#this is the filthiest thing ive written | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

obsessedwhyyes · 2 months ago

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You know what? I'm gonna do a cheeky self-reblog of this.

If you don't promote yourself, who will? 😁

The Learned Observer

Fic Request: Voyeurism

Summary: On a sleepless night, Gale notices the distinct sound of hushed voices outside his tent. It couldn't be you and Astarion… could it? When he decides to take a peek - to satisfy his scholarly curiosity, of course - he gets more than he bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2623 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader, implied Astarion x Gale x Fem!Reader Content: Gale's POV (first person), voyeurism, dry humping, handjob, public sex, male masturbation, a little bit of jealousy.

A/N: Gale, in my humble opinion, would not use the word, “cock.” I cannot express how hard it was to not use the word, "cock" in a smut fic. I frigging love that word. Anyways, writing entirely in Gale’s voice was honestly the most fun mini challenge I’ve set myself so far, and I would gladly do first person BG3 companion POVs again. Thank you, dear anon, for the request!

Another sleepless night.

The orb pulses beneath my skin, each throb a reminder of my predicament.

I implore my mind to wander to the events of our journey, to the challenges that lie ahead, in pursuit of a worthwhile distraction. But the orb’s hunger grows stronger, like a raging maelstrom, each tribute to its insistent pull a mere ripple against the tide of its endless consumption. Perhaps I should consult the others about–

… Voices drift from outside my tent before I can finish my thoughts. Curious.

Hushed laughter and whispered words. Astarion's distinctive timbre and… you.

The sound is soft, subtle - a quiet exchange. Yet, here I am, catching fragments of something private, something perhaps not intended for outside ears.

I shift, the faintest spark of curiosity pulling me from my solitude. It's innocent, surely - a late-night conversation, perhaps a shared joke. And yet, as the moments pass, I can't ignore the intimacy in your laughter, the way Astarion's voice drops to that silken murmur he reserves for his attempts at enticement.

Just a glance, I tell myself. Merely to understand what could be so amusing at this hour.

Slowly, carefully, I draw back a sliver of canvas, just enough to peek through.

My breath catches as my eyes adjust to the firelight outside. There, on the other side of the campfire, resting against a fallen log, you sit beside him, close - very close - your faces inches apart.

Your legs are entwined, and there’s an intensity in the way you look at each other. I’m taken aback by the hunger in the kiss that follows - one neither timid nor restrained. Your hands begin to explore each other with what I can only call fervour - the kind of urgency I hadn't known either of you possessed, let alone with each other.

The way you move together speaks of raw desire rather than tender affection - this is clearly a new physical relationship.

When did this start? How did I miss the signs? Though perhaps I was too caught up in my own concerns to notice the lingering glances, the way you always seemed to find reasons to be near each other…

I tell myself it’s simple curiosity that keeps me here, observing. A certain academic interest, if you will. After all, Astarion has always been something of a hedonist - a man who indulges in his desires with a recklessness I sometimes envy, though rarely approve. But to see him like this - in action, as it were - offers a unique perspective on his character.

You murmur something I cannot make out, a teasing lilt in your voice, and Astarion laughs in that rakish, honeyed tone of his, as though thrilled to have you so wholly entranced. His hands grip your waist, and with a practised grace, he pulls you into his lap, the hem of your skirt spilling around you both. As his hands settle on your hips, you grind against what I can only assume to be a prominent hardness in his trousers, judging by the satisfied smirk on his face.

You seem eager, pliant under his touch, responding in ways I confess I hadn’t thought you capable of - no, not like this. Not with him.

My heart hammers in my chest, a tension spreading through me that’s… increasingly difficult to ignore. And yet, I remind myself, this is mere observation, nothing more. A clinical exercise in understanding the intricacies of interpersonal attractions between a vampire and a mortal; the undercurrent of danger that befalls such an arrangement.

He holds you with a blend of confidence and entitlement that borders on decadent, his mouth at your neck, lips brushing against your skin with a maddening leisure that’s somehow indulgent and teasing all at once. His fangs linger there and, for a moment, my heart stops - surely he wouldn’t… Ah, no. No, he’s not feeding. He merely kisses your neck, fangs scraping lightly against your throat - close enough to tempt and tantalise. I see the goosebumps flare on your skin.

He whispers something low and unintelligible, and you let out a soft giggle, yielding in a way that speaks of trust - trust that’s he’s earned, somehow, despite his nature.

And then your hand drifts between you both, touching him through his trousers.

Gosh. I hadn’t thought you so bold.

Astarion’s body arches into your touch, his gaze darkening as he watches you with a hunger that’s both terrifying and… strangely beautiful. I find myself entranced, my breath shallow as I observe the way your fingers trace over him, the way he leans into you. The noise he makes when your fingers flex, squeezing him gently over the fabric… Gracious.

There’s a strange, reluctant curiosity building within me. I should look away. I should grant you both the privacy you likely assume you have. And yet, my gaze remains fixed, drawn to the details of your encounter: the way his hands tighten on your waist, the way your breaths synchronise, the way he murmurs softly into your ear…

I am aware - painfully so - of the ache low in my body that has built with each passing moment, each glance, each touch. I am no stranger to restraint - I have spent years tempering my desires, sacrificing comforts in the pursuit of knowledge, of power. Yet, here, now, I feel that restraint begin to falter; to dissolve like ink in water, dispersing until it is all but unrecognisable. It has been so long, after all. So, so long.

When your hands move to the waistband of his trousers, my breath catches. Gods above, surely you won't, not out in the open... but yes. Yes, it seems you will.

When you pull him free, well - I’ve always wondered about vampire physiology, purely academically, of course. But the sight of him prompts rather less scholarly thoughts. He’s impressively endowed - perhaps it is wishful thinking to believe that this is but another gift of his condition. It’s fascinating how vampiric transformation affects every part of the body - he’s almost luminescent in the firelight, every inch of him perfect and unmarred. I notice the veins that trace along his length, faintly visible beneath his skin. He is, even now, a study in confidence, exuding a subtle power that one can only achieve when utterly comfortable in one’s own skin.

Your hand wraps around him, sliding up and down his length at a teasing pace, drawing forth a sound I have never heard our pale companion make - a soft, broken gasp, caught somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It sounds almost reluctant, as though he hadn’t meant for such a sound to slip past his lips. He twitches under your ministrations, and his grip on your hips tightens enough that there will surely be bruises tomorrow.

My fingers rest at my thigh, trembling ever so slightly. A small part of me - a remnant of reason, perhaps - tells me to pull back, to look away, to let this moment pass without surrendering to the need that has taken root within me. But my body, the traitorous thing it is, does not heed such commands. Instead, I find my hand drifting lower.

My fingers trace over the fabric of my trousers, over the aching hardness beneath. A gentle palming, barely enough to ease the tension that coils tighter with each passing moment as I watch the scene unfold.

Your hands elicit quiet murmurs from Astarion that grow deeper and more insistent with each passing moment. For a moment, the two of you share a look - one of conspiratorial mischief, perhaps - and then a soft, shared giggle, the sound mingling with the crackling of the fire.

You're so utterly engrossed in him; so utterly unselfconscious.

You shift, a question in your eyes, and as he nods, giving his assent, you rise just enough to shift, positioning yourself over him. Your skirts drape around you both, providing a veneer of modesty, though there's no mistaking what follows when you sink yourself down on to him. The way your lips part in a gasp as he enters you, the way his head falls back with a victorious grin - it makes the tightness, the great ache between my legs, almost unbearable.

I find my hand slipping beneath my waistband.

Just a little relief, I tell myself. Just enough to ease this maddening tension.

There is a certain poetry to it, I suppose - this surrender to the pleasures of the flesh. I allow myself to imagine, as my hand finds the throbbing heat of my arousal, what it might feel to be in your place, to have someone look at me with that same confidence, to experience touch imbued with the certainty of one who knows precisely how to elicit pleasure - a knowledge gleaned from centuries, no doubt, of indulgence and conquest.

It’s enough to leave me aching for more than mere observation.

The fervour with which you move against him… it’s hypnotic, each roll of your hips drawing forth increasingly wanton sounds from you both. Astarion's carefully crafted demeanour gives way to something more roguish, a playful daring that glints in his eyes as you rise and fall and rise and fall on his length.

I find my hand instinctively matching your rhythm, every shift and motion, as though I, too, am bound to the undulating tempo that you and Astarion have created.

Gods… what must it be like to be him? To have someone so openly, eagerly drawn to you, meeting every touch with matching fervour? To hold someone close and feel their raw desire, the thrill of each laugh, each gasp, offered without hesitation? I wonder what it must be like to inspire such a response, to be desired so freely, without need for pretence or restraint?

With Mystra, I was ever the pursuer, striving tirelessly to earn even the barest hint of her approval, each moment together feeling like an examination I desperately hoped to pass. But Astarion… well. He needn't chase or convince. Despite his vampiric nature - or perhaps, in part, because of it - he is simply desired, freely given all that I once had to beg for. The inequity of it all would be rather poetic, if it weren't so personally vexing.

“A-ah!”

Your gasp cuts through my ruminations, pulling me back into the scene.

Astarion’s hand has slipped between you, guiding you to that final crescendo with a practised touch. The sight of it is utterly spellbinding: his fingers moving with a precision that speaks to centuries of experience, knowing just where to press, where to linger. The control he exercises over you is enviable, each movement of his hand coaxing you closer to that peak, his attention wholly focused on your reaction, even as your hips rock back and forth on his length with an increasingly frantic, unrestrained urgency.

The way your eyes roll back... Gosh.

The expression on your face, one of pure, unfiltered abandon, is a sight to behold.

Your body trembles as you reach your peak, and a sound - a cry, too loud in the stillness of the night - escapes your lips. Astarion’s palm clamps over your mouth, a futile attempt to muffle you in the throes of your climax. Though he hushes you, his expression suggests that he is not in the least bit concerned. In fact, he seems rather pleased - more than pleased, really.

There’s a thrill in such a public display for him too, no doubt.

I swallow, the sound almost too loud, my heart pounding against my ribs as though it seeks to betray me. Astarion's head tilts slightly, his gaze flickering to the shadows, and for one heart-stopping moment, I think he has sensed me, that his attention has shifted from you to this invisible interloper, the scholar caught red-handed in his quiet act of voyeurism.

Could he... sense me here, lingering on the fringe of his private moment? Could he smell the stir of my own arousal, feel the faint tremor of my breath as I fight for composure? For several heartbeats, my hand freezes. I dare not even breathe.

But then his attentions return to you, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

He brings his hands to your hips, holding them firmly in place as he drives himself upwards into you, deeper, with mounting desperation. It seems he seeks to chase his own release, content with the pleasure he has wrought you.

You respond eagerly, pressing closer, your own sounds growing louder, heedless of who might hear, and I can see that thrill in his face - the satisfaction of knowing he’s eliciting every reaction from you, drawing out each gasp, each shudder.

My hand glides hastily across my arousal, my own breathing growing ragged as I watch his control begin to slip. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his head tips back in pure abandon.

In the final throes, he presses himself against you, buried firmly to the hilt. It’s almost animalistic, all thoughts, all calculated movements, making way for one singular goal: to empty himself into you, filling you with all he has to offer with breaths rugged and low. All composure is stripped, replaced with instinct and pure need.

I find my own movements quickening to match his pace, as though some invisible thread binds us all to this moment. My hand tightens as I lose myself in the same tempo, every sound from you both spurring me closer. The sight of his final shudder, the look of utter satisfaction crossing his face as he reaches that height, is enough to tip me over the edge.

For a heartbeat, the night seems to hold us all in perfect suspension - your quiet gasps, his satisfied murmurs, my own silent echo of shared pleasure - all woven together in this clandestine tableau.

Only then, as the euphoria begins to fade, does a most uncomfortable awareness creep in.

Gods above, what have I... A scholar of worldly acclaim, reduced to voyeur, caught up in base desires like some common... No. Best not to dwell on such things. Though I suspect sleep will prove rather elusive tonight, haunted by questions of propriety and... other matters.

With a groan, I roll onto my back, the orb’s steady throb now a minor annoyance compared to the tangled thoughts that flood my mind. Perhaps I can chalk this entire… incident up to fatigue, a wandering mind, even a fevered dream. Yes, that must be it. The product of a restless night and, possibly, a touch of indigestion. After all, who could believe that I, Gale of Waterdeep, would be brought so low as to... well, that.

