piqued your curiosity about his quiet and reserved personality.

"Did you know Kenma plays volleyball too?" Hinata chimed in enthusiastically. Hearing that, your eyes drifted to the athletic shoes poking out of the bag next to the blonde boy. They were of good quality, evidently worn but well cared for.

"He’s a setter, but not like ours," Shoyo continued, referring to Kageyama.

"Thank God," you muttered under your breath, just loud enough to pass as a casual remark. The thought of dealing with another Kageyama sounded exhausting.

Kenma glanced up for just a second. "What about you? What position do you play?" he asked, raising his voice just enough for you to hear him clearly.

"She’s our coach’s assistant," Hinata answered before you could even open your mouth. You shot him a sidelong glance, mildly annoyed, but decided not to correct him.

While Hinata continued chatting with Kenma, you stayed silent, merely observing. You noted how effortlessly Shoyo filled any empty space with his contagious energy. Before the redhead could ask the boy about his school, a deep voice rang out from down the street, cutting through the moment.

"Kenma!" called a tall guy with black hair styled in an unusually striking way. His presence dominated the space, his tone a blend of authority and familiarity.

"Kuro," Kenma responded with his characteristic calm. Without hurry, he stood and walked toward his companion.

"Bye," Kenma murmured as he left. You felt a pang of disappointment watching him go so quickly. "See you, Shoyo, Y/N," he added, his tone slightly warmer.

Your eyes met his in that final moment. And just when you thought there wouldn’t be any further interaction, Kenma did something unexpected: he threw you a quick wink, so subtle you might have missed it if you hadn’t kept eye contact. A sudden warmth rose to your cheeks, and before you could process it, he was already walking away with Kuro, as if nothing had happened.

The air, which had felt cool and relaxing earlier, now seemed uncomfortably warm. “Someone hold me…” you muttered under your breath, stunned by what had just occurred. The sense of discomfort and confusion was almost tangible.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Hinata asked, noticing your bewildered state. His eyes sparkled with concern as he observed you curiously. “You’re red. It’s because of the sun, isn’t it?”

Hinata, in his typical fashion, placed a hand on your forehead to shield you from the direct sunlight, trying to protect you with his innocent gesture. However, something in his expression shifted when his gaze followed the direction Kenma and Kuro had taken. His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, it seemed like something had just “clicked” in his mind.

“No… no, no, no way…” he mumbled to himself, as if trying to process an impossible thought. Then, he looked at you, bewildered, noticing you were still silent and your face was still flushed.

“No… it can’t be!” Hinata repeated, his face a mix of confusion and barely hidden curiosity. “Come on, you just met him, and you already… you?” he tried to continue, but you cut him off, placing a hand over his mouth to silence him before he could say more.

“Stop talking,” you said firmly, trying to regain your composure. Straightening up, you stared at Hinata. “Not a word about this, okay?” The seriousness in your tone made it clear this wasn’t the time for jokes.

Hinata looked at you with an amused expression, and you knew you couldn’t trust him to keep this secret. His face was far too mischievous, as if the whole thing was just a game to him.

“Understood?” you insisted, pressing your hand more firmly against his face, hoping he’d finally get the message.

Instead of answering directly, Hinata did something completely unexpected—he licked your palm, as if he couldn’t care less about what you were asking. The gesture left you utterly stunned and, if you were honest, a little grossed out.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting!” you scolded, pulling your hand away quickly and shaking it with a look of disdain.

The familiar voice of Sugawara interrupted you both at that moment. “Hey, guys!” he called out, making you and Hinata turn toward him. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Sorry,” Hinata apologized with a sheepish smile, not seeming too bothered. “I ran off and got lost.”

“It’s fine,” Sugawara replied, brushing off the incident. “Come on, we need to head back.” With that, the group began walking back to the gym, their conversation resuming its usual flow.

It wasn’t long before Hinata sidled up to you, murmuring a question. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?” But before you could respond, he darted away when he caught the murderous glare you shot at him—a clear warning that you didn’t want to talk about it.

“Girls are so weird,” Hinata muttered under his breath, seemingly to himself, glancing at you with a mix of curiosity and mild fear.

Finally, the long-awaited day of the match against Nekoma had arrived. Both teams were lined up in front of the entrance to the gym, ready to enter the venue where the match would take place. The rows were neat, with Karasuno players on one side and Nekoma players on the other.

Your gaze swept across the opposing lineup, and that’s when you saw him: Kenma, the reserved guy you had met not long ago, now dressed in the red and black uniform of Nekoma. To your surprise, he was playing as the setter for the opposing team. Wow, so he's their setter. Cool, I’ll get to see him play, you thought, feeling an odd excitement at the prospect of watching him in action.

"Kenma!" Hinata called before he could enter the gym, excitement clear in his voice. "You're on Nekoma?" he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"Ah, yeah," Kenma replied with his usual calm.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Hinata puffed his cheeks, clearly annoyed that he hadn’t known this detail earlier.

"Because you didn’t ask..." Kenma looked away, his answer as simple as ever, though no less effective.

Hinata furrowed his brows, as if trying to process his teammate's logic. "But you said we’d see each other! How could you not tell me something like that?" he insisted, still confused.

