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uravitypng · 2 days

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Shameless smut for atsumu with a chubby reader?👉🏼👈🏼

you ask and i deliver <333 (because i can't help myself when it comes to writing about tsumu asdfghjk.) there may be some mistakes in this, it's only something short i wrote so hopefully you like this short shameless smut everyone !! i love atsumu with a chubby reader, here's a full fic i did with atsumu and a chubby reader (x)

"tsumu we're going to be late! our reservations are at half seven, we're meeting all the others in less than an hour." you're meant to be celebrating a msby win with the team and their partners but instead you're laying in your shared bed with your fiancee with your dress bunched up.

"don't blame me. it's yer fault for looking so hot. you can't blame me when my wife looks so good."

"wife? not yet." you try and pull your dress back down but atsumu isn't having it and swats your hand away, not letting you.

"shut yer trap, ya know what i mean." while keeping your dress bunched up he runs his large hands over your thick thighs, enjoying your soft skin underneath his hands.

you giggle at his response but your laugh is cut off as he places a kiss over your clothed clit making you gasp. " 's not my fault when you look so hot in that dress, clinging to all your curves like that. you're making me go crazy." he pulls down your underwear and throws them somewhere behind them not taking any notice to where, "we can be a little late."

"a little?" you snort as you stare of in the direction of your discarded clothes. he smirks and kisses your hip, pulling down your dress too at the top so that your tits are on display and your dress is only covering the middle part of your body. atsumu pulls down your bra and gropes your breasts.

"this is stupid," he says suddenly before he starts pulling up your dress to take it off completely and moves up to face you so he can look at how pretty you are.

"i thought you said it looked hot?" you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss him.

"you do! ya just look better with it off," he smirks and allows you to pull him down. kissing messily, all tongue and teeth, clashing , right in the moment, he just can't help himself when it comes down to you and you're not one to complain just as swept up around atsumu as he is with you.

his clothes come off just as rushed as yours did, hastily pulling down his jeans and boxers all at once. he quickly threw them behind him too, getting the same treatment as your clothes did.

atsumu lifted your thigh up, resting his palm at the bottom, where he's slung your thigh over his shoulder and he's folding your body as he plunges his fat cock into you. your wet heat envelops him and he groans, "jesus baby, i love you s'much."

he ruts into you hard and fast, causing your plush body to jiggle with each thrust and atsumu doesn't know where to look, you look like a goddess in his eyes and every inch of you is perfect he just doesn't know where to look. your tummy rolls that are squished together, your breasts that freely bounce without any bra, your cute face and chubby cheeks, your pretty pussy that keeps sucking him back in with every thrust, not wanting him to go, leaving a creamy ring at the base of his cock with every thrust. he can't decide where to look- you're perfect.

you admire how handsome your fiancee is above you, bleached dyed hair that's became messy after him jumping on you, a light sheen of sweat covers his forehead and his lips plump, looking slightly swollen from how much you've been kissing. you reach a hand up and tug his hair, pulling him down so he's close enough for you to kiss again and you do kiss.

one hand is still holding onto your thigh occasionally squeezing the softness making him harder. his other hand is holding onto one of your hands, fingers intertwined. "love you too 'tsumu!" you moan and you're gripping onto his hand even tighter.

you turn up to dinner late, very late.

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jjeulip · 1 day

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kuroo. osamu. tendou. oikawa.

"stop looking at me like that" you muttered.

he softly chuckles at you as his face gets closer to you still staring at you like you're the most purest thing on this earth. "you're cute" he whispered a little. alright- kinda hot.

suna. nishinoya. semi.

"so why'd you suddenly stop texting me last night?"

he looks at you with a question mark look on his face. "what?,.... .-. oh., i fell asleep." and when he sees your reaction he couldn't help but laugh softly. He wraps his hands around your waist and give your neck several light kisses. "sorry ma'am, i will make it up to you now yea?"

atsumu. tsukishima. iwaizumi.

"___" he calls out your name from behind.

"wha-" bang! he suddenly pinned you down on the table. As your back hit the table, an 'ow' came out of your mouth, you looked at him who is on top of you right now. "what was that for?" there was a smile on his stupidly handsome face as he looks down. "just recreating one of my dream's scenes last night y'know?"

©jjeulip | all rights served.

this was short TT

#haikyuuxreader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu reaction #haikyuu fluff #sports anime #suna rintaro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu headcanons #oikawa imagine #haikyuu nishinoya

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mysterystarz · 3 days

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little oikawa braindump

oikawa tooru traced you with his eyes when you walked into a room. there was something about your presence that was transformative to him — everything about the space just changed with your very existence.

like any university student would do, he saunters over to your seat, taking his place next to you. you throw him a polite smile (nothing too crazy) and he spends the lecture taking notes and wondering if he can learn your name.

eventually, this silent flirtation with oikawa becomes too obvious, and you extend an offer to be friends.

“you’re smart,” you reason with him one afternoon after a particularly difficult lecture. “you’re top of the class. i need that spot. you know what they say. keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.”

he spends his time at the library with you marveling at your traits. the choice of pen, the way you smooth over your hair when it gets too messy. he loves the way you furrow your brow when something’s a bit too tough.

and you, you loved tooru for his determination. loved him for the way he motivated you during midterms and treated you to ice cream when you felt down.

one day, the two of you are on a park bench, and oikawa thinks he’s found the piece to his puzzle. he’s hesitant, and a bit shaky (only you could do that to him) as he whispers his confession into the spring air.

you giggle your affirmation and kiss him sweetly on the lips.

#nova scribbles #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa headcanons #oikawa fluff #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #hq x you #hq x reader #hq fluff

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romeavecryst · 3 days

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Fragments of Love ˖ ࣪⊹

K. TUSKISHIMA x Fem!reader ˖ ࣪⊹

Sum: Loving Tsukishima wasn’t easy, and eventually the fraction of love he gave her wasn’t enough to make up for his words anymore.

Warnings: Angst, toxic relationships, cursing, not proceed ofc!!

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

It was to perfect, wasn’t it? Sure she knew what she had gotten herself into when she began dating him knowing it wasn’t easy. But every couple has downs right? But one fight turned into one every week, and one every week turned into almost every day. They’d go days without having a meaningful conversation or even checking up on one another. The smile she once greeted him with slowly disappearing every time he saw her, she looked exhausted.

She was, she was tired of begging for his attention his love. The fucking bare minimum, why couldn’t he give it to her? Because he simply didn’t want to? ‘

‘Just leave him.’

She couldn’t, she stayed because even after the cruel words he said to her even after he got in her face even after everything. She came back to him every single time. Because he apologized.

He’d apologize, holding her close to him and tell her that he was sorry and he loved her. He’d show her so much love, because deep down he knew he was wrong for what he’s done.

That she never. Ever. Deserved the things he said yet he said them to her. He’d break her heart over and over again and she stayed. And everyone remind him that, simply tell him that he didn’t deserve her. That he took her generosity for granted, and that someday she won’t be as forgiving, that she won’t run back into his arms.

Their voices echoed outside the gym, they had been arguing all day and it finally erupted. Him complaining that she’s taking up his practice time, that he has better things to do then sit her and argue with “ a fucking-!”

“A fucking what?! A fucking what Kei!”

“A stupid fucking bitch!”

“Fuck you! You don’t care about anyone but your fucking self!”

He scoffed going back and forth with her, his face close with her as there screaming match became more heated. The sound of the gym doors opening being drowned out as they yelled. “You put your hands on her I’ll put you down my self.”

Tsukishima turned around quickly the feeling of his captains hand grabbing his arm, “like I’d fucking touch her.” He said.

Daichi glanced at his fist then to him “but you thought about it.” His voice stern. Tsukishima scoffed pulling away from Daichi walking to the gym, not sparing her a glance. As sick as it was she wouldn’t be surprised if he ever laid his hands on her, he’s punched walls and thrown things at her.

Daichis eyes met hers, her makeup running her eyes bloodshot. “Think it’s best you head home for the night.”

So she did.

And when it was time for his cycle to repeat, she stood there her eyes lifeless as she looked at him. Moving her head when he tried touching her face. Her anger was still fresh. Give her time. Give her time to come back like she dose.

Time was given and she didn’t run back into his arms, she didn’t accept his apologies. Days had passed and he was going crazy, the messages he sent being left on read over and over. Her never responding to them even when he would curse as her and tell her stop being dramatic in the voicemails he sent. He couldn’t stand how she avoided him in the halls like he was nothing. He was weak.

He’d never admit it would he that he was weak without her. It made him sick how dependent he was for her. Once two weeks had pass he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please.” A broken sob came from his throat.

“Go home Kei.” She spoke turning around to face him more.

Tsukishima was on his knees his head touching the pavement as he bowed apologetically, “I’m begging you please.” He cried.

He had finally looked up to her hoping there was something, even a simple frown in her brows. But nothing, she faced him emotionless. Just like last time. He’d sucked the last bit of life out of her, that when he finally decided to care it was too late. He wanted her to laugh in his face right now tell him how pathetic he was; crying at her feet like this. Yet she just stood there her hands tucked away in her sleeves her arms crossed.