As morning light spills across camp, I attempt a façade of normalcy, willing my cheeks to cool and my mind to settle. Just as I convince myself the night’s events were nothing more than a peculiar dream, Astarion sidles up, his expression one of leisurely amusement.

"Restless night, Gale?” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. His gaze is as sharp as his tone, a knowing glint in his eyes that makes my stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way. "I thought I heard a... stirring from your tent."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in that infuriatingly smug way of his, and I nearly choke on my response.

He knew.

Astarion knew.

I force a cough, pretending to inspect the morning sky.

"A dream," I reply a bit too quickly. "Perhaps the cheese at dinner was... overly ripe."

But Astarion merely chuckles, a wicked sound, before strolling away with a satisfied air. And as I watch him saunter off, I’m left to question just how much of the night was a dream - and how much, mortifyingly, was very, very real.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat @davenswitcher @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard @chonkercatto @stokzr @trafalgarussy @asterordinary

#it took a while for me to become happy with it but then i re-read it for the first time since i uploaded it #and now im like you know what you're alright #just needed fresh eyes #i still maintain that this is the filthiest thing ive written though good lord

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honeekyuu · 6 months ago

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love affair. [tsukishima kei x f!reader] chapter three.

>>The unsavory reputation that Tsukishima Kei has built for himself as the Sendai Frogs' rudest rookie puts his upcoming contract renewal at risk

Tsukki really needs a girlfriend, and you really need everyone to stop calling you his pathetic, pining best friend<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist.

a/n: dont talk to me about that scene after he wakes up and gets angry in her bed okay dont fucking talk to me about it,,,,, that was the filthiest non-smut scene ive ever written

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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Kei stays at your apartment until the end of the semester.

He goes home a couple times a week, of course – he has to do laundry, and he and Yamaguchi have a pre-set Tuesday night plan of sitting on the couch and playing video games until it’s late enough that Tadashi almost always sleeps through his first class on Wednesdays.

But… he somehow finds himself in your bed every other night of the week.

The first two weeks or so, he comes up with excuses.

‘ It’s getting cold, and your heating hasn’t kicked in yet. ’

‘ If I go home this late, it’ll wake Yamaguchi. ’

‘ We’re going out in the morning, anyway. It only makes sense. ’

He does it until, one morning, you roll over and lean your chin on his chest, looking up at him with those doe eyes he likes so much.

‘ You do realize I’ve already agreed to let you keep staying here, right? We talked about it that first morning.’

He’d remembered. He just hadn’t been sure if you’d meant it. But since you’d brought it up again, he’d stopped asking. He’d just allowed himself to get used to falling asleep and waking up next to you.

It makes sleeping on his own for two nights a week utter hell. He can’t get to sleep no matter what he tries. The only thing that works is falling asleep on a video call with you, like a stupid, lovesick teenager. He’s terrified you’ll tell Kiyoko, who would immediately tell Yamaguchi, who would never let him live it down. But it seems you’re just as shy about it, about the fact that you’ve become dependent on each other to do something as simple as sleep.

And sleep is all you do. He’s never dared to cross a line with you in bed. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t try anything, not there, and he’s stuck to it. He lets himself kiss you stupid on the couch before bed, and in your kitchen when you make him coffee before class, and against the wall of your bathroom when your outfit and makeup look a little too good on you.

But never in bed. It’s too tempting – you’re too tempting. And you have no fucking clue.

You just prance around your apartment in those stupid little shorts, with your stupid little smile and that stupid little way you say his name–

‘ Tsukki!’, your giggle excited and your eyes bright.

‘Hey, Tsukki-’, your tone distracted while you sort through mail.

‘Tsukki…’, your eyes wide and your voice whiny while you ask him for something.

It drives him crazy. It makes him want to grab your face and kiss the pout right off your mouth. It makes him want to buy and do anything you want, even when you want nothing at all. It makes him want to whisper your name and admit things that he shouldn’t.

But nothing makes him want to do any of those things more than when you say his name properly, with a little edge in your voice.

‘ Tsukishima.’ , your hands on your hips and your eyebrows arched in annoyance.

‘I swear, Tsukishima- ’, your breath sharp and shallow because you’re stopping yourself from picking a fight.

‘ Tsukishima… ’, your lips close and your eyes twinkling with amusement, because you remember the things he’d been drunk enough to admit at that party.

When the syllables of his name stack in your mouth like that, he’s overcome with thoughts that one should never have about a friend. Thoughts of pinning you up against the wall and daring you to say his name like that again. Thoughts of bending you over the side of the couch and showing you just how in charge you really are. Thoughts of kissing you in that tiny bed, and then making you cry in it, your face buried in the sheets and his name – ‘ Tsukki, please- ’ – whined so prettily.

But he doesn’t do any of that. He just watches you use his name in that scolding, reprimanding way, and he smiles. He sits there and smiles and pretends that every fiber of his very being isn’t aching to show you how to use that smart ass mouth of yours.

And yet, despite the torture, he stays. He stays, waking up next to you every morning and enduring the pain of your presence, and he has no idea why. Maybe it’s the way you hum to yourself while you make breakfast and wince when your coffee’s too hot, because it somehow always is. Maybe it’s the way you think aloud when you do chores, your grocery list rattled off while you stand in the corner folding laundry. Maybe it’s the way you gravitate toward him as if on some biological clock, every half hour marked by your fingers combing through his hair while he works or your arms wrapping around him from behind while he’s putting his shoes on to leave for practice.

Maybe it’s the way you treat him exactly the same but completely different.

You’re the girl he’s always known, rolling those pretty little eyes and telling him without hesitation when he’s being an idiot. You still judge him when he says stupid shit, and you’re still strong about your boundaries and your ability to hold a grudge. But… something’s different.

You sit closer lately, your legs draped over his knee and your side pressed against his. You let him kiss you even when you’re mad, and sometimes – sometimes — that’s all it takes to get you to forgive him. You call him on your way home from class – not because you have anything specific to say, but because you simply feel like talking his ear off while you walk.

He’s not sure which of these things is the reason he stays, but he thinks about every single one. He thinks about them, and he seeks them out. He calls you on the days that you forget to call him yourself. He takes his headphones off if he sees you go into the kitchen, because the chance of hearing you hum off-key is high. He gravitates to you when you’re too immersed in work to pay attention to him, his body draping over yours. He pulls you into the spot between his legs when you watch TV, because sometimes, having your legs hooked over his knee isn’t enough. Sometimes, he wants your back against his chest and your thighs in his hands, your head against his shoulder and your breathing synchronized with his own.

God, he thinks he’s obsessed with you.

Maybe that’s why – on Friday nights, when Yamaguchi and Kiyoko come over – his roommate always looks at him a little too long, the freckled boy staring in suspicion. Tadashi plays along with Kiyoko’s jokes about the two of you, but his eyes are always narrowed when no one’s looking, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips before he looks away. And, when Kei inevitably mumbles that he’ll be staying the night instead of going home with Yamaguchi, maybe that’s why his roommate always meets his eyes evenly, like he’d been expecting it.

Maybe that’s why, on a Saturday morning in mid-December, he finally gets tired of watching your body insecurity get in the way of everything. In the way of that stupid little smile he’s starting to fall for, in the way of the sweet way you say his name. In the way of you seeing how painfully obvious it is that he’s obsessed with you.

It’s that Saturday morning in mid-December that he finally loses his mind, in that tiny bed with you.

–

He wakes on that cold morning to you shifting beside him, wrapped up in his arms. Your back is pressed to his chest, one of his arms wrapped snugly around your middle and the other tucked under your head. You wriggle against him, and, in his half-groggy state, he genuinely wonders if you’re trying to start something with him (later, he chalks that one up to wishful thinking).

You shift again, your hips moving under his arm, and he hums.

“‘s up?” He says, sighing into your hair and pulling you tighter against him. You curve your back protectively when he does, one of your hands coming down on his wrist.

“Uhm,” You mumble. “Can you… Uhm-”

It’s the discomfort in your voice that clues him into the fact that something’s going on with you.

He peels one eye open and examines you, and, when he still doesn’t understand what’s happening, he opens his other eye and lifts his head. You’re holding your phone with one hand, the screen displaying a comment posted under a photo of the two of you.

[8:54 AM] keisgirl : is it me, or is she gaining weight?????

It’s one of the most-liked comments, with the replies underneath it varying from neutral agreement to outright hateful bullshit.

You haven’t realized that he’s seen your phone. “Could you let me go, please?” You ask, in a voice so small and vulnerable that he’s tempted to listen to you. But he doesn’t, because he knows what this is. This is you falling back in on yourself, closing your body off to him because you don’t want him to touch or look at you.

He sits up quickly, ignoring the noise of surprise you make when his arm slides out from under your head. He snatches your phone away and turns his back to you, scrolling through the comments.

“Tsukki-” You say, recovering and sitting up. You press your chest to his shoulder, reaching for your phone, but he just brushes your hand away, shamelessly pulling up the rest of your open tabs. He knows he shouldn’t, but he needs to check.

Unfortunately, he knows you a little too well.

The Trajectory of Frogs’ Tsukishima Kei’s Relationship with Plus-Sized Girlfriend: Will They Last?

Y/l/n Y/n: In Love or Gold-Digging?

How to Lose Weight in Time for the Holidays

30 Pounds in 30 Days: New Diet Takes World by Storm

Kei’s not sure he’s ever been this angry before. He stares emptily down at your phone, finally letting you pluck it out of his open palm. His hands shake just slightly, and he knows you can see them by how still you are.

“ Tsukki, ” You whisper after a moment. “I-”

“Are you out of your mind?” He says, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I just-”

He whirls on you, eyes alight. “Are you out of your mind , Y/n?” He jabs a finger at your phone. “What are you gonna do, starve yourself because of something that someone on the internet said?”

“It’s not just one person,” You argue weakly. “I’ve been gaining wei-”

“So?” He barks. “So what? I can’t tell.”

You roll your eyes, and he actually feels his eye twitch. “I think you’re a little biased, Tsukki-”

“No,” He says. Laughs, because you’re really going to make him lose it this time. “No, I’m not biased. I’m important.” He rips your phone from your hand again, dropping it on the nightstand as he turns in place and climbs over you. “After everything, you still listen to a bunch of shitheads who know nothing about you. And then you call me biased, because I have an accurate fucking opinion about how you look.”

You gasp when he puts a hand on your shoulder, shoving you down on the mattress. He grabs your thighs and pries them open, settling himself between them. “Why did you want me to let you go, Y/n?”

You swallow hard. “I… I don’t know-”

“You didn’t want me to touch you. Why?” He anchors his hands to your waist, dragging you toward him. “Did you think I was suddenly going to change my mind if I could feel your body? That I was going to feel you under my hands and realize that I was repulsed by you? That I only like you with your clothes on, that I hadn’t considered what might be under them? Is that what you were scared of?”

You don’t answer him for a moment, so he grips your hips tight, his thumbs sure to leave prints on your skin later. “Yes,” You whisper finally, shutting your eyes. “I just… don’t feel pretty-”

“Look at me,” He says, a heated sigh leaving him. You don’t, so he tugs on your thighs hard. “ Look at me, Y/n.”

You pry your eyes open, staring into his own with trepidation.

“Now listen to what I’m about to say to you,” He snaps. “Can you do that, for once ? Or are you going to keep acting stupid? Because I’m not in the habit of having stupid friends.”

Your brow furrows in irritation, and he’s glad to see it. He’s glad to see anything that isn’t that haunting insecurity. He sits back on his heels, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“What you seem to be fundamentally misunderstanding, Y/n-” He growls. “-is the idea that the way you look and the way you’re shaped is something that is, without a doubt, unattractive. You think your body is something that no one would ever want to touch — you don’t seem to fucking comprehend that some people might like the way you feel.”

He squeezes your hips once. “ Some people might like that they can hold you like this – that the more of you that there is, the more that they can hold while they fuck you.” Your face is starting to turn red, and he feels immense pride for it. He anchors himself to you, shifting his weight and dragging you down against his hips, over and over again. “ Some people want to see what your body looks like when it bounces like this, Y/n-” You’re starting to gasp, and Kei’s unable to stop the way his eyes trail down the length of your body while he moves you.

“Some people are obsessed with the idea of making you look like this,” He says, his own breath coming short for a moment. “Because some people want to rail you, and no one could ever look as good getting railed as you would.”