Kenma glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a slight glint of amusement in his gaze. "Your shirt said 'Karasuno High.' It was pretty obvious," he concluded indifferently, leaving Hinata without a comeback.

Before the conversation could continue, a tall and intimidating-looking guy appeared behind Kenma, drawing the attention of both you and Hinata. His expression was serious, and his posture radiated a kind of passive threat.

"Hey," he said in a deep voice, addressing you and Hinata directly. "What do you want with our setter?" His tone aimed to be intimidating, but to you, it was nothing more than a half-hearted attempt.

Hinata, almost instinctively, took a step back and hid behind you, leaving you to handle the situation.

"It’s none of your business," you replied calmly, crossing your arms while maintaining eye contact with the guy. Your voice, though relaxed, carried an edge of challenge. "And who are you?" you added, raising an eyebrow, making it clear that his attitude didn’t impress you.

Before the other guy could respond, Tanaka's voice rang out behind you, full of energy and attitude. "And what do you want from our first-years?" he spat, stepping forward to position himself in front of you with a challenging stance. You glanced at him, feeling a twinge of exasperation. This is ridiculous, you thought, crossing your arms while trying to maintain composure.

As Tanaka and the tall guy began an exchange of words that seemed to escalate quickly, something else caught your attention. A soft "hello" was heard next to you, immediately capturing your interest. When you turned, you found Kenma, who was staring with unusual concentration at the screen of your PSP. On the device, the startup menu of God of War: Ghost of Sparta glowed with its characteristic dark and rustic tones.

Kenma kept his gaze fixed on the screen as you held the console in your hands, his interest clear despite his serene expression. "Do you like it?" he asked in his calm tone, which somehow made your heart beat a little faster.

"Yeah, although... I’m still on level 5," you confessed, lowering your voice slightly as if admitting it were some kind of weakness. "It’s harder than I expected."

Kenma nodded, moving a little closer to get a better look at the screen, his golden eyes analyzing every detail. "Yeah, God of War can be tough if you’re not used to the combos. This one, in particular, has some interesting mechanics, but also a couple of frustrating enemies. Have you faced the Giant Scorpion yet?"

Your face lit up with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "No! I haven’t gotten that far yet, but I’ve heard it’s pretty tough. I’m trying to improve my combos... but I always end up pressing buttons randomly when I get nervous," you admitted, letting out a small nervous laugh as you brushed a lock of hair from your face.

Kenma made a small gesture that seemed like an attempt at a smile. "That happens at first. But if you focus on blocking and dodging at the right moment, the fights get easier. Have you tried using the Spartan Rage? It’s good for clearing out hordes."

You shook your head, embarrassed. "No... I think I forgot how to activate it. The tutorial went too fast, and I didn’t want to go back and check."

Kenma looked at you, surprisingly patient. "It’s L1 and R1 at the same time. Try it next time you’re surrounded by enemies." Then, his eyes returned to the screen, but his closeness made you increasingly aware of every little movement.

"Ah... thanks," you managed to say, feeling ridiculously nervous by his attention. It’s just a guy, calm down, you repeated to yourself, even though your hands started to sweat slightly as you held the console.

"If you want, I can help you with that level," Kenma offered, completely casually, as if it were no big deal. But for you, that simple suggestion made your mind go blank for a moment. Help you? Play together?

"R-really?" you stammered, heat rising to your cheeks. "I mean... if it’s not a bother."

Both of you were so absorbed in your conversation that you didn’t notice the four Karasuno guys watching from a few steps behind. Kageyama had approached Hinata, who seemed to be following the interaction with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"What’s going on?" asked the black-haired boy, frowning.

Hinata, with his usual enthusiasm, leaned toward him and whispered something in his ear. Kageyama furrowed his brow even more, confused. "What about her?" he asked aloud, causing the other two—Yamaguchi and Tsukishima—to step closer.

"Shh, lower your voice," Hinata insisted, whispering. "Look!"

Following his indication, Kageyama turned his gaze toward you and Kenma, who were still absorbed in your conversation. He seemed to understand what Hinata was implying, although his reaction was more of a shrug.

The scene didn’t go unnoticed by Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, who had also approached out of curiosity. Hinata, always the first to spread rumors, whispered the same thing to both of them. Yamaguchi covered his mouth to hold back a nervous laugh, but Tsukishima didn’t react immediately. His gaze darkened as he watched the interaction between you and Kenma, the slight flush on your face, and the calm with which the Nekoma blond stayed by your side.

"Ridiculous," Tsukishima muttered, adjusting his glasses with a sharp motion before stepping forward toward you.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice laced with false calm, "I think Coach Ukai is looking for you." He placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you forward while looking at you with an almost challenging intensity. "He might need your help."

You couldn’t help but let a hint of doubt show in your eyes. It didn’t sound convincing, but still, the pressure of his hand on your shoulder pushed you to take a few steps forward. "Really?" you asked, your tone revealing more skepticism than certainty.

Tsukishima, however, didn’t seem to be shaken. "Yeah," he responded with a calculated softness, though his expression wasn’t entirely honest. "You know how he is. Better go before he gets in a bad mood."

With a resigned sigh, you finally decided to follow him, stealing one last glance at Kenma before he walked away without saying a word.

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