“You used to make me feel good about myself, but now you make me feel like shit.” She spoke softly.

“Like I’m not good enough, or interesting enough-“

“I don’t think that..” he started.

“No shut up. Because that’s bullshit Tsukishima! You’ve told me yourself,” she scoffed. “Telling me I’m not good enough, that I’m lame, that I’m annoying that I’m unlovable.” She said her voice cracking.

His heart broke because she was right. He never had anything good to say, he’d done nothing but degrade her for months. That he was the cause of all of this because he couldn’t show her his love.

“I hate that it’s taken me till now to open my eyes,” no, no,no.

“Because I am enough. I am interesting, I am worthy of fucking love!” She spoke her voice stern.

She was worthy of love, yet he never showed that to her. He wasn’t worthy of hers, he didn’t deserve the chance she gave him. And she was going to leave him, this was what he was so afraid of. Trusting letting someone in. But how could he feel that what when the person he treated so horribly let him in so easily over and over again, he treated her like a fucking chore. Not his girlfriend.

“We’re done Kei. Over. I’m transferring, because I can’t be around you. I’m blocking and removing you on socials, don’t fucking reach out to me. Because with me leaving I don’t know what you’ll do. Maybe you’ll get a new girlfriend and treat her like a fucking human being.”

No, no he didn’t want a new girlfriend. He wanted her, she was leaving him. Leaving him for good. Moving schools so she doesn’t have to she his fucking face anymore. Blocking him so she doesn’t receive messages of him threatening and bullying her then begging for forgiveness. Over and over.

Broken sobs came from him as he stood up walking towards her, pleading her not to go. Just to give him a chance he’ll make it right this time. He promises. He promised to love her. To cherish her. That nobody could love him like she did because she was lovable. Because he was so fucking in love with her.

His head pressed against her front door as he begged her to open it, that he’ll make it right. A loud thud of his fist hitting the door as he cried. “Go home Tsukishima or I’m calling your brother to pick you up.” She spoke her back to the door.

“Don’t do this.. please.”

His brother had eventually picked him up with Yamaguchi and his father. When he got home he stood in his room phone in hand a message typed out to her. The message was green when he sent it.

“FUCK!” He yelled throwing his phone. Anger, was all he felt Anger and sadness. As he thrashed his room tears streaming down his face. He fucking hated her how could she do this to him. How could she leave him. That she made him feel so loved and she just left him. God how pathetic, she was a fucking loser, leave him? How could she leave him in so much pain?

“You’re actually joking me right…”

Tsukishimas eyes met his best friends. “What..”

“You’re blaming her.. how dare she leave?”Tadashi scoffed. Tsukishimas eyes left his looking over the others that sat with him during break Kageyama and Hinata.

The team stayed out of his business of corse but tsukishima brought this on himself rambling about her, because he was obsessed. Because he couldn’t admit he was in the wrong. That he was wrong, but how dare she leave right? Because it’s all on her.

“You ruined her.” The voice of the team’s manager spoke up.

Everyone looked at her, before Tsukishima could open his mouth she turned towards him “You ruined her, she let you hurt her over and over again. And she stayed. But when she’s finally fed up with your bullshit. When she became self aware of her self worth it’s selfish? Shame on her for wanting to be loved right? Shame on her for knowing she is so much more than you ever deserved.” She scoffed.

Kiyoko looked Tsukishima in the eyes “Thanks to you, she won’t ever be able to let anyone in as easily again, she won’t be able to feel loved because you tore her apart, you didn’t love her.”

“I did, I do love her. Fuck you, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spoke standing up.

Kiyoko rolled her eyes. “You don’t, you never fucking loved her because if you did she still be here. If you loved her you would have showed her.”

“But you’re a fucking insecure loser.” She finished her tone filled with venom.

Tsukishima was speechless. Kiyoko was right, that if he loved her she would still be there. With him smiling, holding his hand. But she wasn’t.

He ruined her, ruined her sanity and self respect for herself. Shame on her for having an enough to leave him so she could fix herself. Because all of a sudden once she left once he knew he lost her he started caring. She wouldn’t let anyone love her in the way she deserved because of him, because of him she’ll create a barrier never to let anyone in again.

Because he only gave her a fragment of his love.

it’s very much ranting apologies.. listened to ceilings on repeat while writing this!!

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haikyu-mp4 · 1 day

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Saving up

word count; 2761 – f!reader, this is not my best writing but I got the idea and just had to write it

Ever since your first year in high school, you thought Kunimi Akira was shy. He didn’t interact with many people and you could barely imagine what his voice sounded like if you tried to. Then you became desk mates for your second year and you weren’t so sure anymore, because now you heard his voice all the time.

The volleyball player would rest his elbow on his desk and lean a cheek on his hand so he could look over at you, who diligently tried taking notes. Your class had a study hour halfway through the day to ensure your notes were up to date before going to lunch, but Kunimi often used it to sleep. Often, but less frequently this year.

When he didn’t sleep, he was watching you. Now and then, he would reach over with a pencil in his hand to draw something stupid that messed up your perfect notes. Sometimes it was just a line across the page and other times it was simple drawings.

You would glare sideways at him, holding your pen up like it was a weapon and it never failed to make him smile. “Sorry, I thought those were my notes.” he would say, so shamelessly teasing you and sticking his tongue out.

People in your class had noticed how the two of you started spending time together even when you didn’t have to, like how you would come over at lunch to give him the juice box he ‘accidentally’ left behind on his desk. Or how he would come slightly late to practice because you asked him to help with a subject he was better at.

A couple of friends started teasing you about it, mentioning how the two of you kept acting all cute and how disgusting it was. You laughed with them, but you weren’t sure if you should. Was this anything more than Kunimi distracting himself from boredom? You couldn’t call what you had very romantic yet, which it didn’t have to be, but you had hope brewing in your stomach that this might turn into something. You’re quite the hopeless romantic.

“Speaking of dating, what’s you guys’ dream date?” one of your friends asked before scooping a spoon of yoghurt into her mouth. “Because I would love a romantic picnic in my near future.”

Your friends all pitched in as the conversation focused on one person at a time until it ended up on you. Unbeknownst to you, Kunimi strained every muscle to hear your answer from where he sat just a few tables away. “I think an art museum would be cute. You can take nice pictures and either make fun of the paintings or appreciate them. Then maybe go for hot chocolate after.” you explained, fiddling with your fingers as your eyes lit up from imagining it. That was your style. Kunimi nodded to himself and mentally pressed save on the information.

When the volleyball tournament started, your friends asked to go see the school’s team in action, and you perked up when you remembered Kunimi was on the team. You nodded eagerly and all of you made plans to go after school. It was lonely during the school day as you kept glancing at the empty desk beside you. Somewhere out there Kunimi was playing volleyball while you were stuck here without him.

All of you rushed out of the classroom as soon as classes ended, switching into outdoor shoes before making your way to the bus stop. You could definitely be accused of looking a bit too excited.

It wasn’t the most crowded game, so you found some good seats and the team was already playing. Your cheers blended into the classic school cheer, filling you with school spirit. There was no use denying that your eyes were stuck on Kunimi, but you noticed how he wasn’t giving it his all. This made you frown, curious as to why when you knew how much he liked the sport.

It was the third set and all the other players were getting visibly tired as their legs fought against them and their sweat seemed to be flying.

But not Kunimi. You watched as Yahaba, the setter, started setting up even more attacks for Kunimi. Subconsciously, you started leaning forward in your seat and got even more engaged, excitedly yelling his name whenever he scored a point. When his teammates patted him on the back, you finally saw that smile. The smile he would give you when he seemed proud of your reaction to his teasing. An excited smile.

“That’s typical Kunimi,” one of your friends said. She had been following the volleyball team closely because of her interest in the sport. Despite getting rejected from the manager position, she still came to watch, which you admired greatly. The hope of Aoba Johsai going to nationals didn’t end with Oikawa.

“How so?” you asked, hoping she could hear you over the crowd.

“He always saves his energy, acting all lazy for the first sets and then using that energy when everyone else gets tired.”

“Oh, how interesting.”

When the games finished for the day, Aoba Johsai had still not lost. You and your friends were walking out of the building and you listened with a grin as they kept excitedly discussing the highlights of the last game until you heard someone calling your name.

You turned around, eyes scanning the area until they settled on Kunimi. Your face lit up and your guy friend made kissy noises before one of the girls hit him over the head. Agreeing with on where to meet them later, you met Kunimi halfway. “Hi,” he breathed out.

“Hey. You were great!” was all you mustered to say, feeling a bit shy even though he didn’t know how hard you had been staring at him earlier.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he said, squinting at you accusingly.

“We decided on it earlier today,” you told him, looking to the side for a second as you hesitated. “I got lonely without my deskmate.”

Kunimi cursed his ears which suddenly felt a bit too warm. Is there a chance you came to see him? He knew he had to go back to the team any second now, so he cleared his throat to break the spell you put him in. “I’ll be back to bother you soon,” he assured you, making you chuckle.

“Hopefully not too soon, you guys need to go to nationals!” you said encouragingly, leaning on the pads of your feet.