“Tsukki,” You whisper, your chest rising and falling sharply with each gasp. He stops moving you – lets you breathe for just a moment – and slides his hands up your sides, his palms absorbing the heat in your skin while his fingers fan out greedily over your ribs. Your shirt rises with his movement, and he stops when the fabric is bunched up under your breasts. His fingertips skim the skin there, notably missing that lacy underwire that’s always kept him at bay.

He’d noticed that you don’t wear a bra to bed – of course you don’t, that would be unreasonable to expect, even with him here – but fuck, if he isn’t just now realizing what that means. He chews on the inside of his bottom lip, eyeing you hungrily.

The moment to breathe seems to have been enough for you, because your fingers close around his wrists. His first thought is that you’re stopping him from going further, that maybe he should back off. But you don’t push him away.

If anything, your eyes seem glazed over with desire, your breath still coming a little short.

“ Tsukki ,” You breathe, shifting your hips against his carefully — there’s no way you can’t feel how hard he is right now. Your voice is quiet, like before, but now there’s more. More, like you want him to keep talking to you.

He can do that.

“Do you believe me yet?” He says. His voice shakes with his breath, and he swallows hard to hide how you’re affecting him. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

When you don’t answer him this time, he can’t tell if it’s because you really don’t have an answer, or if it’s because you’re fucking with him. Because the way your eyes drag down his body – the way you open your thighs an inch more and press your hips against his gently, an invitation – makes him think you might be fucking with him.

“I’m just,” You mumble, your legs starting to wrap around his waist. “I dunno, Tsukki.”

You must be fucking with him.

“No?” He says, his hands sliding down to hook under your thighs and peel them off of him. Your eyes widen, his own narrowing. He extracts himself from between your legs, as much as he doesn’t want to, and tosses your legs sideways onto the bed. You gasp, alarmed, and he grips your waist, hoisting you up by force and turning you over. You scramble to catch yourself, your hands and knees hitting the mattress.

“What-”

Kei sits up behind you, finding his place on your hips again and yanking you back. Your ass presses against him, and he holds you there, no matter how hard you wriggle. Your heavy breathing is audible, and he’s thankful for it, because the way you’re moving against him is not making his own breath very quiet at all.

“Still not sure, sweetheart?” He says, flattening a hand against your back and pushing down on it. You collapse on your elbows with a yelp, and he slides his fingers up and takes a fistful of your hair. “How about this-” He snaps his hips forward, feeling his thighs slap against yours and your ass ripple from the force. You choke out a moan, and he does it again, against his better judgment.

“You think the right guy wouldn’t die to feel you like this, Y/n? You think he wouldn’t do anything for a chance to make you sound like this?”

You moan again in response, and his stomach flips with excitement – because the syllables that had just stacked in your mouth were undeniably those of his own name.

He rocks his hips into yours again as he uses his hold on your hair to yank you up. Your breath catches in your throat, and you lift up blindly, so trusting and sweet while he pulls you back against his chest.

“What was that, princess?” He says, breathless and embarrassingly eager. “What’d you say?”

Your lips purse, and he knows he was right, because you’re looking up at him with embarrassment. He releases your hair, his hand coming down to wrap around the column of your throat. He stares down into your eyes, feeling your pulse skip under his palm.

“ Again, Y/n ,” He whispers, watching goosebumps break out over your skin. Two syllables fill your mouth, the same he’d heard the first time.

“ Tsukki.”

He’s so fucked.

Releasing you, he plants a hand on your back and shoves you onto your stomach, handling you roughly as he turns you back around. He clambers between your legs, relishing the way your thighs open and wrap around his waist, so welcoming. He cages you in, hovering over you as he stares. You stare back, eyes wide and breath short.

And then he stops, because he knows he should.

He has to.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, eyes searching your face. You seem taken aback by his question, your brow furrowing.

And then you blink, and your eyes clear.

And, for all that he’s silently begging you to say yes – begging for this to be such a simple choice for you – he’s glad he asked. Because he can see the realization starting to hit you. That this will go somewhere, somewhere fast and irreversible, if you say yes.

You swallow, and then your eyes look away from his, and he takes that as his answer.

“Okay,” He sighs, hanging his head. “Okay.” He starts to lift away from you, but your hands are on his biceps.

“Wait.” You search him anxiously. “Tsukki, I- I just…”

“I know,” He says, nodding. He’s a little disappointed — mostly just a little hard and more than a little horny — but there’s no world in which he’d rather you do something you’re not sure about. “It’s okay. I know. That’s why I asked.”

You look like you want to cry. “Are you mad at me?”

He glares down at you. “Seriously?”

“I feel like I led you on-”

“Y/n, of course I’m not fucking mad at you.” He sighs, slowly extracting himself from between your thighs and sitting beside you. “I’m not that guy-”

“I know!” You sit up on your knees, hands on his shoulders. “I know, Tsukki. I just… Are we good?”

He laughs tiredly, dropping his head back against the wall. “ Yes , Y/n. We’re good. I’m not gonna make you do something you’re not ready for.”

You shake him. “But are we good, Tsukki? Us?”

He looks at you, taking you in. You look so scared. And as much as he wants to yell at you, to snap at you for being this worried that he would be upset with you over this, he knows he can’t. Not when you’re this scared.

“Will you please stop listening to other people? I really can’t keep doing this. I mean it this time,” He says. You pause, and then you nod. He lifts his brows. “You believe me? You trust me?”

You give him a shy laugh, your face radiating heat. “I think you kind of… made it clear what you think. I believe you, Tsukki.”

He tries to fight the blush that’s rising. He’d really lost his mind there. “Then, yes,” is all he says, pushing your hair behind your ear and taking your face in one hand. “We’re good. I promise.”

You sniffle, but you nod, and the doe eyes you give him make his heart skip. “Okay. Thank you. I… I’ll be ready soon, I swear-”

“You don’t have to promise me something like that, Y/n. You don’t have to be ready soon, and it doesn’t even have to be me.” He bumps his forehead against yours, the closest he can come right now to shaking you in frustration.

“It’ll be you,” You admit, glancing away nervously. Kei thinks his heart actually stops in his chest when he hears that.

“You’re… Are you sure?” He says, barely a whisper. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You just laugh, watery and sweet and perfectly capable of killing him where he sits. “Of course it’ll be you. Don’t be stupid.”

“ Me? ” He can’t help but laugh, sharp and full of disbelief. “You’re telling me not to be stupid? Are you joking?”

When he ropes you into his arms and starts berating you for being stupid, you only giggle and let him, and he thinks — not to be dramatic or anything — that he might just do anything to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

He’s so fucked.

–

He goes home later that day, to get some more clothes and because Tadashi’s going home for Christmas.

When he enters the townhouse – brushing off the paparazzi at the gate asking if he plans to move in with you since he’s spending so much time at your place – he finds his roommate rushing around the house in a flurry of open suitcases and screaming.

“Uh-” Kei ducks as a pair of boxers goes flying over his head. “Are you okay ?”

“ I overslept! ” Yamaguchi screeches from upstairs. “ I stayed on the phone with Lev too late last night, and now I’m going to miss the train! ”

Kei lifts his brows, finding a safe place in the armchair and watching the destruction unfold in their living room. “So… things are good with him, then?” Yamaguchi had been on a few dates with the aspiring model since Halloween, and Kei had heard him talking recently about officially seeing him. “Gonna introduce him to your family soon?”

“ You shut your ass! ” Tadashi yells. “ I’d say the same about you and Y/n, but your family already knows her! Didn’t she have a massive crush on Aki when we were kids?! ”

Kei flushes, scrubbing at his brow. “We’re not dating, Dashi,” He murmurs. “And, yes, she did. It was annoying.” Tadashi reenters the room at a high speed, flying down the stairs with clothes piled high in his arms.

“You sure about that?”

“About the two years she was convinced she would marry my brother? Yes, I’m sure.”

“About you dating, dumbass.”

Kei sighs. “I know. I’m sure about that, too.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me or Kiyoko.” His roommate shrugs, reconsidering one of his shirts and tossing it on the couch.

“Yeah?” Kei laughs nervously. “How’s it look?”

“Looks like you’re madly in love with her, to be really honest-” Tadashi cuts off, seeing Kei pick up the throw pillow behind him. “ Don’t give me brain damage right now, please. I’m too busy.”

“I’m not in love with her,” Kei mumbles, setting the pillow in his lap.

“Dude, you’re obsessed with her.” Tadashi sits on his pile of clothes, shoving it into his suitcase with his ass. “You’d bottle her farts and smell them throughout the day if you could.”

“You’re really romantic, you know that? Lev into that kinda thing?” Kei says, growing frustrated. He knows he’s obsessed with you. He knows . He’d all but admitted it to you in bed this morning.

“Look,” Tadashi says, running into the bathroom and throwing literal bottles out the door and across the length of the living room. Kei watches, impressed, as he racks up a high success rate of getting them in his suitcase. “You’re staying at her place all the time, you only come home to get clothes-”

“And for our Tuesday nights!”

“-you fall asleep on the phone with her if you do sleep here-”

“Who told you that!”

“-and your face turns a really weird shade of red whenever I bring this up.” Tadashi points at him now. “Kinda like that.”

It is rather warm in here.

“Just think about it,” Tadashi continues, slamming his suitcase shut and zipping it up with shockingly minimal struggle. “You have all of Christmas Break. Kiyoko’s busy with Kyoutani, and I won’t be here, so you don’t need to come home at all.” He stands the suitcase up with a huff and then stares down at it with hands on his hips, proud of his work. “Kiyoko tells me Y/n’s also having a hard time.”

Kei perks up, following him to the foyer and watching him put his coat on. The words ‘ it’ll be you ’ float through his head, and it’s suddenly a lot warmer in here. “What’d she say?”

Yamaguchi eyes him. “Exactly what I just told you. That you two are acting like idiots who don’t know how to speak to each other.” He rolls his suitcase to the door. “Stop dancing around each other and make this official. Not labeling things is going to end up with one or both of you heartbroken.”

So you had talked to Kiyoko about this.

Yamaguchi leans in, squeezing Kei in a tight hug and then slapping him on the back. “Go get ‘em, Tiger-er. Frog.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Kei staring at the front door with a mumbled ‘ have a safe trip ’ echoing in the empty foyer.

–

Tsukki stays with you through Christmas.

After that morning in your bed, you have an irrational worry that – when he goes home to say bye to Yamaguchi – he might never come back. You pace your apartment for an hour after he’s gone, eventually calling Kiyoko to freak out. You severely regret that decision, because she spends the better half of another hour laughing in your ear about how you’d almost fucked your best friend. She does calm down, eventually, and it’s to remind you that Tsukki’s never lied to you.

He’s never lied to you, and he’d told you he wasn’t mad at you, so you have to believe him. You have to believe him about everything , because that’s all he’s asking of you.

So you hang up the phone, wishing Kiyoko ‘ good luck and good fucking ’ before she leaves for a date with Kyoutani, and you sit on the couch with the TV on. You stare at the screen and pretend to know what’s happening, only checking your phone sixteen times over the course of another few hours. And when there’s a knock at your door, you only pounce off the couch before catching yourself, managing not to run all the way to the door.

And, God, are you glad that you did everything you could to remain calm. Because, when you open the door, Tsukki’s standing there holding dinner and looking through his duffel bag like he’s checking that he didn’t forget anything. He’s standing there, completely normal, like you hadn’t all but asked him to fuck you and then promptly rejected him only hours earlier.

He just looks at you, hair dusted with snow and nose tipped red from the cold, and asks if you’re okay. Because you’re just standing there staring at him like it’s Christmas morning, not letting him in. You do let him in, and you eat dinner together, and then you go to bed together. And you’re scared that being in that bed with him again might be awkward, but he just climbs sleepily between your legs and falls asleep with his head on your chest.

It doesn’t come up again until Christmas Day.

—

On Christmas morning, you wake to the conflicting smell of coffee and something burning. Sitting up, you look directly into the kitchen, seeing smoke and a towel waving through the air.

“What are you doing?” You gasp, rolling out of bed and rushing over to where Tsukki is coughing and waving his arms.

“My fucking best!” He sputters, fanning a hand in front of his face. “What does it look like?”

You round the bar, yanking the smoking pan off the stove and dumping its contents in the trash. You roll your eyes when he whines ‘ my beautiful breakfast’ somewhere behind you. “What were you trying to make?”

“Eggs,” He grumbles, and you can’t help but shoot him an amused grin.

“Finally, something the Great Tsukishima Kei absolutely sucks at.”

“I suck at most things that aren’t volleyball and school.”

“Well, thank God for that,” You snicker, throwing the pan back on the stove and turning to plant a kiss on his mouth. “If you’re gonna be good at something, I would hope it’d be your job .”

He grumbles briefly but just wraps his arms around your waist and follows you around the kitchen, severely interfering with your ability to cook an actual breakfast.

“Speaking of my job…” He starts, his voice muffled in your shoulder. “I think they’re supposed to let me know soon about the contract.”

You turn in his arms, setting the carton of eggs down. “Really? When?”

“Dunno. But it’s the end of the year, so…” He looks indifferent about it, but you can see that he’s worried that they haven’t said anything so close to New Year’s Eve.

“Okay. I’m sure they’re just finalizing things, that’s all.” You card your fingers through his hair and pull him in, kissing him gently. “Do you wanna go out tonight? For dinner?”

He smiles against your mouth. “You askin’ me on a Christmas date? So cliche, princess.”

There’s no amount of money in the world that could make you admit to him how fluttery those words make you. You just kiss him again, letting him back you into the counter.

“Maybe,” You mumble. “Pick a place. My treat.”

“You’re funny,” His mouth drops to your neck. “Thinking I’d ever let you pay for anything while I’m around.”

“You let me pay for coffee that one day,” You argue pointlessly, your breath short from the way he’s nibbling on your skin.

“That’s because you’re a two-faced liar who hides the important things in a relationship.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You coo jokingly. “Can I make it up to you?”

He groans, laughing after. “You know exactly how that sounded.”

“Yep,” You say, finally pushing him off of you and returning to the eggs on the counter. “Pick somewhere nice for dinner. It’s Christmas!”

He grumbles through the morning, your giggles filling the rest of the air, and you exchange gifts after breakfast. You’d made him a photo album of all the most ridiculous pictures you’ve taken together over the last few months. He’d gotten you a necklace that he’d watched you ogle in the window every single time you’d passed by, always claiming that it was too expensive and that you didn’t need it, anyway. He helps you put it on – kissing down the curve of your neck and over your shoulders and whispering that you’re even prettier now – and you sit in his lap with the photo album open, trying your very hardest not to kiss him silly every time he laughs that bright, genuine laugh that always makes your heart beat harder.

Around dinnertime, you get ready, asking what kind of restaurant he’d picked and rolling your eyes when all he says is ‘ a nice one ’. You pull out your best dress – a floor-length, wine red little number – and then you watch as Tsukki loses all concentration, his tie dangling pathetically in his hands.

“Ready?” You say, stepping out of bathroom as you finish pinning your hair up. His eyes drag down the length of you, and then he shakes his head dumbly.

“Not even a little bit.”

You make fun of him all the way to his car, brushing your mouth over his in the elevator and watching with a smirk as he fights the urge to chase after you when you pull away.

The dinner goes perfectly – it’s an upscale spot that serves way too little food on plates that are way too big, but Tsukki holds your hand the whole time and looks at you like he’s never looked at you before. It makes you nervous, but he just smiles when you blush, mumbling that he likes that look on your face. You wonder what’s gotten into him, but you decide to let it go in favor of sharing a glass of wine with him and giggling when his face starts to flush from the alcohol.

He’s decently nice to the reporters outside the restaurant, either feeling relaxed from the drink or too busy pulling you away from Nariko, who you’re chatting up with a wine-tinted bubbliness that makes the other reporters scowl. She just squeezes your arm and tell you to have a merry Christmas, and Tsukki busies himself with leading you by the hand down to his car. You don’t see it, but you find out a few hours later on Twitter that he’d pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and stuffed it in Nariko’s hand, telling her to go home to her family for the holidays. The pictures online had all shown Nariko’s awe-stricken face and the jealousy of much meaner reporters who’d never gotten the time of day from Tsukishima Kei.

He takes you to a pizza place down the street after leaving the restaurant, where you split a large supreme pizza and complain about how little food there was at the expensive place. You ask if they charge for air, and he jokes that they probably charge for smelling the food. You crack shitty jokes and fight over the last slice, and then you watch with thinly veiled affection as Tsukki signs the t-shirts of some young boys who’ve run over from the next booth over. He even gives them a small smile when they say he’s their favorite Frogs player, and then he gives you a large one when they turn to you and ask what it’s like to date someone famous.

‘ It’s a pretty sweet gig, ’ You tell them, leaning in conspiratorially. They lean in, too, eyes twinkling. ‘ I get to see a side of him that no one else does. Kind of like having a secret identity.’

They run off, claiming to their mother that Tsukki’s a superhero. Or a spy. They can’t decide.

Tsukki takes you home soon after, intertwining his fingers with yours and running his lips back and forth over your knuckles absentmindedly while he drives. When you get home, you change into sweats and take all your makeup off, realizing only then that Tsukki looks at you the same way even while you stand there in old, ratty clothes and mascara smeared under your eyes.

He just watches you, his eyes flicking away but always coming back, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s with you, tonight, huh?” You finally say, curled up against his side. There’s some trashy movie on, but you can’t bring yourself to focus – not with him sliding his fingertips across the strip of skin that peeks out from under your shirt, over and over again until you start to shiver with each pass.

“Nothing,” He says, glancing down at you and then back at the TV. “Just… I dunno, it’s Christmas.”

You smile up at him, your eyes twinkling. “You’ve never been one for Christmas spirit , Kei.”

“Well, maybe I am now.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s nice to just spend it with you and do nothing else.”

“We spend every Christmas together,” You argue, smiling wider when he just squeezes you.

“‘s different,” He mumbles. You give up on bullying him, your heart warming and your skin prickling with happiness. It is different. Things are different. Every moment with him feels realer than the last, like you could do anything with him because you know it’ll be okay.

You look up at him, examining the way his lips start to tug up when he senses you watching him. Finally, his eyes drop to yours, honey-golden and warm, and you lean up to kiss him.

You barely manage to brush your lips to his when his phone rings in his pocket.

He leans back but keeps his eyes on your mouth while he extracts his phone, not looking at the Caller ID before lifting it to his ear.

“Hello?” He watches your mouth still, distracted.

And then he blinks, eyebrows furrowing as he looks away.

“Okay..?” He says, retracting his arm from your waist and standing slowly. Your heart starts to drop as you watch him pace the space between the couch and your bed. Who is he talking to? Is something wrong?

“Okay,” Tsukki says, blinking rapidly. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” He sighs. “Yeah. That’s-Thank you.”

And then he hangs up, and you watch him stare down at his phone, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Tsukki…?” You whisper after a moment, officially worried. When he looks at you, though, you see it.

The relief in his eyes.

“They’re signing me.” He stares. You stare back. And then his mouth breaks in a smile, and he looks you over. “They’re signing me, Y/n. They’re throwing an event on New Year’s Eve.”

“What?!” You jump over the back of the couch, launching yourself at him. He hoists you up and laughs, that beautiful, bright laugh that you can’t live without now. “Tsukki!” You wrap your legs around his waist, burying your face in his neck and squealing.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, laughing in disbelief. “Holy shit, we did it.” And then, when you lift your head to smile down at him, he uses one hand to grab the back of your head and drag you in for a kiss. “ Fuck, we did it. You did that ,” He mumbles against you. “ Thank you. ”

You shake your head, dropping your legs and kissing him while he sets you down. “ You did that, Tsukki,” You say, turning and heading into the kitchen. “You’re amazing, you know that?” You search through cabinets, extracting two bottles of wine. You brandish them at him with a grin. “We have to celebrate!”

He looks between the two bottles, chewing on his bottom lip, but you see the smile peek through after a second. “Yeah… Yeah, I’d say both bottles are necessary.”

“To celebrate. Properly,” You justify.

His grin is wide now. “Properly.”

–

Celebrating properly ends up – somehow, some way – involving Tsukki’s lips on your throat and his fingers tangled in your hair. He smells like wine, and your head is swimming from him and the alcohol.

You’re laid back on the couch, hair fanning out around you and legs wrapped around him. He’s got his other hand on your waist, inching higher and higher every few seconds and taking your shirt with it.

“ Tsukki ,” You whisper, your fingers locked in his hair and your back arched until your chest presses to his. “ Please. ”

He groans against your throat. “ We can’t ,” He slurs, shaking his head. “‘r not ready-”

You whine, using your grip on his hair to pull his head back up. You kiss him heatedly, moaning when your shirt bunches up around your breasts, his fingers stalling there but sliding hesitantly under the hem.

“Doesn’t have to be-” Your breath stutters, because his hips are moving unconsciously against yours, and you can feel how hard he is. “Doesn’t have to be everything-”

He seems to like that answer, his kiss growing rushed. “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah-yes-” You nod furiously. “Please. Please. ”

He sighs roughly, pulling away from you and sitting up. You barely have time to breathe before you’re being lifted through the air and dragged into his lap. You gasp, your head spinning, as he turns you quickly in place. Your back slams against his chest, and his mouth drops to the junction of your throat.

You reach up, carding your fingers through his hair. “Tsukki,” You sigh, feeling his heart beating against your back. He slides his arms around your waist.

“You’re sure?” He asks again, his voice low and humming through your skin. You nod, eyes half-closed and staring blankly at the movie that’d you’d lost track of a long time ago. You sigh in relief and close your eyes when he pushes his lips against your throat, the scene in front of you lost as you breathe him in.

With your eyes shut, you feel him more intensely. The warmth of his lips on your skin, the way his hands start to slide across your sides, your t-shirt falling over his wrists. He stops just below your breasts, nipping his teeth on your throat to get your attention.

“ Last chance ,” He whispers.

You arch your back, grinding your ass subtly back into him. You feel his cock twitch against it, and he bites down harder on your shoulder.

“Was that your answer?” He breathes, his hands growing more certain on your skin.

“ God , Kei,” You laugh. “Do something before I do.”

You feel him smile before anything else.

He slides one hand back down around your waist, using his arm to anchor you to him. His other hand slides up, and you gasp, feeling his palm cup your breast.

“ Oh -” You arch your back again, your head falling back against his shoulder. You’d noticed how big his hands are over the months together, but you’d never really realized .

He keeps you flush to him while his fingers roam eagerly over your chest, the pads of his fingertips rough and calloused from volleyball. He kneads one breast, his palm as searing hot as the kisses he trails along your throat, and then he switches to the other. His fingers tweak and pluck at your nipples, teeth blunt on your shoulder and his other arm holding you tight as you start to wriggle and moan.

You dig your hands into his thighs, the fabric of his sweats balled up in your fists. Your head swims, face warm and skin sweaty, and you loll your head back and forth on his shoulder. “Tsukki, please,” You moan, unconsciously spreading your thighs and pushing them against his. He notices, the hand on your waist squeezing once.

“Want more, princess?”

“Please, fuck-” You want to growl when he takes his hands off of you, but the brief disappointment is replaced with a distinct thumping of your heart when he hooks both hands under your knees and pries your thighs open, hanging your legs over the sides of his knees. You feel briefly vulnerable sitting like this, but he just slides his hand back under your shirt and continues to play with you.

“Comfortable?” He asks, his other hand toying with the waistband of your pants. You nod, your breathing growing heavy when his thumb slips under the band. “You sure?”

“Tsukishima, I swear-” You gasp, feeling him tug hard on your nipple. He snickers against your shoulder, whispering ‘ so easy ’ into your skin as he pushes his other hand past the band of your sweats. He doesn’t bother stopping there, fingertips slipping past your panties and finally pausing right over where you need him.

“ Mm- ” You purse your lips hard to keep from moaning too loud. But your head fills with static and your stomach flips over itself again and again while he swipes teasing circles over your clit.

“C’mon, princess,” He breathes smugly into your ear, but you hear him swallow hard as his fingers dip lower and slide through your folds. “You’re not gonna let me hear you? After everything?”

His fingertips are hot against you, and you become suddenly aware of how much larger his fingers are than yours. You feel — horrified, truly — as you become wetter against his hand. Tsukki’s smile is wide against the shell of your ear.

“What happened, baby?” He whispers, nudging the tip of his middle finger against your entrance. “If there’s something you want, you gotta ask for it.”

You just lift your hands to your face, hiding. Tsukki lifts his own hand away from you before coming down quickly, the slap sharp against your core. You yelp, hands flying to hold onto his arms and face burning as he soothes the pain by running his fingers through your folds. There’s a soft squelch that echoes in the room and makes him chuckle low against your head.

“ I think your pretty little pussy likes me, princess ,” He whispers, the hand on your chest sliding up through the collar of your shirt and resting on the base of your throat. “ Better ask fast, before I lose interest. ”

You whine, your heart pounding against his hand. “Please, Tsukki…”

“Yeah?”