He nodded, glancing over his shoulder and back at you. “Fine, but I miss you too.” You hadn’t even said you missed him, but the sentiment was there. Hearing him say it so directly made your heartbeat quicken and you weren’t sure what to say.

A silence fell over you as you leaned a bit closer. Kunimi slowly put his arms around your back and yours went around his neck as you pulled each other in for a soft hug. It recharged your battery and you could swear you heard him take in a deep breath before you pulled away. A bit awkwardly, you stepped back from each other.

“Good luck tomorrow, Kunimi.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

Kunimi had the faintest thought that he might have jinxed it as they were on the bus back to the school. They lost in the second game of the day, not even making it to the finals. He should be frustrated. He should be so angry that they were defeated, but he wasn’t. Because the next school day, he could meet up for class and see you.

You didn’t mention their loss, which he appreciated since he wasn’t sure how to explain that it didn’t bother him that much. It did irk him how your smile still seemed a bit more pitiful than sweet, so Kunimi tried to do everything like you always did. Draw in your book, bump your arm and steal sips from your iced tea. Thankfully, it seemed to work, as you gradually got back to your normal teasing and Kunimi could hear your laugh again.

At some point, the doodles he left in your book moved from where they ruined your notes to where there was still space left as if he wanted you to leave them there. You paused for a second instead of pretending to attack him. Then Kunimi would watch with interest as you started adding to his drawings, making them more detailed or into something completely different. It was fun, knowing he could steal your attention away like that. Maybe this is working out.

“Would you teach me to play volleyball?” you asked him one day, quite suddenly, which made him choke on the iced tea because he tried to speak at the same time. “Karma,” you mumble, smirking and taking your bottle back.

“You want to learn volleyball?”

”That’s what I said.” He stared at you for a moment before shrugging.

That’s how you ended up outside of the gym before his practice. He told you someone was using the gym for extra practice, so you just asked to borrow a ball and went outside instead. The weather was quite nice, and you were not that used to seeing Kunimi with the sun on his face. It suited him.

He showed you how to receive, telling you to squat a bit with the ball instead of flailing your arms too much. It kind of worked out. The ball eventually started moving back towards him after a lot of laughter and attempts. Yahaba walked past at some point and did a dramatic double-take when he saw who was spending extra time practising. And with a girl, nonetheless. He totally took a picture for the group chat that Kunimi would shamelessly save later.

After doing this for a while, he asked you to try and bump it a bit higher. You tried with a focused look on your face and it went off a bit to the side, so he moved to catch it. “If you get it up above my head,” he gestured where his arm to show you. “I can set it up for you. Then you hit it with your palm like bam to spike it back,” he instructed, demonstrating with the ball.

You nodded, still unsure if you would be able to, but you were a bit excited to try. Using some beginner’s luck, you managed to bump it up high enough for him to set. Your eyes were glued to the ball as it came back towards you. You lifted your arm and hit your palm against it, watching it fly sharply back at Kunimi.

“Grea-” Right into his forehead. You covered your mouth with a gasp, running over to where he was now holding his head.

“I’m so sorry, Kunimi!” you yelled, holding his shoulders to make him look at you as you begged for forgiveness. “I didn’t even think I would hit it.”

“I didn’t think you would either,” Kunimi teased with a slight strain in his voice from the pain, naturally resting his free hand on your hip. When he finally removed the hand from his face, you winced at the red mark on his forehead. He was moving his face weirdly as if checking all the parts were still there, and it was so cute that you weren’t sure if you were breathing at that moment. “At least you didn’t get my nose,” he said, laughing a bit which made you smile, relieved.

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he assured you, suddenly very aware of how close you stood and how you were holding each other. He stuttered and you noticed at the same time, making the both of you take a step away from each other. Your cheeks were burning from the embarrassment of hitting him with the ball like that and then this. “I have practice now, though. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you.”

Once again, your friends were teasing you relentlessly. “You hit him in the face?” Their cackles rang through the air and you hid your face in your hands.

“I forced him to teach me just so I could spend time with him and then I bruised his perfect forehead, what’s wrong with me?” you complained, definitely feeling a tad dramatic.

“Shut up. He was probably thrilled that you took the initiative, that lazy bastard.” someone said, and you lifted your head to glare at him for the comment. Taking in a deep breath, you cross your arms on the table and lean on them.

“I want to kiss his pretty lips so bad but I’m not even sure he likes me like that,” you mumbled.

“Now that is just pathetic,” another friend answered. Brutal. “He obviously likes you, now stop talking to us about your dreams and start chasing them.”

You looked across the cafeteria, finding the guy with the middle part who looked bored as he listened to a friend talking. “I just want that little bit of extra effort, you know?”

“Why haven’t you asked her out? I’m pretty sure she would say yes,” Kindaichi wondered as the two were getting ready for another practice.

“It’s not the right time yet,” Kunimi answered, not sparing his friend a glance.

“Don’t tell me you’re saving your energy until the last round for dating, too,” Kindaichi said, some disbelief painted between the words because he hoped that wasn’t the truth. He thought you deserved better than that, but then again, who was he to judge?

Kunimi frowned, mumbling something under his breath and putting his jersey on. “Not really, I was saving up money.”

Kindaichi looked confused. “How’s that relevant?”

“She told her friends she wanted to go to an art museum,” he said under his breath because he didn’t want anyone to overhear. “If I went all out and asked her out right away, we couldn’t go where she wanted.”

Now Kindaichi was glad he wasn’t currently dating anyone, because how could he compare to this? He didn’t think Kunimi would ever beat him in effort. “So, you’re still saving up for the first date?” he asked, checking if he heard him correctly.

Kunimi finally smiled a bit, lifting two pieces of paper, tickets, to show them off. “Just got them, now I just need to ask.”

“I was wondering if you would like to go with me to the art museum tomorrow,” he asked, holding out two tickets for you to see. It was for the best museum you could go to from where you were, which you had been eyeing and wondering if you should go to even if you had to go alone. You looked at the tickets in his hand and then back up at him with the most entrancing sparkly eyes he had ever seen. That’s what gave him the guts to add “As a date.”

“That sounds perfect, Kunimi.” You slung your arms around his waist in a hug and he hugged you back, making his soft chuckles ring in your ear while his breath hit your neck. It gave you goosebumps and you stayed in the hug for a second longer than necessary just to enjoy it.

Indeed, it was perfect. The two of you took lots of pictures, getting all the best angles for Instagram and laughing at the bad ones. Kunimi wasn’t the most educated on art, but he liked hearing you talk about it. You were watching a particularly grand painting, giving him your thoughts on the artist’s mindset while painting it. When you looked over to see if he was following, he was already looking at you like you were the one who painted it. He laced his fingers with yours, holding your hand through the whole thing and sometimes making funny comments when the artworks were especially difficult to defend. When you were done, you could truly say it was everything you imagined and more. Kunimi could confidently admit he never spent his money on anything better.

And after you treated the two of you to hot cocoa, he followed you home. At your door, he reached around your back like he had done before, but instead of tucking his head in your neck, he put his lips on yours. What a sweet kiss it was, satisfying every dream you had about it.

Kunimi was never shy or too lazy. He just saved up to get you what you deserved.

masterlist

#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #hq #haikyu fluff #kunimi akira #kunimi x reader #aoba johsai #seijoh

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eggyrocks · 3 days

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bites -> h. iwaizumi

now playing: the chamber pot was full by iris bilinsky

main masterlist

tags: iwaizumi x gn!reader, hurt/comfort

word count: 3.3k

warnings: illusions to childhood trauma, destructive coping mechanisms, unstable relationship, arguments, abandoment, death of a family member, language, 3rd person pov, they/them pronouns for reader, not proofread

minors dni & other rules

an: if no one else got me, i bet on losing dogs got me. can i get an amen

It’s easier to bite than it is to be bitten.

And when the first few years of your life leave you with angry, ragged bite marks all over your body, the imprints of familiar teeth disfiguring your skin, it’s something you learn quickly. You’d do anything to stop it. You’d present your neck in submission. You’d scatter at the sight of bared teeth. You’d eventually start biting back.

The train rocks them slightly, their shoulders drifting just a touch left, and then just a touch right. The low noises of the train pulling forwards on the track are blocked out by the headphones on their head, soft and sweet music in their ears. The sky is rich and dark, an empty basin untouched by the lights of skyscrapers and phone screens. It’s nice, almost. Peaceful.

They’re not quite used to the city yet, even though it’s been years. Sometimes, in the morning, when their mind is awake, but their eyes are still closed shut and the sunlight is turning their eyelids a bright orange, they’re afraid that they’re back home. That they will open their eyes and be there. Where it’s quieter, but the buzz of cicadas was constant. Back home, where every noise was a threat, and every threat made their spine curl inwards.

The noises of the city around them are their first comfort. Noise isn’t something to be feared, here. When they hear it, the voices of strangers and rumbling of the subway beneath them float up into their open window, they can finally open their eyes, and feel at ease.

Steadily, the train eases into a stop. Their eyes drift towards the sign, and note their stop is still further down the line, that they’re still nowhere near as close to home as they would like to be.