You tighten your hold on his arms, nervous. “Please finger me?”

“Aw,” He coos, laughing gently as he swipes more circles over your clit, still gentle. “That’s so sweet, baby. But you can do better.”

“What?” You whine, turning your head and burying your face in his neck. Your throat pushes further into his hand, and you feel yourself get impossibly wetter when he tightens his grip.

“You can ask better than that,” He mumbles, and you feel his cock twitch against your back when you clench, his fingers sliding patiently back and forth.

“Uhm-” You shudder, because he’s switched to flicking his fingertips against your clit. “I-”

“ Come on, Y/n, ” He whispers against your head. He starts to tap his fingers, one and then the other. “ I’ll stop if you don’t ask soon.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest, and you shake your head. “Please don’t-”

“Then ask me-”

“I did- ”

�� Ask me, Y/n- ”

“ Please , Tsukki!” You yell, squeezing your eyes shut and trying not to think about how your voice bounces on the walls. “I need you to stuff your fingers in my cunt and fuck me before I lose my fucking mind -”

He groans loudly, drowning you out, but your voice cuts short anyway, because he’s sliding his middle two fingers down and pushing them roughly into you.

“Oh, my- Tsukki- ” You gasp, his name ripped from your throat.

“ Fuck- ” He groans, sliding his fingers out and slamming them back into you. “ Y/n- ”

You purse your lips to muffle yourself, wriggling and arching your back, your throat pressing into his hand. “Tsukki, fuck.”

“God, you’re so pretty, baby,” He whispers, his breathing rough and shallow. “You feel so good-” His chest heaves against your back, and your head fills with white noise, a ringing in your ears as you feel nothing except the way his fingers stretch you out, his palm slapping against your clit over and over again until you feel like your skin is on fire. “You’re doing so- so good with my fingers-“ He cuts off, moaning and pressing his face into your hair when you clench hard around his fingers. “ Fuck , Y/n-“

“Please,” You whimper, knowing how desperate you sound. “More, Tsukki, please-”

“Baby-“ He laughs, his voice strained. “I don’t know-”

“ Please , Tsukki. Please, I need you-“

He slams his hand into you, stopping long enough to take a deep breath. “Y/n, I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready f-”

“I’m ready!” You scream pathetically. “Please, I promise I’m ready, I need you so bad, Tsukki-”

“Y/n-”

You know it’s only been a week since that morning on your bed. You know that he’s worried that you’re not thinking straight. But you also know that it’s him, that it’s always been him. That, above all else, he’s the one you need. That there will never be anyone else.

You think you might be in love with him.

And if that’s the case, then you’re really not seeing any reason to keep waiting.

“Tsukishima Kei, I swear to fucking God – if you don’t fuck me, I will actually start sobbing.” Your voice is already starting to crack, and your chest is heaving in large gulps of air. He moans quietly in your ear, and you think he says something to the effect of ‘ Okay, baby. I got you’, but you can’t be sure. The ringing in your ears is too strong, worsened when he quickly slips his fingers out of you. You whine at the emptiness, the sound lost in the shuffle of Tsukki lifting you into his arms and standing from the couch.

He carries you to bed in two strides, lying you down much more gently than you’d expected. Climbing over you, he slides his shirt off and drops it to the floor in one smooth motion. Your heart jumps, and you eagerly sit up to do the same, barely catching the way his eyes widen as he takes you in. And then you lie back, clutching the sheets in both hands to fight the urge you have to cover your chest. But it seems like he might be enjoying what he’s seeing, because he just hooks his fingers distractedly into your sweats and panties, his eyes roaming your body. He pulls them both off and sends them somewhere off the edge of the bed without looking.

“Shit,” He whispers, more to himself than anything. You shiver under his gaze, gathering the courage to let your thighs fall open. Cold air hits your skin, but you barely have time to whimper before his eyes are dropping. They go wide, and you watch all the air leave his lungs as he stares down at you. “ Shit ,” He says again, even quieter.

“Coming?” You breathe, reaching one hand along the sheet for him. His gaze flies to yours, golden eyes still stunned but recovering the moment he sees you looking up at him. Wordlessly, he drops down over you, his lips finding yours in a rush of heat and everything he’s not saying right now. You sigh against his mouth, holding his face and spreading your thighs further when you feel him reach down between you for his own pants. He pushes them down blindly and kicks them off into the distance, his mouth hot and his wine-laced tongue dancing along yours.

“Y/n,” He mumbles, and you tighten your hold on his face.

“If you ask me if I’m sure, I will finger myself in front of you and then kick you out.”

His laugh is the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Okay.” He nibbles on your lip and shifts his weight. You feel his cock brush along your thigh, precum smearing on your skin. “I hear you.”

You will admit that you’re nervous. As he pulls his lips from yours and glances down between you with purpose, the head of his cock bumping up against your entrance, you’re struck with anticipation and a little bit of fear that this might hurt a lot, especially considering his size. But then, as he’s using his thumb to push the tip in as slowly as possibly, his eyes flick up to meet yours.

And you remember just how sure you are.

So, even though it does hurt — the sting causing you to grip the sheet hard enough to rip it — Tsukki’s eyes are flicking back and forth between your face and your core, his brow furrowed in concentration, and you feel impossibly safe. Because he would never do anything that might hurt you.

You trust him.

“‘s this okay?” He grunts, sliding painstakingly slowly into you. You just nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth and eyes scrunched shut. He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours and forcing you to free your lip from its torture. “Y/n, if it hurts, we can stop. We don’t have to do this,” He whispers against you, but you only shake your head, whining.

“‘m okay, I promise. ‘s just new.” Your breath is shallow in your chest. “Maybe if I jus’…” You angle your hips up and spread your thighs just an inch wider, and you feel his sigh against your lips. The relief is instant for you, too, and your lungs fill with air. “Okay,” You breathe, prying your aching fingers from the sheets and stretching them. “Okay.”

“Okay,” He whispers back, his hand finding your thigh and his fingers splaying across the underside. He sighs, the sound a half-groan as he bottoms out inside of you. “Fuck.”

Your brow’s broken out in a sweat and your skin is flushed with heat, but when you open your eyes, Tsukki’s staring right back at you, gaze searching your face. You wonder what you look like, because you’re seeing awe in the way his eyes trace you.

“You okay?” His eyes track the embarrassed purse of your lips and the way you glance nervously down your body at the place where his hips meet yours.

“Are you?” You ask breathlessly, watching his arms shake as he holds himself over you.

“No,” He laughs. “This is torture.”

You beam up at him, your voice weak when you say, “You can move, Tsukki.” Your fingers find his shoulders, and he collapses onto his elbows, pressing his forehead to your chest.

“Really? I don’t want to hurt you-”

“Are you this careful with every girl? I’m starting to get a little offended-”

“ You’re not every girl ,” He says simply, muffled against your skin. Your stomach flips, and you accidentally clench around him. The sound he makes is inhuman. “ Was that necessary? ” He complains pitifully into your chest. You giggle wholeheartedly, and he shakes his head against you. “ Don’t do that either- ”

“Oh, my God, Tsukki – please just move ,” You laugh, snaking your arms around his neck and lifting his head toward you. He shifts, kissing you firmly and breathing a soft ‘ yes, ma’am ’ against your lips.

He starts slow, slow as before. His hips pull back carefully, and then he rocks forward on his knees, bumping gently up against you when he bottoms out again. The sting is still there, but he distracts you by kissing you, his lips eager on yours and his quiet moans breathless and lost in your throat. He circles your clit gently with his thumb while he does, and you start to shiver against him. Eventually, the sting subsides, and the only notice you give him is the stretch of your thighs and the shallow cant of your hips upward to meet his. His kiss falters for a moment, and the hand on your thigh tightens in surprise, but he doesn’t ask any more questions.

When he snaps his hips a little roughly, you know he’s gotten the message. You focus on breathing while he rocks his hips, pursing your lips to keep from moaning too loud. He’s breathless over you, and you’re secretly amazed to see him like this — brow furrowed and lips parted, eyes flicking between yours and then shutting briefly before finding you again. You’ve never seen his expression so unguarded before.

There’s a quiet sound that vibrates in his throat every time his hips meet yours, and you find yourself wanting to hear it properly. So you card your fingers through his hair and kiss him, whispering his name against his lips and rocking your hips up in time with his. You hear it then, clear and perfect.

“Oh- fuck- ” Tsukki groans loudly, his hand sliding urgently along the sheet in search of you. His fingers interlace with yours and latch on tight. “You feel so good-” He drops his head to your shoulder, lips hot on your throat. “God-” He laughs pathetically. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much of a mess.”

“Tsukki,” You whisper, feeling something below your navel twist and tug. “Tsukki-I’m- mm-” You wriggle, arching your back and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please-”

“Are you close, princess?” His voice is teasing, but you can see in the way he lifts his head, eyes searching your face frantically, that he’s eager. When you nod, his face melts into a kind of affection you’ve never seen from him before. He smiles, eyes flicking down to your mouth, and nods. “Okay, baby. Close your eyes.”

You whimper, doing as he says and immediately feeling him shift over you. His hand falls between you, fingers swiping ever so gently over your clit as his hips start to bump against yours with a little more force. You cry out, hearing the headboard slam against the wall over and over again.

“ Tsukki! ” You cant bring yourself to care anymore how loud you are, your breath coming too fast now and your reservations slipping the moment you hear him moan your name.

“You look so pretty, Y/n-so pretty like this.” He pants, his hips starting to stutter and his cock twitching inside you. The tugging in your navel worsens and peaks, and you moan his name again. He groans at the sound. “You take me so well- fuck . Feels like you were made for me.”

You gasp, feeling yourself being pulled to the edge. “Tsukki, I’m-” You shudder, fluttering around him, and he starts to breathe hard against your skin.

“Come on, baby. Let me feel you come around me.”

Your hands tighten on his hair, and you’re distantly aware of Tsukki pushing his lips to yours heatedly as you’re starting to scream. He swallows the sound, moaning as he spills into you, his hips faltering and then stopping against yours.

You stay that way for an unknown amount of time, your heart beating in your throat, ears, core, and everything else while you come down. Tsukki kisses you with languor, his teeth nipping softly on your bottom lip as he sighs against you. You swallow thickly, whispering his name after a moment.

“Hi,” He whispers back, slowly lifting his head. You scratch your nails on his scalp, and he blinks down at you sleepily. “You okay?”

You giggle. “Guess we’ll see in the morning.” His lips pull into a small smile, eyes tracing your features. You kiss him once, mumbling ‘ should we clean up? ’ against his lips.

He barks out a laugh, nodding. “Stay here.” He lifts off you slowly. “I’ll take care of you.”

You can’t find it in you to be shy about him seeing your body now, feeling all too safe and drifting quickly off to sleep, before he’s even back from the bathroom.

—

It’s still dark outside when you roll over, wincing as you stretch. You reach over for Tsukki, but your arm hits the bed instead. A noise of confusion leaves you, and you lift your head, blinking in the dark.

He’s sitting up in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist and his arms wrapped around his bent knees.

“Tsukki?” You mumble. He doesn’t seem to hear you, so you sit up, realizing with a quick glance that you’re wearing the t-shirt he’d had on before and your panties. He must have cleaned you up and dressed you. “Tsukki,” You try again, touching his arm.

He starts, turning to look back at you. “Oh. Hi.”

That’s all he says.

You pull your hand off of him, something unknown coming between you. “What’s wrong?”

He just swallows hard and shakes his head, scooting toward you. “Nothing.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and tries to guide you back down, but you brush him off.

“Tsukki.”

He stares. You stare back. He looks away and runs his fingers through his hair roughly.

“I don’t know if we should have done that,” is what he says. The words are whispered, but they echo in the silence.

You think you might throw up.

“What?”

“I just-“ He sighs, running a hand down his face. “Don’t get me wrong, okay-”

“Then don’t say something wrong, Tsukki.”

“Y/n, we were drunk-”

Oh.

You blink, scooting away from him slowly. You pull the blankets up to your chest, staring at nothing. He watches you, shaking his head.

“Y/n, just let me talk please. Don’t overdo this-”

“Don’t overdo this?” You ask, eyes wide as they land on him. “I just lost my virginity to you, and you can’t even wait two hours before trying to make your escape.”

“ No- “ He shakes his head, trying to move toward you, but you stick your foot out, stopping him. “Y/n, no. I’m just-I mean, we’re not even together-”

You flinch back at that. He sees it, and regret crosses his face. His mouth opens, but you cut him off.

“Were you dating every girl you’ve ever fucked?”

“No, but-“ He laughs. “You’re not every girl. You know that.”

“No, I thought that,” You say, finally standing from the bed and backing away toward the couch. “But you’re treating me like I’m trash that you haven’t figured out how to throw out yet!”

“No, I’m not!” He stands too, staying at the end of the bed. He seems to have realized you don’t want him near you. “I just wish we had done things right -”

“I thought they were right!” You snap. “That felt right to me, Tsukishima.”

“You know what i mean -”

“What do you want?” You throw your hands out. “What are you trying to gain from doing this? Tell me.”

“God, I’m just telling you what’s going through my head!” He tangles his fingers in his hair, tugging in frustration. “We aren’t together, and we were drunk, and I didn’t want this to be-” He shakes his head, and you get the feeling the rest of that sentence was important. But he’d stopped talking, which means he’s not willing to share it with you. So you just watch, refusing to push him for it, because you need to see what he does on his own.

“I’m just confused,” He finally mumbles. “I don’t know where to go from here. This wasn’t right.”

You stare, feeling tears prick at the back of your eyes. But you just start to laugh, even though your vision is getting blurry.

“You’re confused? ” Your laughter is shallow, pained. “You always told me to stop getting in my head about this — about us — and now you’re the one who’s confused ?!”

“We should have-”

“You told me to do whatever I feel is right-“ You snap. “-and now that I have, you’re confused ?”

“We didn’t talk about any of this!” He yells, shaking his head. “We said we wouldn’t have sex, so we never talked about what this would mean-”

“Yeah! I figured maybe that part could wait until after!” You scoff. “You know, we could have just talked about what comes next in the morning , but you decided to be confused and overthink and ruin this.”

He looks like he wants to argue, his face pinched with stress, but you just rub at your brow, breathing hard. You feel sick.

“This is why I wanted rules,” You mumble. “I knew this would happen.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then-

“You knew what would happen? That I would fuck this up?”

You meet his eyes, angry. “That you wouldn’t be able to find a way to let me down easy. That you would let me fall for you, knowing you were just going to cut me off at the end.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I was doing.”

“No?” You point at the bed. “But you were so quick to think of how cut me loose.”

His brow furrows in irritation. “ Why do you always think the worst of me?”

“Because you couldn’t even wait one night!” You scream. “You couldn’t just be happy with me !”

He steps toward you, and you see in the moonlight that his walls have gone up. “I was not trying to cut you loose. And I have never lied to you . But you’ve always been so fucking resistant to the idea that I could ever be telling the truth.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, already turning away from you. “God forbid I tell you what’s on my mind and you actually take me seriously.” He meets your eyes evenly. “Maybe it’s you who’s looking for a way out.”

The silence in the room is suffocating.

“Get out,” You finally say.

The door slams before you have time to process that he’s gone.

The tears finally spill, and your knees hit the floor just as the wailing starts.

—

Kei throws the front door shut so hard that something falls off the wall in his foyer. He’s not sure what it is, but he’s tempted to start breaking more things. Thankfully, it’s late enough that no paparazzi were outside when he’d gotten here, or else it might have been someone’s camera on the ground again. Great way to celebrate his contract signing.

Yamaguchi wouldn’t appreciate coming home to a destroyed house, though, so he settles for stomping up the stairs hard enough that one of them creaks in a funny way when he lands on it. He slams the door to his room, too, and then he throws himself down on his bed and screams into his pillow.

He hadn’t meant to say it like that. He doesn’t know why he said it like that. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a mistake. How could any of tonight have been a mistake with you? He just wishes he’d told you how he feels about you before things had gotten out of hand. He wishes you would have known how he feels about you while you were trusting him with your body like that.

Because then, maybe, you would have known while you were taking your shirt off that you were safe. You would have known, while you were in pain for those few minutes, that he would never hurt you. That he was trying his best, that you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, that you would never have to pressure yourself to have sex because he would have been okay with stopping at any time.

He wishes he would have told you he loves you.

Maybe then you would have known.

But instead, you’d looked at him with betrayal in your eyes when he’d been stupid enough to stumble over his words. You’d taken him for all the things he’s always been, but never with you. You’d trusted him with everything, and then you’d closed yourself off in an instant, and he’d gotten frustrated because you wouldn’t hear him out.

But how could he expect you to hear him out? How could he get mad that you’d retreated into your shell and locked him out? You’d only let him in for a minute, and he’d ruined it.

He’s ruined this.

Kei doesn’t remember the last time he cried, but he makes up for it now, his pillow soaked with tears by the time he finally drifts off to sleep.

—

You spend the next day in bed, sobbing into Kiyoko’s shirt and ignoring the missed calls from Tsukki. And there are a lot of them. He calls back to back for an hour straight — Kiyoko finally has enough and answers for you, muttering ‘ the next time I see you, I’m going to curb stomp you until your teeth are gone ’ before silencing your phone and tossing it somewhere on the couch.

You fall asleep sometime before the sun sets, Kiyoko’s fingers combing through your hair soothingly. You stir a few hours later and think you hear Kyoutani’s voice, soft and deep as he mumbles ‘ he wasn’t at practice today ’ and paces your floor quietly. You fall asleep again, your traitorous heart twitching as it realizes that Tsukki might not be okay, either.

The morning of the 27th, your eyes crack open, swollen and burning, to a knock at your door. You roll over, staring emptily at it, and then you climb out of bed, thinking it’s Kiyoko, and trudge to the door.

It’s not Kiyoko.

In his defense, his eyes are as red and swollen as yours feel.

“Hi,” He croaks. You flinch at the sound of his voice.

“What do you want?” You whisper. He’s holding a plastic bag from the store, and he holds it out weakly to you now.

“I didn’t get to-” He swallows. “I should have taken care of you. After. I didn’t.”

No. You didn’t.

You take the bag, peering inside. Some snacks, a pack of muscle patches, a couple electrolyte-replenishing drinks.

A box of Plan B, sitting at the bottom.

You stare at it emptily. “Who saw you buy this?” The last thing you need is the internet witnessing your heartbreak in real time.

“Management took care of it.”

You’re not sure you’re okay with them being involved, but it’s better than Tsukishima Kei being caught buying Plan B.

You shut the bag, shoving it back at him. “Well, you can thank them for me, but I’ve actually been on birth control for years.” He blinks, taking it while staring dumbly down at you. You smile, your anger manifesting as cruelty. “So don’t worry about it, Tsukishima.” He doesn’t look so happy to hear his name used that way anymore. “I never intended to get pregnant and trap you in a loveless marriage for your fame and fortune.”

His eyebrows furrow, and his frown cuts deep. “Y/n-”

You slam the door in his face.

—

Kei doesn’t speak to you again until New Year’s Eve — until you literally have to speak to him, because he needs to text you about his contract signing.

His fingers shake while he sends it, letting you know that he’d be arriving to your place in a limo booked by the Frogs at 6pm, and then he sends you a picture of his ties, in case you want to match. You don’t respond, so he just picks the black one.

He’s terrified that you’ll decide not to go. Terrified.

But even when you send him a thumbs up (still not responding about the ties), he doesn’t feel less terrified. He just sits at the edge of his bed and stares down at his phone, his heart ripping in his chest as he scrolls through your previous messages from the last few months. All of that — all of your excited texts and flirty memes, all of his thinly veiled affection. All siphoned down to nothing in a matter of days.

He gets ready with trembling fingers, his eyes pricking with tears and then drying up as he shakes his head and blinks away every regret he’s ever had. He sits in the limo in anxious silence, watching it pull into your apartment, the lights flashing on the cameras outside.

And then he wipes his eyes and draws his shoulders back, because, while the world inside has been falling apart under his fingertips, the world outside has been going crazy over the news of Tsukishima Kei going pro.

He exits the limo and bows to a few reporters, waving politely as he waits for you. He doesn’t answer any questions, mostly because he doesn’t want anyone to get too close and see that he’s not okay. But then you come out of your apartment in a black ball gown that makes his heart wrench, and he has to fight tears again.

You smile wide at him, your eyes crinkling and your face glowing as you walk down the steps to meet him.

“You that stunned to see me?” You ask, loud enough to be heard by the paparazzi. They laugh, and you laugh with them as you step up to him. Then you lift onto your tiptoes and press your lips to his in greeting, and he has to remember to close his eyes and act like everything’s fine, even though the feeling your lips on his makes him want to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness.

You pull away and turn to the cameras, waving quickly before ducking through the door he’s holding open. He waves, too, and follows you, the camera shutters loud behind him.

The inside of the limo is dead silent.

You sit on the other side of the car, staring out the window as the driver pulls out to the street. Any evidence that you’d just smiled at him like he’s your world is gone. Kei just looks at you, every nerve in his body fighting to find something to say.

Finally, after five torturous minutes, he swallows. “Y/n.”

“Don’t.” You don’t bother meeting his eyes when you speak. “Let’s just get through this. In the morning, we can ask Management how to break up without making you look bad.”

His heart drops to the ground. “I don’t want to break up.”

You meet his eyes now. “I do.”

“No, you don’t.” He refuses to believe this.

“How would you know?”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t know. That’s why this terrifies him.

“We’re not breaking up,” He croaks finally.

You turn back to the window. “Let’s just get through this.”

The ride to the Frogs’ gym is filled with a silence that certainly feels like he’s been dumped.

—

“-ations to Tsukishima Kei for this amazing step into professional volleyball, and we welcome him with open arms to what’s certain to be a long and fruitful career.”

Kei stands from his seat in the audience, shaking his coach’s hand firmly and bowing at the waist. The Frogs have opened the doors of their in-house conference venue – which is just a large ballroom – the back half filled with round tables and the front lined with a couple rows of chairs for the reporters. The room is capped on the far end by a podium, where his coach has just finished speaking, and a long table. There’s a chair labeled with his name there, in the center of the table, and there’s a stack of papers for him to sign.

He moves there now, glancing up at the front row and finding you staring back. Your face is masked into a perfect smile, and your expression is filled with love and support as you watch him take a seat at a table filled with his coach, manager, captain, and a brand sponsor.

But then you meet his eyes, and he can see how empty they are.

He looks down at his papers, adjusting his tie nervously. The camera flashes are making him warm, and he can’t really hear what’s being said, so he follows his coach’s lead and turns pages when necessary and signs on dotted lines, again and again and again. He’s already read the terms of his employment — they’d emailed him the hundred-page document three days ago so that he could read it and negotiate benefits before the day of the signing. That’s the only reason he’s not more nervous about this moment. He just has to flip pages and sign whatever his coach points to.

The whole process only takes five minutes, cameras flashing away over his bent head. Before he knows it, he’s standing and shaking his coach’s hand again, and then he’s being hugged by his manager and captain and taking a photo with his brand sponsor.

And then he looks at you, still sitting in the front row as reporters start to stand and approach him.

It’s almost worse that your eyes are filled with genuine warmth this time.

He answers a couple questions, but his eyes keep flicking back to you distractedly, and finally a voice speaks from the back – feminine and familiar and belonging to a reporter donning the Sendai Sports lanyard.

“I think maybe Tsukishima would enjoy a moment alone with his girlfriend — We could move to the reception tables and continue our conversations there, perhaps?”

Kei grabs his manager by the sleeve as the crowd is clearing and asks if it’s possible for the Frogs to hire Nariko as his PR rep. His manager looks up at him with surprise and says he’ll speak with her.

When Kei turns again, you’re there. His heart jumps, and he slips his arm around your waist by habit, trying not to react visibly when you tense against him.

“You asked to hire Nariko?” You say, setting a careful hand on his bicep. “That would set her up for life.”

“I know,” is all he says. Your eyes flicker with appreciation, and you step close to wrap your arms around his neck. He hugs you as tight as he can without making it obvious that he hasn’t seen you in days.

“Congratulations,” You whisper in his ear. “I’m proud of you.”

A lump grows in his throat. “Thanks.” You dont respond, and he squeezes you, because he can feel you slipping away. “I’m sorry,” He breathes.

“I can’t,” You say, stepping away. “It’s too late-”

“It’s not .” He’s starting to get desperate, the thought of you closing off to him forever pure torture. “It’s not too late-”

“Stop brushing off what I said.” Your brow furrows with annoyance, and his frustration bubbles for a moment too long.