Today was their mother’s funeral. They didn’t go. They cried, and then felt like they had no right to. They drank a bottle of something that made their throat burn, and then hurled the glass bottle against the wall, just so they could watch it shatter. And when they left, not even bothering to lock the door behind them, the shards were still scattered across the hardwood floor, reflecting the sunlight that poured in through the window.

It's been a day of idling wandering. Of trying so desperately not to think of the one thing that has been on their mind. A day of trying to become numb. A fleshy and pliable mound of nothing, free of bite marks, unbothered by the cicadas.

Their body is tired and their mind worn, eyes red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears. They just want to go home. To step over the glass and wake up to noise and pretend that their mother isn’t dead or alive, but just a faded, blurry memory that could be real, or might not be.

Vibrations from their pocket drag them out of their thoughts. They clear their throat as if they’re going to speak, but they know they’re not going to answer. It doesn’t matter who’s calling. There’s nothing they need to say.

Hajime.

They sniffle and clear their throat again. And then, they place their phone back in their pocket, letting it ring, hoping that he will give up after he gets their voicemail the first time.

When they first met Iwaizumi Hajime, they had a school uniform and a bag full of contraband. Loose stolen cigarettes, water bottles filled with clear alcohol, a handful of lighters that could barely produce a flame.

It was dark, and classes had let out hours ago, but yet they lingered. Wandering on campus, trying not to be seen by anyone else that might still be lingering. The wind kept blowing out the lighter, and they were struggling to keep the tip of the cigarette red. They leaned up against the outside of a building, focused on the heat on the tips of their fingers.

“What are you doing?”

They didn’t flinch. Getting caught never made them flinch. They were used to it, at this point. Used to being the delinquent, the one always in trouble. The one who caused problems. What was one more issue. What was another problem. They turned their head to face the person who called out, lip already furled up in a snarl.

It was some relief to them to see that it wasn’t anyone of authority. Not really. Just two dickheads from one of their sports teams. They recognized one. Oikawa Tooru. Pretty and imposing, adored by all. It was impossible not to know who he was, even if you tried. And they tried.

The second one, they didn’t recognize. The only thing they remember about him from that night is how they looked at them. Frowning slightly, head tilted. Not looking disgusted like his friend did. Not looking scared or worried or uncomfortable like all the other looks they were used to getting. He looked at them in a way that was unfamiliar. In a way that made them take a step back.

They had fixed their glare on Oikawa. “None of your fucking business,” they called back to him, voice as nasty as it always was, and lighter finally catching the end of their cigarette, tip cherried.

There was this look Oikawa gave them. One that made them want to snarl and snap their jaw like a dog. One that told them so clearly that he thought he was better than them. That he was a figure of superiority, and they were filth to him.

He didn’t say anything else, though. His friend nudged him with an elbow and gave him one look. Then they were off, walking away as if nothing had happened. As if they heard none of your fucking business and accepted it earnestly.

And they were relieved to be alone again.

They had noticed pretty quickly, though, that the friend, the one with the look, was hard to avoid after that. He didn’t say anything to them, not for a while. But he kept an eye on them. Head turning to look at them in class, not bothering with discretion. He always found them after classes, hiding somewhere on campus.

Eventually, they learned his name. Eventually, he started asking if he could walk them home. Iwaizumi asked seven times before they said yes.

Their eyes were on the ground, watching Iwaizumi’s stride, and how it matched with theirs. Their hand gripped tightly on the strap of their bag. “Why’d you want to walk me home so bad?” they had asked, breaking a long stretch of silence.

Iwaizumi shrugged. He didn’t look at them. “I don’t know. I just want to. No harm to it, so just let me, alright?”

So they did.

Every night, after they avoided going home for as long as possible and Iwaizumi was sweaty and out of breath from practice, they walked home. He would always stand back and watch as they opened the door and closed it behind them. Then, Iwaizumi would turn around and walk back in the direction they came from.

Iwaizumi became a lot of things to them. Too many to list off. It was overwhelming to think about, sometimes. They way that he became so intwined with their life that it was hard to remember what it was like before he was in it.

He made life easier, for them. Iwaizumi would laugh and it would make them smile. They woke up in the morning and their first thought was not to listen for the potential creak of footsteps outside of their door, but it was of Iwaizumi and his crooked grin and the way his voice sounded over the phone. And when things got hard, they would close their eyes and grit their teeth and endure, thinking of how it would all be okay once they could sneak out the window and slip into Iwaizumi’s.

His fingers were running along their scalp, weaving between the roots of their hair and a thin line of spit connected their lips. It broke when he opened his mouth to say, “I love you,” for the first time.

At the time, I love you didn’t seem like enough. Because Iwaizumi was more than just someone to love. He made breathing easier. He dragged his teeth along the skin of their neck and left bite marks that meant something new. They said it back in a voice that sounded like a strangers, and they meant it. But it never felt like enough. Not for Iwaizumi.

And then, after two years of a love that felt like it took up all the air in the room, he left. Iwaizumi left.

They weren’t mad. It wasn’t anger or rage. It was this heartbreak that felt like nausea. This cramping, pounding pain in the chest that doubled them over, that made them shake. This desperation to cling to him and this internal begging to him, to the universe, to anyone, for it to not be true. For him to stay, by their side, where they thought he was supposed to be.

But it was true. Iwaizumi was leaving. Going to a different country without them. Going to live a different life without them. Going to become a new person without them. And it didn’t matter how sweetly he delivered the news, how he held onto them as he did. It didn’t make it hurt less.

Hurt dogs bite. They snap their jaws out of fear of getting hurt worse. And that was all they were ever taught to do.

He’s been back for over a year, now. Living in the same city as them. Orbiting the same circles as them. Iwaizumi’s different now. They’re different now. But it didn’t take long after his return for them to collide again. In bars. In coffee shops. In rooms with locked doors.

Every time they do, they feel like they can forgive him for leaving. When they’re deep into the night together or there’s alcohol in their veins or Iwaizumi’s kissing them like he used to. It’s in those moments they feel like they can be together, like they were. But then when their thoughts get clearer and the sun rises, they remember how the abandonment felt, and how they never truly got over it. They remember how they could never, ever forget, and certainly could not forgive. And they bite.

The train stops again. The doors open, and no one steps off. No one steps on. Iwaizumi left a voicemail. They don’t listen. They don’t want to hear his voice. But they look at the transcription of his words. Where are you? Please call me. Don’t do this, okay? Please.

When he calls again, they swipe the notification away, determined to ignore him, determined not to find comfort in him again. The tip of their thumb hits taps on their messages, scrolling through their dozens of unread texts. They have some from Iwaizumi, which they ignore. There’s plenty from distant relatives, grandparents, siblings. They’re full of admonishments and curses and lectures.

Some are nice, from friends, some acquaintances, wishing them well and giving awkward, unsure condolences. They have one from Oikawa.

9:12 PM: Stop doing this to him.

It was always up and down with Oikawa. He never thought them worthy enough of Iwaizumi and was always quick to point out their mistakes and flaws and issues. But they would always remember the night Oikawa had drunkenly confessed to them after Iwaizumi’s return that he hopes it works out for the both of them. That Iwaizumi was better with them around. That they just need to get their shit together.

They sigh and pocket their phone again. It did little to help.

For the rest of the ride, they ignored the constant calls from Iwaizumi, and let the voicemails pile up, until there was no more space for them.

He’d given up by the time they reached their stop, and the sun had fully dipped behind the horizon. They step out of the station and onto the street, one song playing on a loop, and walk lazily back towards their apartment. It’s an early summer night, the air pleasant, not too sticky with humidity. They can feel the substances drain from their veins as they start to gain some sense of clarity.

Their shoulders are drooped and feet dragging by the time they reach their front door. Sloppily, they push their key in, missing the first two times, before they push their hip into the door, ready to stumble into bed and sleep so long they forget about the fact that their mother is dead.

Once they stagger into the kitchen, though, they freeze. He’s there. Iwaizumi is there, one hand holding a trash bag, the other pressing a phone to his ear. “-yeah, no I’ll call you back. They just got here.”

He hangs up then, slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans. They stand there, frozen at the sight of him. There’s no shattered glass bottle on the floor. There’s no stains of alcohol on the wall. There is just Iwaizumi, exhausted.

Before they can even full process his presence, he’s dropping the trash bag on the ground and walking towards them, arms extending and pulling them tightly into his chest. And it’s in his embrace, suddenly encased in a familiar warmth and smell, that they snap back into reality. They squirm, palms of their hands pressed flat against his chest and shoving him away. “What are you doing?” they ask, step back and away from him.

Iwaizumi lets go, and he looks at them. The same look he had on the first night they had ever seen him, back in high school. It’s one that they’ve gotten used to over the years. Curiosity and concern. Iwaizumi wears the urge to protect them the same as he always has. “Where have you been?” he asks, voice hoarse and worn. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

They toss their keys on to their countertop. “Don’t worry about it,” they dismiss, turning their back on him and opening the refrigerator, eyes scanning for an unopened bottle of alcohol. Whatever kind will work. They’re just feeling too sober.

But Iwaizumi is a step behind them, and he juts his knee into the fridge, closing the door. They turn again, arms crossed and glaring to see that he is glaring right back down at them. “What’s your problem today?” they demand, aggravated, aggressive.

“Don’t do this,” Iwaizumi pleads, trying to keep his own frustrations clear from his tone. “Not today. Just let me be here for you.”

They scoff, and roll their eyes, opening the fridge once more, swooping down to snatch up and can of beer before Iwaizumi closes it once more. “Just so you can leave again in the morning?”

It’s mean. It’s unnecessary. But they can’t help it. It comes naturally to them, to throw it back in his face in a moment like this. They don’t know why they do it. They don’t get any sense of satisfaction when the words hit his face, when they make it drop. It just twists their gut in this awful sort of way.

The can of beer opens with a hiss, and they take a hefty gulp. Iwaizumi watches, and balls his hands into fists by his side. “Drinking’s only going to make it worse,” he warns, voice thick. It only earns another scoff from them, and Iwaizumi takes a step closer to them. They take a step away, their back hitting the counter behind them.

“What are you doing here?” they ask, holding the can of beer in front of their lips, using it as a barrier between them and Iwaizumi’s words.

“No one knew where you were,” he tells them, strained. “I’ve been trying to figure out where you went and what the fuck happened all day.”

They shrug. “I went out. I dunno.”

He’s unimpressed. “Did you got to the funeral?” he asks.

The words make them flinch. It makes them uneasy to hear those words spoken aloud. “No. Did you?”

Iwaizumi frowns. He hated their mother. He’s always hated her. He wouldn’t honor her in life and he wouldn’t honor her in death. “No. Where were you all day?”

“Why’s it fucking matter?”

Iwaizumi inhales. They can see the breath rise and fall in his broad shoulders. “Cut the shit, okay? I’m sick of it,” he snaps. “You’re really starting to piss me off with this. Stop acting like people don’t care about you. Stop acting like I don’t care about you. I do care about you and it makes me fucking worried when you just disappear-“

“You disappeared,” they remind him, pointing a finger against the center of his chest. “You left me, and you weren’t worried about me then, so you don’t get to be worried now.”

He shakes his head. “I was worried. I never stopped worrying. Being away from you fucking sucked for me too,” he insists, trying to keep a control on the volume of his voice, but it wavers.

They cry when they’re angry. They can’t help it. They hate it. It makes them feel weak and emotional. But their throat gets tight and their eyes prick and they just can’t stop themself. “It sucked for you but it was hell for me! I was stuck with her and all I wanted was you and if I couldn’t have you, then I just wanted to hear your voice but you never fucking called!” they erupt, leaning in closer to him now, face hot and tears spilling.

Their voice shakes. They’ve argued, they’ve danced around the subject. They reminded Iwaizumi of how he left. But this is the first time they’ve said anything more about it, and the worst twist in their chest.

“You abandoned me,” they continue. “Once when you got on the plane and then again when you acted like I didn’t exist. I used to wait up all night for a phone call from you.”

Iwaizumi blinks. “I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me,” he admits, voice lower now. “I thought you hated me.”

They did hate him. They hated him and they loved him all at once. “I still hate you,” they say, and it’s half-true. “I hate you,” they choke out. It’s half a sob, and they slump back against the counter. “I hate you.”

Iwaizumi leans closer, placing his hands on counter on either side of them, caging them in. “I love you,” he says, plainly, like it’s a fact. And they shake their head, crossing their arms over their chest, trying to deny it. Iwaizumi lifts a hand and takes their chin between his thumb and his finger. He makes them look him in the eye. “I love you.”

And they feel so stuck. Because they want to push him away and kick him out and delete his number and never, ever give him the chance to leave them ever again. They never want to feel the way they felt when Iwaizumi disappeared from their life.

But they want so badly to be loved by him again, and to love him again. He’s offering it to them, leaning in closer to his forehead rests against theirs, and they’re not sure they have the self-discipline to deny him. “I love you,” he whispers again. “I don’t care if you hate me. I’ll always love you.”

It’s then that they can’t hold back the sobs any longer. It all just becomes too much. The drop the can of beer, still almost full, and it fizzes and spills all over the floor. Neither one of them seems to notice, as they lean forward, pressing their face into Iwaizumi’s neck as their cries rock through them. Iwaizumi is steady, like he always is, arms tight around their back, holding them up, like he always did.

And at least for now, that is enough for them.

an: omg this was kinda corny but also i kinda love it lmao. VERY DIFFERENT FROM WHAT I USUALLY POST HERE SO I AM NERVOUS !! if u made it this far pls tell me what u think <333 reblogs are appreicated!

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clubkira · 6 months

Text

DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ

oh future husband, better love me right!

premise. the nhk gives it’s viewers a peak into the love lives of the jnt’s lineup, interviewing the future wives of the jnt to crack the secret to a happy relationship ❤︎

content. haikyu!! jnt / f!reader. (atsumu miya, rintarou suna, wakatoshi ushijima & shoyo hinata). fluff. somewhat decent relationship advice. downbad fiancés. healthy relationships(!!). suggestive moments. petnames.

soundtrack. dear future husband : meghan trainor.

part two can be read here.

dear future husband m.list. // hq. masterlist.

ATSUMU MIYA.

“after every fight, just apologize.”

“Relationship advice?” You repeat, sitting across from the NHK interviewer, mic strapped to your shirt as a camera filmed your living room. She nods, smiling while holding a microphone of her own.

“Yes! Tell us, what is the secret to a healthy relationship?”

You tilt your head, “Well, I guess I have some advice to give.” Your fingers drum against the armrest of your couch as you sit in thought, contemplating on what to tell the reporter, “hmm..”

Atsumu sitting beside you laughs, his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder, “I have some advice I’d like to give as well.”

You turn to him with a grimace. “I don’t want any young viewers following whatever is about to come out of your mouth, ‘Tsumu.”

He looks at you offended; reeling his arm back to his side, shock spelled out all over his face. “Excuse me, I’m great at romance. I romanced you, didn’t I?”

“Unfortunately,” you jest, with Atsumu exclaiming in protest, “But this isn’t just about romancing someone, ‘Tsumu. They’re asking what makes a relationship a healthy one.”

“So?” He shrugs, “A healthy relationship is one that’s full of romance.”

“I apologize for him,” you playfully tell the interviewer, ignoring the look Atsumu gives you in response, “He’s not the best at this sorta stuff.”

She merely giggles, “No worries, the players are allowed to give their own opinions as well.” Atsumu puffs his chest out, “See, babe? She said I can talk too.”

“Yeah well, just make sure to cut out whatever he says in the final broadcast,” She lets out a snort at your jab, hiding the smile that creeps onto her face behind her microphone while Atsumu shoves your shoulder in despair.

“Awe, c’mon! I’m not that bad with relationship advice!” He pouts at you, looking like a kicked puppy when he does so, “What makes you think I’m so bad at this, do you actually want to marry me, babe?”

Your eyes soften at his saddened tone, feeling slightly guilty you link your fingers with his, eyes full of love when he smiles down at your intertwined hands.

“Of course I do, ‘Tsumu.”

The camera crew awes as you turn back to face the cameras, still holding Atsumu’s hand firmly in your own, running your thumb over the smooth cut diamond ring studded band he wears on his ring finger.

“The advice I have to give viewers is; Apologize when you are wrong,” you tell the interviewer, “No matter your pride, no amount will replace your relationship. It’s never worth sacrificing your loved one just for the sake of winning an argument.”

“Uh huh, you’re one to talk about that, babe,” Atsumu rolls his neck, “You never apologize first, it’s always me who has to for you to talk to me again.”

“What are you talking about?” You look at him confused, “I’m the one who initiates the apology conversations, you’re the stubborn one out of us.”

“Nuh-uh.”

You groan, “Exactly.”

Atsumu pulls his hand out of yours, placing it on your thigh instead before facing the cameras. “But, she is right. Do not ever choose a winning an argument over your partner. It ends badly.”

“You would know,” you snort, “You give me the longest silent treatments until I coax you out of it with kisses.”

“Can we cut that out of the broadcast, please?”

You purse your lips to hide the oncoming smile until Atsumu leans forward, a handsome grin on his face as he looks directly into the rolling cameras with a newfound confidence.

“But, y’know. I do always apologize in the end, ‘cause my girl’s never wrong.”

RINTAROU SUNA.

“make time for her.”

“You see this girl?” Suna jabs a thumb in your direction from across the kitchen, leaning against the marble island lazily as the camera team nods. “Yeah, she gets constipated if I don’t give her enough attention.”

Your head perks up immediately as you shoot him a halfhearted glare, “Do not.”

“See, she’s doing it right now.” He ignores, drinking from his glass of water before setting it down on the counter, ignoring the little gasp you let out at his actions.

Rolling your eyes, you smack his arm before sliding a coaster under his drink, “Don’t scratch the marble, Rinnie. I just bought this island.”

The camera team silently giggles at the short interactions between you two, with Suna sticking his tongue out at you and in response you give him a middle finger before he turns back to face them, “Can you believe her?”