“Why? You do it all the time.” He dips his head quickly so that the cameras don’t see the tension in his face, and he’s thankful your back is to them, because you’re outright frowning now.

“Let’s just get through this.”

“Would you please stop saying that?”

You sigh quietly, stepping close and running your hands over his shoulders in a way that appears affectionate to anyone watching. “Fix your face, Kei. I don’t want to talk about this now. Let’s just enjoy the evening, because you deserve to be appreciated for everything you’ve put into this.”

He’s amazed at your ability to think of him, even now.

“You put so much into this, too,” He whispers. You just smile bitterly.

“Yeah. And look where that got me.”

He watches you paint a loving smile on your face as you take his hand and lead him toward the reception table occupied by his teammates and Management. He does his best to pretend, even though he feels like he’s losing a piece of his soul.

—

You lean forward on the counter, staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

It’s amazing that you’ve been able to keep it together all night. You’ve clung to his arm and followed him around the room, talking to his teammates, to Management, to any reporters who had questions for you. You’ve spoken with a smile and a laugh and a twinkle in your eye, and you’ve done your best to hide how much it hurts to be close to him.

To the smell of him, clean and warm and filled with home . To the feel of him, secure and safe as he holds your waist and kisses your cheek appropriately. To the sight of him, perfect and golden and made of everything you’d fallen in love with.

It makes you sick, looking yourself in the eye and knowing you’d been lying the whole night. Especially with Kyoutani watching you like a hawk, eyes full of blatant concern. And with various members of Management quietly asking if you’re feeling okay, if there’s ‘ anything else ’ you need.

You shake it off, drying your hands and fixing your hair with a quiet sigh. Only a little more, and you can retreat to your dark cave of wallowing.

Straightening your back, you smile at yourself in the mirror and turn, leaving the bathroom and making your way down the hallway back to the reception room.

You hear him before you see him.

“ -the fuck did you say to me? ”

No. No way. He wouldnt.

There’s nervous laughter that follows, and you speed up to get to him before he says something else.

“ I’m just saying- ” You don’t know the voice well, but you think it belongs to one of the only super young reporters at the event today. “ -now that you’re officially pro, you might consider transitioning into a relationship that’s a bit more…. suited to your new lifestyle. ”

You stop short, just shy of the corner.

“Someone a bit more pleasing to the public, if you will,” The man finishes, and you stare down at nothing. You struggle to recover, too many wounds opened too soon, one after another. But you know Tsukki can’t pick a fight, not here. So you lift your head and resume your trudge to the end of the hall, only to find Nariko staring back at you.

She looks angry, and her eyes flick away from yours to stomp just out of view. Just as Tsukki’s starting to respond.

“Would the public find it pleasing if I were to beat your ass for talking about my girlfri-”

“Tsukishima,” Nariko cuts in. “It’s great to get some one-on-one time with you.” You hear the other reporter gasp and stumble, and you’re guessing Nariko’s pushed him out of the way.

Tsukki sighs at her. “Thanks for th-”

He suddenly appears in your eyeline, stumbling back a few feet, and you realize that she’s pushed him, too. You’re a bit impressed.

He looks affronted for a moment, but then your presence catches his eye, and he turns to you with wide eyes.

“Y/n-”

“As your new PR rep, Tsukishima-” Nariko says, stepping around the corner to face the both of you and create a bit of privacy. She winks at you when she calls herself by that title. “-I’d recommend not getting into a fight at a contract signing that only happened because you stopped getting into fights.”

Tsukki has the decency to look ashamed, and you nearly hug Nariko. But she just looks between you before glancing over her shoulder.

“You know… No one will notice if you’re gone for ten minutes.”

You don’t wait for any other signal, only wrapping a hand around Tsukki’s wrist and dragging him all the way down the hall to a storage closet. You throw him in and slam the door, whirling on him.

“Are you fucking insane?”

He points out the door, jaw slack in shock. “You heard what he said to me!”

“Are you lacking self-control in every way?!” You throw your hands out. “This is your day , and you come that close to ruining it?”

His jaw clenches and unclenches as he stares at you, his eyes flicking between yours. “I won’t let people talk to me like that. Not about you.”

You stare back. “I won’t let you put everything on the line for me. You can’t ruin your own life for something stupid-”

“This isn’t stupid !” He explodes. “Everything before you was stupid!” He starts to pace. “I had a shit temper, and it was easy to bait me into a fight, and I would end up in the tabloids for the dumbest shit . And you helped me! You fixed me, just like I asked you to! I’m not the same guy I was before, Y/n. But this -” He points out the door. “ You ? I can’t do it.”

You breathe hard, shaking your head. “Then let’s end this.” When his eyes only widen, you swallow. “Let’s end this now. If I’m this much of a weakness for you, let’s make them stop talking about me. We got what you needed – I fixed you, like I said I would. Your contract’s secured. You can go back to dating girls that all look the same, and we can take some time apart so I can get over you, and-” You’d started to pull the door open, but Tsukki crosses the room in two strides and slams it shut again, his hand flat on the wood.

“Y/n.” His eyes are sharp, but you can see the fear in them. “I need you to stop running from me.”

“Then stop making me run.” You reach for the door again, but he won’t budge. You stamp your foot in frustration. “Tsukki! I’m doing everything I can to preserve this friendship, but I can’t keep doing this !”

“You’re not doing everything! All you have to do is fucking listen to me -”

You back away from him into the room, shaking your head. “Why, Tsukki? So I can listen to you tell me that night was a mistake? That you ‘ never meant for it to get that far ’, that you ‘ wish things had been different ’? Well, so do I!” You yell. “I wish things had been different, too! I wish I would have known what you would do to me, so that I wouldn’t be stupid enough to go fall in love with someone who doesn’t love me back- ”

“ I do love you back!” He yells, strong and loud and full of anger. Your head snaps up, eyes finding his. His gaze is furious and hurt, and you can’t say you’ve ever seen him look at you like that before. It makes your heart ache and your chest tighten, the way his lip wobbles once before he clenches his jaw and fixes it.

“...What?” You finally say, your breath caught in your throat.

“I love you back. You stupid fucking girl.” He sounds tired. Exhausted, really.

You stare. “That was rude,” You whisper weakly. He just laughs, but it sounds like he’s near tears. He hasn’t sounded like that since high school, since that fight on your doorstep.

“Sorry, but that’s what you get with me.” He reaches for the doorknob, opening it an inch. “So now’s your time to back out.”

You stay right where you are. “Or what?”

The silence that follows seems to go on forever.

His eyes search yours, and the sliver of hope you see kills you. “What?”

“Or what, Tsukki? What do I get if I stay?”

He stares, unmoving. “You get me.”

You think you might cry.

You move to the door, watching the fight leave his eyes when he realizes you’re leaving. But you just put your hand on the door, nudging it shut. It clicks, and he stares down at you, confused.

“How long?” You ask.

His eyes flick between yours a moment as he processes your question. “I think it’s probably telling that I wanted you to be my fake girlfriend at all, Y/n.”

You blink, realization hitting you. “Did you know? This whole time?”

“No,” He laughs pathetically. “And Yamaguchi’s never going to let me live it down.”

“Why did you call that night a mistake?” You need to know, even if you’re not sure you want to hear the reason. It’s been killing you.

“I didn’t-” He sighs, rubbing at his brow. “I didn’t say it was a mistake. I said I wish I had done it right.” He meets your eyes, his own so close and golden and honest. You’d missed them. “I wanted to tell you I loved you first. Because I didn’t want you to worry that it was just a hookup.”

You hadn’t realized that his answer would drain you of all your energy. You slump, letting out an exhausted sigh. “And you couldn’t just say that?”

“Well, you couldn’t just listen .” He rolls his eyes, and you see a twinge of irritation in his brow. You laugh softly, and it worsens. “You think that’s funny, huh?” He says, staring down at you. “This could have all been avoided if you’d just heard me out, but you like to act insane.”

“And you like to say the worst things at the worst times!” You argue, half-laughing and half-angry. “Why couldn’t you wait until the morning? Why did I have to wake up and find you contemplating your whole life in the dark?”

“Because I felt guilty!” He snaps, and you’re taken aback, a little offended. He’d felt guilty for sleeping with you? “Because I was terrified I had ruined your first time by not doing it right and making this official between us beforehand. I hadn’t wanted you to be self-conscious the first time.”

You find it in you to be a little appreciative of that. That he had wanted you to know how sure he was, that you were safe with him no matter what.

And also-” He rolls his eyes. “Not for nothing, but we were drunk, and I couldn’t tell if I was too rough, and I really hadn’t wanted to hurt you -”

It seems your moment of appreciation is over.

“ Why do you keep treating me like I’m fragile?” You bite. “You kept asking, over and over again, if I was okay. If I was sure I wanted to keep going. You were so careful with me, Tsukki – Get over yourself! I’m not going to break!”

He just stares. You realize what you’ve said. You remember who you’re talking to.

“Not gonna break, huh?” He mumbles, eyes flicking down to your lips. He seems like he wants to say something else, but he holds back.

You don’t.

“Yeah. Want me to prove it?”

You watch in real time as his eyes fill with understanding.

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” He says, eyes flicking between yours. You start to argue, because he’s doing it again , but he cuts you short. “With me? So soon?”

Oh.

He must not realize how badly you’ve missed him. How much it’s hitting you, now that you understand what had gone wrong between you. That you’d been stupid. That he’d been stupid.

Would it be wrong to rile him up? Probably.

“Why, Tsukki? You got a lot to take out on me?” His eyes flicker dangerously, and you take a single step closer, craning your neck back to look at him. “You got your work cut out for you. Apparently, I’m not good at listening.”

His resolve goes out the window, and he dips his head low, lips brushing yours. Your soul aches for him.

“ I can make you good at listening. ”

You smile. “ Well, you’re not gonna do it by being gentle. ”

He drags you out the door before you can even process that it’s been opened. He pulls you down the hall toward the back entrance of the conference venue, and you laugh, glancing back toward the main room.

“People are gonna notice that you’re gone, Tsukki-”

“I’ll make it up to them.” He hauls you outside, all but carrying you down the steps to the limo. There are no reporters out here, probably because they’re all inside, so it’s no issue for him to quite literally toss you into the back of the limo with reckless abandon. Your hands find him before he’s got the door all the way closed.

And then his mouth is on yours, and you feel all the things that had fallen out of place finally align again. His lips are warm and urgent, and your fingers are tight in his hair. He knocks blindly on the window separating the back from the driver’s side of the limo, and the car starts to move just as he’s pushing you down on the seat. You topple back, and Tsukki climbs over you, his mouth attaching to your throat.

“ Tsukki ,” You breathe, relief filling your lungs. He groans quietly, hands sliding your dress up your legs and over your thighs.

“ Fuck, I missed you ,” He mumbles into your skin. “This is real, right? Not a dream?”

You giggle, your chest pressing up into his, and you feel him smile wide against you. “You saying this isn’t a dream come true, Tsukishima? I can leave, if you want-”

“God, I can’t wait to fuck that attitude out of you,” He says, spreading your thighs and slotting himself between them. “How has your mouth not gotten you in trouble yet?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to do something about it,” You say, shrugging. “Might be too late, now. I’m getting pretty good at it.”

“Don’t complain when I break you,” He whispers before biting down hard on your shoulder. You moan loudly, slapping a hand over your mouth in embarrassment because the driver of this limo does not need to hear that. Tsukki laughs against you.

“You asked me not to be gentle. Are you regretting it?”

You shake your head furiously. Your stomach flips over and over on itself, and there’s that warm buzzing filling your skin that you’ve come to associate with him.

“No?” He whispers. “You like it?”

“ Mm- “ You wriggle under him, your dress sliding up as you push yourself against him. “Yeah-yes. Mhm .”

His hold on your hips tightens. “Lucky me,” He responds, a little breathless. He uses his grip to drag you down the leather seat a little more, forcing your thighs open so he can press his hips against you. You moan quietly in his ear, feeling him against your core, already half-hard.

“Need you, Tsukki.”

“Yeah? Am I supposed to give it to you just because of that?”

You get the feeling this night won’t be easy on your pride, but that’s okay. You think you might be desperate enough by the time you get home.

“I suppose that wouldn’t be fair,” You whisper, and he snickers against your skin.

“No, I don’t think it would. You’ve got a lot to make up to me.”

“How do you want me to make it up to you?”

“Patience, sweetheart,” He murmurs. “I don’t plan to do anything until I have you in my bed.”