Scoffing, you enter the camera frame beside him, “Don’t bring them into this, Rinnie.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m your fiancée.”

Suna opens his mouth to argue before shutting it promptly, “Good point.”

One of the crew members holds a sign from behind the cameras, indicating to get the interview back on topic. “Why would you ever ask her for relationship advice?” Suna chuckles, “I was the one who made the first move.”

“The interview is for the fiancée’s of the JNT, Mr. Suna,” the interviewer reminds him, “But the players are welcome to voice their own opinions as well.”

Suna stretches his arm behind his back with a yawn, a sliver of his abdomen peeking out from underneath his home shirt before disappearing quickly, “Well in that case, allow me to voice this opinion—”

You slap a hand over his mouth before he can begin, “Nope, didn’t you hear them? This is my interview, Rinnie.”

“Buhf dey shaid I can shpeak too, affhole." Suna glares from behind your hand, removing it from his mouth with a groan. “Did you even wash your hand? Tastes gross.”

“Why did you lick my hand?”

“We’ve done freakier things than that and that’s what you’re worried about?”

Your words get lodged in your throat, sputtering out hurriedly, “This is going on T.V, Rinnie!”

He looks to you with a smug smile, “Yeah, and I can’t wait to rewatch this interview and see your reaction again later.”

Your fists clench momentarily before taking a deep breath, relaxing yourself and facing the cameras with a smile. “Anyways, some relationship advice I’d give to anyone watching; make time for your spouse.”

Suna nods along to your words, “Mhm, I think that’s the most important thing in a relationship.”

“Shut up, Rinnie.”

“Ouch,” he fakes a stab through his heart, monotonous eyes but a playful grin on his lips. “I talk for two seconds and you tell your dear fiancé to shut up?”

You shake your head towards him jokingly, continuing to talk to the interviewer, “A healthy relationship means you spend time with your loved ones, and your spouse should be the most loved person in your life.”

The reporter nods, “I see, I see, what do you suggest to our viewers the best ways to spend quality time with their lover?”

“In bed.” Suna chimes in immediately, earning another smack on the shoulder from you. “What?” He looks at you with a knowing grin, “Oh, you— I didn’t mean like that, oh my god you’re sooo dirty minded.”

He chuckles, “I meant like cuddling, laying in bed together, watching movies. Y’know, wholesome things.”

“Nothing is wholesome with you,” you exasperate, speaking from personal experience. “But yes, those are great ways to spend times with your lover. They’re good times to bond with them, or just relax and unwind after a long day.”

“Yeah, after a gruelling day of practice, it’s nice to come home and lay in her arms,” Suna motions to you before leaning his head on your shoulder, his grin now replaced with a small but gentle smile. “She’s all I want to see after practice.”

“Wow,” you tease, leaning your head atop his, “and where did you learn to be so smooth, hm? Are you just playing it up for the cameras, Rinnie?”

Suna snickers, hands crossed over his chest relaxed, “I would never,” he says before mumbling close to your ear.

“I just, really like to spend time with you.”

WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA.

“treat her like a lady.”

“My fiancé is out right now at the gym,” you inform the NHK station crew, their camera men follow you inside your house for the opening shots of the broadcast. “Make yourselves comfortable while you wait.”

The interviewer settles himself on a seat at your dining table as you reach for the vase of flowers atop, moving into the kitchen to pour the old water out of their vase, careful to not spill any over your kitchen counter as you refill the container with fresh water from your tap.

Refreshing the water, you carefully place the flowers back into their vase before rearranging them neatly, coming back out of the kitchen to place them back on your table and adjusting them accordingly as the interviewer watches amazed.

“Those flowers are very lovely,” he notes softly, almost as if any louder of a volume would disturb the plants, “Did you fiancé happen to get them for you?”

You smile, “yes, he did,” recalling the first time he got you a bouquet, on your first date many years ago.

“‘Toshi knows I love flowers.”

The soft click of the lock to your house causes you to perk your head up in familiarity, the frame of your fiancé’s figure coming into view as you see him placing his shoes down beside your door before coming inside.

“Welcome home, dear,” you call out to him from the kitchen, one of the camera crew’s members break off to film your fiancé as he enters the home. He drops his gym bag to the floor beside your couch, removing his jacket and hanging it on your coatrack before passing through the halls of your shared home to get to you.

Ushijima shuffles his way into the kitchen, passing by the camera crew and approaching you from behind, hugging you as his hands are wrap around your stomach, head dropping into the crook of your shoulder.

You lean into his touch, his freshly showered hair smells of the shampoo the two of you use.

“Are you showing them the flowers I got you?” He asks, eying the pretty arrangement of flowers on the table. The cameras zoom in to take a closer shot at the flowers, noting the vibrancy of the colours and the lack of thorns adorning the stems.

You and the reporter nod, Ushijima lets a small smile settle on his face. “She told me they were her favourites,” he tells the reporter.

“Hm,” he hums before turning to you, microphone extending outwards. “is that your relationship advice for the viewers then? Giving your loved one gifts?”

You shake your head quickly, “Oh, no! No, that’s not my advice— Of course, do get your partner gifts if you know they’ll enjoy them.” Ushijima straightens up, hands snaking around your waist to stand beside you as the cameras pan out to record the both of you in the same shot.

“‘Toshi just really likes to get me little things,” you smile, reminicing on all the times your eyes barely glazed over something in a store front before he was scrambling inside the shop to buy it for you, despite your pleas.

“But gifts do not have to be expensive,” You reassure the viewers again, “just little trinkets that remind you of your partner will be enough.”

Ushijima nods before lifting your hand up to the camera, showing off the engagement ring with a large diamond displayed proudly atop it. “Yes, but I do like to splurge when it comes to her.”

You retract your hand quickly, warily eying your fiancé, “‘Toshi! Don’t make the viewers think they need to buy people’s happiness with expensive gifts!”

His head tilts unsurely, “My love, do you not like the ring I got you?”

“I-I do! When did I ever say I didn’t?”

His eyes crinkle slightly in concern, “Then why are you hiding our engagement ring from the viewers?”

“Because,” you sigh, “I don’t want young, inexperienced lovers to think they need something like a huge, flashy engagement ring to be loved by someone.”

“But you deserve the best,” he rebuffs, “There is nothing I wouldn’t buy for you if you asked.”

“‘Toshi.. this isn’t really helping our case…”

The reporter turns to Ushijima, “Even though this is a special for the JNT fiancées, the players are allowed to give their own insight.” He informs your soon-to-be husband, “Do you have anything else to add for our viewers?”

Ushijima thinks for a moment, silent in thought as you look to your fiancé, and the sight of his matching engagement ring twinkling under the bright studio lights filling your home catches your eye all too quickly.

“Do you have anything you want to say, ‘Toshi?” You nudge his shoulder slightly when he continues to remain quiet, an encouraging smile on your lips.

He nods, bringing the hand with your ring on it before giving the intricately cut diamond a kiss, his piercing eyes gazing deep into yours, causing your face to heat up fervently at his wolfish grin.

“Treat your partner the best that you can, like the lady she is and deserves to be treated as.”

SHOYO HINATA.

“don’t forget your anniversaries!”

Shoyo’s leg bounces feverishly as the reporter speaks to you casually, unable to contain his excitement at being asked to join you for this broadcasted interview special.

His grin is wide, beaming whenever you sneak small glances at him whenever the reporter looks down at their cue cards of start up questions to ease into the conversation, before the real topic is brought up.

“Do you have any relationship advice for our viewers?”

You’re about to speak until Shoyo interrupts you, quite literally flying out of his seat while brightly smiling as his hand grasps yours with a tight grip, “I do, I do!”

The reporter chortles, smiling at his tactics, “Thank you, Mr. Hinata. But this interview is specifically for your fiancée.” Shoyo’s face sullens lightly until he speaks again, “But you’re allowed to give your own thoughts when she’s done.”

Shoyo slumps back into his seat dejectedly as you rub his back comfortingly, “Sorry, Sho. But just let me speak first, okay?” His pout is replaced instantaneously at your words with the usual smile he holds when around you, “Alright, baby!”

You look towards the reporter, hand still clasped in Shoyo’s securely. “Here is my advice for a healthy relationship; Don’t forget your anniversaries.”

Your fiancé’s mouth hangs open in shock at your words, head whipping to face you with a hearty laugh, “That’s what I was going to say!”

The look of shock that spreads across your face amuses him, staring at you expectantly for a few moments before you too erupt into laughter, shoulders shaking in surprise as the two of you cling to each other for support, with Shoyo nearly falling off the couch with how hard he cackles.

He clings onto your shoulder to stop himself from tumbling, which in turn causes you to laugh harder as you try to pull him back up as Shoyo calls out for you to ‘save him’.

“Baby, I’m falling!” Shoyo shrieks while howling with laughter, “Grab my hand!”

“You’re already grabbing my hand, Sho!”

Cameras stationed around your living room pan to zoom in on Shoyo’s joyful face when he fools around with you, the grip he still holds on your hand as clear as day as you jokingly attempt to rescue his bumbling self.