You whine, but you can also feel the limo starting to make the slow turn into Tsukki’s driveway. He sits you up, watching you fix your dress and smiling when your cheeks flush at the state of yourself. Your skin is hot, and your thighs tremble a little, and your hair’s come undone. And yet, Tsukki looks perfectly put together.

You hide behind your hair as he helps you out of the limo and walks you to the door. Lights flash behind you, and you hear one of the reporters mumble ‘ I didn’t realize the event ended ’ to the person beside him. Tsukki starts laughing the moment his front door closes, and you groan loudly while trudging toward the stairs.

“They’re gonna know , Tsukki.”

“You embarrassed?”

“Yes! Of course I am-” Before you can turn to him, you’re air-lifted over his shoulder. You start to scream, flailing while he takes the stairs to his room.

“Good. Then I want them to know.” He sets you on your feet by his bed, and you huff, fixing your dress.

You look around while he closes the door. You haven’t been here in ages, all of your time with him spent at your place. You turn slowly, taking in the familiar sight of his room. It’s so different being here, after all this time.

You’re so distracted by his room that you aren’t prepared for the fingers he puts on your forearm or the way he spins you toward him.

You’re equally unprepared for the hand he plants on your shoulder before shoving you hard. You yelp, falling flat on your back and bouncing on his mattress. By the time you find his eyes, he’s standing over you, loosening his tie.

His eyes are cold. “What do you want to apologize for first?”

“What?” You say dumbly, watching the tie come loose. His jacket goes next, and then his white dress-shirt.

“Which one, Y/n? Listening to too many people on the internet? Not believing me when I’d flirt with you?” He leans over you, his hands flat on the bed on either side of you. “Or not hearing me out that night? Causing this whole mess.”

“I didn’t cause that alone,” You argue, and his eyebrows lift with humor.

“You’re still talking back?” He stands, reaching for the button on his pants. “Guess we’ll start here then.”

“Gonna put my mouth to use?” You joke, but there’s a rush of heat that, funnily enough, soaks your panties right through. You stare down at his hands, watching the zipper slide down and feeling your mouth water a little bit.

“You ever done this before?” He mumbles, eyes trailing down your body hungrily as he hooks a thumb into the waistband of his boxers. You nod quickly, but he just raises a brow and lifts his other hand, still holding the black tie. “Like this?”

You stare, your heart thumping with excitement. “No,” You breathe. “Can’t say I have.”

He smirks down at you, beckoning you to him with two fingers. “On your knees.”

You scramble to kick your heels off and get into position at the end of the mattress. He stands over you and holds one hand out, looking down at you in amusement when you put both wrists in his hand.

“You’re a bit eager.” When you nod, he just drops your wrists.

Your heart drops a little. “Wha-” You gasp, because he’s sliding the tie over your eyes and knotting it in the back, whispering ‘ So close, sweetheart ’ in your ear. You moan, your thighs sliding open on the bed.

“Pinch me if something doesn’t feel right,” He murmurs distractedly, and you hear the shuffle of his pants on his skin. “ Hard, Y/n. You hear me?”

“ Mhm . Pinch,” You say, panting slightly. When he laughs, your panties start to stick to your skin.

“God, you want this so badly, don’t you?” The tip of his cock touches your lips, and you dart your tongue out right away, swirling it around the head. Tsukki sighs heatedly over you, and then his fingers tangle in your hair. “My own personal little whore.”

You groan, trying to take him in your mouth, but he uses his grip to hold you back.

“Say please.”

Your stomach flips hard, because you know ‘ please’ wouldn’t be enough.

“Please, Tsukki,” You whisper. “Make me your whore.”

He inhales sharply, and you decide right there that you want to hear him fall apart. When he touches your lips again and tightens his grip, you know you have no control here. So you just let your mouth fall open.

The first time he slides into your mouth, his cock hits the back of your throat, and you gag.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He chuckles. “Thought you wanted it rough.” You recover as quickly as you can, breathing deep through your nose and sucking hard when he pulls back. He groans under his breath and thrusts his hips again, humming when you take him properly. “ That’s it, Y/n. ” He pulls you off of him for a moment, and you whine quietly. “Can you keep taking it like that?”

“Stop-” You croak, breathing heavily. “- fucking asking , Tsukishima.”

There’s silence over you, and then he yanks your head back, talking right over the yelp you let out. “If you say so.”

You get no more chances to recover, your breath sputtered and coughed around him as he sets a pace that stings. You moan loudly while he fucks your throat, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth and falling to your chest. Your fingers twitch on his thighs, and, after a few moments listening to the soft groans he lets out over you, one of your hands moves down to your thigh and slides to your core. You barely get two fingers on your clit when his voice bites out.

“ Don’t -” He snaps. “- even think about it .”

You whine around him, earning a particularly hard thrust that slams against the back of your throat. You latch onto his thighs again, digging your nails in.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” He pants. “Not so fucking annoying. No choice but to listen.” You nod shallowly, unhinging your jaw a little more, until it hurts. He moans quietly. “Maybe you’ll listen when I tell you how pretty you look like this, baby. So fucking pretty, drooling all over my cock.”

Your whine is loud this time, and he laughs breathily. “You like that? Didn’t know you were into this, sweetheart – good to know.”

And then he pulls you right off him, your gasps echoing in his room. You cough, your chest heaving, but he doesn’t give you more time than that, his hands on your shoulders again. You’re less shocked when you’re shoved onto your back, and you’re too busy catching your breath to do much more than moan when he takes your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed.

Tsukki hooks his fingers into your panties and rips them down your thighs, laughing cruelly. “Aw, look at you. You’re a mess just from that?”

You dig your fingers into his comforter, still blindfolded. “You’re an ass- mm! ”

Tsukishima Kei’s just stuffed your own soiled panties in your mouth.

“Still talking too much,” He mutters, and you hear something hit the floor. You only realize it’s his knees when his fingers grip your thighs hard enough to bruise and his tongue flattens over your clit.

You scream, muffled, and arch your back on the mattress. Your fingers fly into his hair just as he’s dragging his tongue over your folds a second time, but he pulls away. He bites down hard on your thigh, ignoring the jolt of your body.

“I didn’t say you could touch me.” Your fingers cling to the covers again, and it takes everything in you not to grab him when he spits hard on your clit. “Better.”

He eats you out like that, his face buried between your thighs as you scream and moan and nearly make your fingers go numb from how hard you fist the blankets. You have no clue how long it’s been or when it had happened, but you realize eventually that he’s slipped two fingers into you, curling and spreading them against spots you didn’t even know existed. Your body twitches when he pushes up against your g-spot, and you grind your hips up toward his mouth unconsciously.

You pay for it immediately, his mouth and fingers leaving you. You start to complain, but it’s turned into a scream when his hand comes down hard on your overly sensitive clit.

“I really do have my work cut out for me, huh?” He pants, breathless and raspy. “You’re a lot of work, sweetheart.” Your eyes prickle with tears, and you shake your head hard. He huffs out a laugh, breath cold on your heated core. “No? You’re not a lot of work?” When you shake your head again, he coos at you condescendingly. “You promise to be good?” You nod, and he laughs again. “Okay, then. Spread your legs for me.”

You peel your aching fingers off of the blankets and hook them around your thighs, spreading your legs and pressing your knees toward your chest until it starts to hurt. You hear Tsukki’s pants hit the floor, and he groans openly down at you.

“God, you look so good like this,” He mutters under his breath. “Can I take a picture?”

Your heart jumps. You’d always thought you would never be comfortable with something like that, but the thought of Tsukki having a picture of you on his phone – a picture of you looking like this – has you clenching hard around nothing. You nod firmly, unconsciously pulling your thighs open even further.

He lets out a surprised breath, and then you hear him scrambling for his pants on the floor. “ Fuck- ” He hisses, throwing things around, and you hear the thump of his phone hitting the rug under his desk. “ Fuck, fuck- ” You start to giggle, the sound muffled but still audible. “Don’t fucking laugh at me, you fucking asshole – I wasn’t expecting you to say yes-”

Your laugh is loud now, but when you hear him stumble back over to you and feel his hand on the underside of your thigh, your stomach flips and your breath cuts short. The camera shutter goes off, and goosebumps break out over your skin, a soft moan leaving you.

“You’re into this too, sweetheart?” He asks, laughing to himself. His phone hits the bed somewhere beside you. “You like when I take pictures of you?” You nod, your face flushing hard, but he slides his cock through your folds before you have time to be embarrassed. You moan, feeling the tip bump up against your clit with each shallow thrust. “Maybe one day we can film it.”

You moan wantonly, and his own moan joins yours as he sinks into you in one slow thrust. Your breath leaves your lungs as he pulls back and slams his hips into yours. “You took me all at once, baby,” He groans, anchoring himself to your hips. “You must have missed me.”

You nod desperately, and you feel his weight drop over you on the mattress. His fingers hook gently into the blindfold, despite how roughly his hips collide with yours, and he tugs the material up to your forehead. You blink rapidly, squinting when the light hits your eyes and trying to readjust while Tsukki drives his cock into you.

When you finally do gain your bearings, the first thing you find is him. Your eyes lock with his, and your own widen drastically as you take him in. His face is flushed, a sheen of sweat glinting off his skin. His eyebrows are furrowed with concentration, and his arms are flexed as he drags you down to meet him halfway with each thrust.

Your eyes roll back into your head almost immediately, the sight too much to handle while he fucks you. Your moans come out louder now, and – although you’re still muffled – you’re infinitely glad you’re not doing this at your apartment, surrounded by thin walls and neighbors. Here, you can moan as loud as you want. Here, you don’t have to care about the way his headboard slams against the wall. Here, you can arch your back and scream his name, over and over again around your panties.

He hears it the third time it comes out, the syllables of his name garbled but clearly his. His expression changes, those furrowed brows creasing even more and his lips parting as he lets out a series of quiet moans every time he hears his own name.

“ Fuck, ” He says, letting your waist go and dropping down hard over you, his hands hitting the bed on either side of you. “ Fuck , Y/n. I love you-” Your vision gets blurry, and your eyes burn, but you only notice you’re crying when the tears stream down toward your ears. “Listen to you, screaming my name like that,” He pants, his hips stuttering for a moment. The realization that he’s close to finishing sends you hurtling toward your own orgasm. “So fucking perfect. Fucking perfect for me.”

His fingers dig into the material in your mouth, and he pries it out, tossing the panties somewhere behind him. Your jaw aches, but you forget it when he meets your eyes.

“Say it for me, sweetheart.”

“Tsukki-” You cry. “ Please, Tsukki- ” Your fingers itch to touch him. “Please, I love you – Can I-” You start to cry harder, your vision gone completely as you sob, the feeling of him slamming into you too much now.

“Yes, baby, yes-” His breath hitches when you clench around him, and he nods tightly. “You can touch me-”

Your fingers fly into his hair, and you drag him down roughly, smashing your lips to his. You both moan, and you ramble deliriously against his mouth. “ Love you, I love you, I- ”

He shudders over you, groaning as he stills with his hips pressed tight to yours. He spills into you, his body shaking against yours as he fills you. The feeling of it throws you right off the edge, and you cry against his lips while you come, your back twitching and arching toward his.

He’s collapsed onto you by the time you’re done, breathing hard in your ear. “ Fuck , Y/n,” He sighs. You wrap your legs tiredly around his waist, exhaustion taking you over.

“How did we do all that with my dress still on?” You whisper weakly, too tired to even smile when he starts to laugh.

“God, I love you. You’re so fucking stupid.”

That one does make you laugh. You feed off of each other, worsening until you’re both wheezing together.

Finally, he buries his face in your neck, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart lurches. “For?”

“Everything,” he says. “ Everything, Y/n. For saying the opposite of what I meant. For not saying the things I wanted to.”

You say nothing, just wrapping your arms tight around his neck. “I’m sorry, too. For not listening to the right person. And for thinking the worst of you just because I was scared.”

He stays quiet a moment, just breathing you in. “Does that mean you aren’t breaking up with me?”

You chew on your lip, suddenly nervous. “Does that mean we’re together?”

“I don’t think any of this was ever fake for me.”

You bring his face up to yours, kissing him deeply. “I don’t think it was for me, either,” You whisper against his lips. He smiles, pulling back to look down at you.

“Can I still ask you to be my girlfriend? My real girlfriend?”

You stare up at him a moment, and then your brow furrows. “I don’t think you ever asked me to be your girlfriend at all.”

He blanches.

“Oh, fuck.”

You remind him of it for the rest of his life.

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #tsukishima kei #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader

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