The out of frame reporter looks to the two of you happily, the fact that you both seem so absorbed in each other and have forgotten about the interview portion of the broadcast is surprisingly heartwarming for both the crew and the viewers watching the broadcast.

Once the two of you manage to calm down, you shyly look back to the NHK crew with a timid smile.

“Sorry,” you apologize to your interviewer, coughing as you try to hold back another bout of laughter when you catch Shoyo smiling at you again, attempting to contain his giggles. “We got a little- uhm, carried away.”

“It’s no problem,” the reporter chuckles, “I can see the two of you are very much in love, so is that the advice you wish to tell our viewers on how your relationship with each other is so healthy?”

You and Shoyo nod simultaneously, “Yeah, don’t you ever forget your partner’s anniversaries!!” Shoyo sternly but playfully warns the viewers, “I’m serious, guys! Anniversaries are important!”

“What anniversaries should our viewers be aware of when it comes to their lovers?”

This time you speak up, “Well, the major and most well known ones of course,” you begin, listing off the ones you can recall at the moment.

“For example; first month together, first year spent as a couple, birthdays could also count I suppose—”

“Did you know I proposed to her on our fifth anniversary?” Shoyo interrupts excitedly, the same happy and bright smile on his face shining when he proudly pulls up his hand to show off the ring on his finger, “I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot to put the ring on her finger after she accepted!”

Recalling that memory brings warmth to your cheeks, “Yeah, he literally forgot about the ring in the box until I asked him about it later.”

“But in any case,” you circle back to original topic at hand, noticing the way Shoyo’s smile dampens a little when you switch back so quickly as you shoot him an apologetic smile, you don’t want to waste the reporter’s and NHK crew’s time any longer.

“Don’t forget your anniversaries, people! They’re a big deal for a ton of lovers!”

“Th-that’s right!” Shoyo piggybacks off your response, “And if you do forget, you better apologize a lot!”

The reporter nods, turning their attention to your fiancé. “And do you have any final thoughts for our viewers on how you maintain a healthy relationship with your fiancée, Mr. Hinata?”

Shoyo smiles deviously at the open ended question he’s been dying to answer this whole time; his hand creeping teasingly up your thigh to the small of your back as he leans in real close to you with a knowing wink, the flushed expression displayed on your face at his actions encourages him even more to continue.

His eyes glint with amusement, the mischievous grin on his lips is firm even in front of several strangers and cameras rolling in real time, footage of his behaviour being broadcasted to the entirety of Japan this very second.

And without shame or guilt, Shoyo smirks.

“Make your anniversary nights real special for her, trust me on that one.”

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

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emmyrosee · 22 days

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His phone rings once, and Kiyoomi smirks down at it.

You’re calling him, of course you are, why would you not be, and he sighs and excused himself before slipping out to the front of the building and answering the phone.

“This better be good.”

“Im crawling in your walls.”

He lets out a laugh and scrubs his face with his hand, “you miss me that much? I’ve only been gone for a few hours.” You whine on your end of the line, and he chews the tip of his thumb to stop himself from laughing.

“Kiyoomi,” you whine. “I didn’t give you enough kisses this morning. I’m feeling deprived.”

He cocks a brow, “babe, you gave me a thousand kisses before I left-“

“No, I gave you forty seven. I should’ve given you forty eight. Or a thousand.”

This, has him laughing. Laughing because never in a trillion years would he expect to let such ferality be allowed. What would 16 year old Kiyoomi think if he heard some person say “I’m in your walls because I didn’t kiss you enough”?

He wouldn’t believe him. He wouldn’t think someone would care enough about him to go through such lengths to be part of his life, a part of him, and he poked his tongue in his cheek and shakes his head.

“You can kiss me more when I get home.”

“I don’t want to wait that long.”

“I’ll kiss you back?”

This, has you stopping, and he raises his brows as he waits for a response. “You promise?”

“Of course I do,” he snorts. “When have I never not wanted to kiss you?”

“True.” You go quiet again, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby. I’ll be home soon.”

“…okay,” you finally sigh. “I’m gonna eat your drywall.”

He snorts again, “go for it.”

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lumiinix · 1 year

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Whenever he went to the store, ladies will stop on their tracks and look at him with heart on their eyes, they would gossip to eachother about how there’s this handsome man who always came into this store, some even build enough courage to went up to him and strike up a conversation, only to be severely disappointed when they saw the wedding band on his ring finger. It gets awkward for them when they see him again, this time with you by his side, your husband’s hand around your waist and what’s more? A 5 year old child sitting on his shoulder. Yeah, they’re too late, he’s off the market now.

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noosayog · 1 year

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[baby fever] ft. ushijima wakatoshi

wc: 400

iwaizumi | atsumu | osamu | sakusa | kageyama

You’re standing outside the gym where the Olympics team is practicing when you see Iwaizumi walk by, hand in hand with a clumsily waddling toddler. Iwaizumi nods at you and the toddler waves a chubby arm at you. You giggle and wave back.

“Did you want to wait inside?” Iwaizumi asks.

You’re about to decline when the toddler tugs on your fingers.

“Come in?” he asks.

You agree, letting him lead you by his grip around your ring finger and pinky. Inside the gym, Iwaizumi asks you to watch his son as he finishes up with the team. The child quickly settles into your lap, his babbling trailing off as he dozes away. You’re fiddling with a loose thread in his little sweater when Wakatoshi comes up behind you, freshly showered. He greets you with a brief kiss on the head and sits quietly next to you when he sees the sleeping kid in your arms.

“Who’s this?”

“Iwaizumi’s son,” you respond distractedly.

Ushijima stares intently at you as you gently rock the small child in your arms. He continues to watch in silence as you double-knot his shoelaces, straighten the sleeves on his sweater, and swat away the drool at the corner of his open mouth. He notices when you laugh quietly at his little snores.

His eyes are still on you when you finally look up at him.

“What,” you laugh. “What are you looking at?”

Before he can answer, Iwaizumi comes to relieve you of childcare duties. He thanks you and you assure him that his son was wonderful.

“You’re in a good mood,” Ushijima states.

You only smile at him, swinging your clasped hands in wide arcs and skipping a bit.

Later that night, with your back nestled into his broad chest, he rubs a warm, large palm on your tummy. The gesture is innocent and gentle, but the circles get slowly wider.

“You like kids, huh?” As he talks, the palm slides up to cup your breasts.

“Is that what this is about?”

“What do you think,” he asks, hands not stopping. “About having kids.”

You push him onto his back and roll on top of his chest, eye to eye with him. He gazes at you lovingly and you’ll never get tired of it.

“I want a girl,” you say. “I really want to see your big muscly arms holding a pink blanket with our little daughter in it.”

He gives you a confused look, “if that’s what you want.”

He flips the two of you over, hands back on your body.

“What are you doing!” you laugh.

“Starting now,” he says simply, as his hands continue their trail down your body.

#noos writes #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagines #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq imagines #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi fluff #ushijima fluff #ushijima wakatoshi x you #ushijima x you

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tonycries · 27 days

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"Pull On It. Harder."

Synopsis. He liked to wear that little black hair tie everywhere. Why? Oh, it just reminds him of the way you tie his hair into a pretty lil’ ponytail - all while he's tonguefúcking you to insanity.

Pairings. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cunnilingus, rough oral (female receiving), unprotected, overstim, slightly long haired! boys, they’re just a bit mean here, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 1.2k

A/N. I love long haired men and no one can do anything ab it.

He’s never seen without that little black hair tie around his wrist.

He likes to take it with him, thumbing that red imprint on his skin whenever he misses you. It makes him think of how he’d run his hands through your hair at night. Or how you’d intertwine your fingers with his when out on dates.

And, of course, how you’d gather his locks and tie it into a pretty little ponytail while he tonguefucks you into insanity.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Barely even touched you and already so wet f’me.”

Nose-deep in your pussy, his bangs partially cover his heavenly view of you - spread underneath him, thighs trembling and cunt dripping all over his freshly cleaned bed sheets. Good, he thinks deliriously, preferring your scent to the overly artificial softener anyway.

He isn’t too worried, though, knowing you’ll work your magic with his hair soon enough. Soon.

“Soon” happens to be when he’s pooling your sweet juices on his lips. Relentless tongue dipping in and out of your quivering hole at a maddening pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Oh, fuck, baby- Hngh- faster, fucking me on your tongue s’good.” Hips bucking up into his hot mouth for more more more. Making out heatedly with your pussy with the urgency of a madman. Stray strands sticking to his forehead, he looks up at you through half-lidded, absolutely feral eyes that devour you almost as much as the mouth on your cunt - soon.

Tongue bullying past your swollen folds, crooking just right to fuck you on it the way he needed to with his throbbing cock. “Yeah, just like that.” you moan deliriously.

His hair tie digs into his skin, as well as yours, as he forces your thighs on his shoulders, reaching to draw tight, little circles on your needy clit. Methodical, and purposeful.

He knew you were close when you reached down to urgently cup his head, bunching those silky locks in two trembling hands. Ever the gentleman - his hand expertly leaves its bruising grip spreading your thighs so shamefully open. Letting you all but rip off the hair tie off it.

Shaky fingers running through his locks, his breath hitches so deliciously as you hastily secure his soft strands into a small, loose ponytail. Movements urgent and as jerky as the snap of that small hair tie.

Ah, there he was - you could cum just from seeing the absolutely feral look on his face. It should be a crime for those beautiful features to be covered by anything other than your dripping cunt.

A predatory grin tugs at his lips against your swollen ones as you finish tying the small band. Ah, now he can really get into it. Your back arches, using the ponytail as leverage to demand more. Need more as he makes out with your pussy with newfound vigor.

Nails digging into his scalp, searing with your grip. You know he doesn’t mind - in fact, he even leans into your touch with a guttural groan, swallowing hard as he drives his tongue deeper into you.

It’s messy - both the ponytail and the way he speeds up maddeningly, your slick smearing across his pretty face, trailing down to the sheets below. Tongue continuing its relentless abuse - over and over and-

At a merciless rhythm that has the bed creaking and you whining in pleasure - the neighbors were sure to file another noise complaint. Annoying old fuckers, should give them a real show.

His breaths are almost as ragged as yours now - because fuck oxygen, he wanted to see his pretty girl fall apart on his tongue. A munch - as you liked to often joke - with no care in the world for anything other than making you cum hard enough to see stars.

“Fuck, baby- m’gonna- m’gonna hngh-”

And not only do you see stars, you probably see the pearly gates of heaven as you cum on his mouth. Convulsing and hips rutting up to ride out your high on his pretty face. Eyes dazed, lips swollen and absolutely pussy-drunk.

That sinful glint in his eyes stays as he pulls away, an obscene trail of saliva and your slick connecting your lips to his chin. Cheeks flushed so deceivingly innocently, strands of silky hair falling out of that disheveled ponytail. A true masterpiece.

He watched you intently, drinking in every dip and curve. Breathtaking, absolutely breathtaking.

But the games are over now.

“Spread them f’me, sweetheart.”

Looming over you, eyes burning with raw desire. Cock throbbing and leaking delicate beads of precum as he positions himself, furiously flushed tip nudging your sloppy hold. He pumps himself. Once. Twice. Being merciful enough to give you a second of respite.

Without warning, he surges forward. Bullying his thick cock into your snug cunt in one, swift thrust. Not stopping till he’s all the way. His lips crush against yours, stifling your cry of pain and pleasure at finally getting what he’s been teasing you with for so long.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your dripping cunt. Nails raking down his sculpted back as he starts up a feral, unforgiving pace. Each ram of his cock into your cunt erratic, hitting your cervix and pulsing against that one spot deliberately. Again. And again. Like a madman possessed.

“Baby- Hngh-” you whine sinfully, hips bucking wildly against to meet his almost-animalistic cadence, reaching out a shaky arm towards him. He knows what that means. How could he not?

Holding your hungry gaze as he leans down, sweaty forehead meeting yours. One hand cradles your face, while the other hooks a finger underneath that godforsaken hair tie and pulls. Letting the ponytail - that at this point could barely even be called one - fall apart, just as you were underneath him.

Eyes glassy and dazed, soft little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. The only thing behind those pretty eyes being him and the big cock stuffing you full. So close to cumming.

Bangs partially covering the sinful view that was you - but right now, he didn’t care. Not when you’re snaking a hand up to his locks and pulling. Hard.

“Yeah, just like that. Pull on it. Harder.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat as he lets you continue your little ministrations, tugging on his hair especially hard when he purposefully misses that little spot he knew drove you wild. Over and over.

Now, he doesn’t want to sound like a masochist - his friends would probably laugh their asses off at that - it’s just it hurts so good when it’s you.

Which is why, two strong hands rest above your head, fingers lacing, pushing you down down down impossibly deeper onto his throbbing cock. You keen in response, “Ah! Hngh- oh, baby jus’ like that. M’gonna cum.”

Ha, as if he’d be that nice.

Pulling out in one, fluid motion, he relishes in your disappointed whine at the sudden disappointment. Taking the opportunity to gather your hair in his fists, fingers deftly forming a makeshift ponytail with a snap! of that little hair tie.

Leaning down to whisper in your ear, voice gravelly and hot against your ear. “Not yet. Suck on my cock without this ponytail falling apart, sweetheart. Then we’ll see about that orgasm, hm?”

Because you love to see his face.

And, of course, he loves to see yours.

- GETO, CHOSO, GOJO, Kuroo, KENMA, Sakusa, EREN, Jean

A/N. I’m ngl this is very much self-indulgent pls.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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shoyoist · 5 months

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── 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 : hinata shoyo.

content: fem!reader. public sεx in the back booth of a cafe. dirty thoughts, teasing, fingering, a little overstimulation, shoyo is a liiittle mean but he's just so eager to have you!! mentioned pussy eating at the end.

— . ｡˚ ♡ you just can't wait to have shoyo's fingers in you. and neither can he.

one of the first things you notice about hinata when you meet up with him after his years away in brazil, is that his hands are big.

he'd already been growing taller and filling out when he left — but that was nearly three years ago, and seeing him for the first time after so long felt like a dream — because despite looking the same, he also looked just that different. it wasn't just his hands, really — he was big.

his neck was thicker, the expanse between his shoulder and neck offering much more space for your arms than it used to, as you wrapped them around his neck in a hug. his arms, his chest, his stomach, as they press against yours in the embrace, they feel bigger, more muscular than you remembered.

but what you notice the most, what would be a subtle change compared to everything else — is that his hands are so big. maybe because you hadn't seen his hands properly in any of the pictures he'd sent you, but it was the most surprising change about him.

his fingers that just used to be long and lithe, are now thicker — knuckles tough and edges calloused, the backs of them rosy and tanned and the palms hard and smooth, pink at the rounder points.

and as he holds your hands in his, gives you a smile that pours love and longing and happiness and tender adoration into you as he tells you, “hi, baby. i missed you.” — all you can think about is that you want your pussy stuffed with those fingers of his.

and eventually — because he is after all, your beloved shoyo that would do anything for you — you tell him.

hand in hand, walking the distance from your place to the café you used to frequent together, you tell him that his hands are so nice.

his fingers are so thick (“look! see how big they are compared to mine?”) and then while you're talking to each other over cups of coffee, you finally tell him — albeit slyly and mostly as a tease, you admit that you want his fingers in your cunt.

what you don't expect is for him to immediately oblige.

you're sitting together at the very last booth of the small, cozy little cafe, away from all the windows and concealed from clear view — and you'd thought it'd be cute to fluster him with a dirty little comment, and get him hooked for when you both get home.

but when you tell him, “they'd feel so nice curling deep into my pussy, don't you think?” hinata stares at you for only a few seconds — before he has you pressed against the back of the booth, one legged hooked over his knees and the other dangling over the edge of the seat as he forces your legs open.

“mhm,” he giggles at your wide eyed, stunned expression, wrapping a muscled arm around you and adjusting your position so effortlessly, as his other hand slides past the waistband of your skirt to palm at your clothed cunt. “let's see how it feels, then. oh — pretty pussy's wet already, huh? missed me much?”

you're too dazed by the contact and the delicious feel of his touch on your clit to form words and tell him yes, yes yes you missed him so fucking much, more than he knows — but you think you missed him more than even you know.

his eyes are brighter than you remember as well, you see as you blink up to meet his gaze—

his body language, his confidence, it's so different compared to how he was before.

you'd only gotten together in your third year of highschool, and really you'd only fucked once before he left for brazil — but you'd loved him long enough to know.

this isn't the same hinata that you kissed good-bye at that train station years ago.

correction: he is the same — but he's also more.

you stare, stars in your eyes — and he gives you a handsome, rogueish grin as he slips two digits under your panties and into the slick mess of your hole, like he knows every single thing he's doing to you right now.

to your body, to your mind, to your soul.

it's overwhelming enough, to have the love of your life return home to you after more than two years of being so, so far away from you.

overwhelming enough to see that he has changed so very much, to see that suddenly the sunny, sweet boy you'd fallen in love with has become a fire, a hot searing flame that's ready to sweep you off your feet and singe you, burn you with his kisses and his touch.

but right now, you can't even think clearly about it all — because fuck, fuck, fuck, he's sliding his fingers into you, and it feels even better than you thought it would.

“sh—shoyo,” you whimper, cheek pressed to his chest as he shields your body with his, just in case. “wait, wait — didn't mean right now, i—”

“hush,” he hums into your ear, thumb gliding up to find your clit, and when he presses into the sensitive bud, you can only obey and hush — pressing your lips shut tight to prevent the gasp of pleasure that builds in your throat from getting away.

the café had been pretty quiet and peaceful when you'd both walked inside, and even as you ordered from the counter and brought your trays to the back booth — but suddenly, you're so afraid that people might come and see. afraid that a waiter might come over and see.

“sho—” you try, but he shushes you again, and you feel so hot, it's all so sudden you can't think.

“couldn't wait, sunshine, 'm sorry.” he mumbles into your hair, pulling you even closer, and you feel a little cramped as he tugs your legs even further apart, fingers sliding knuckle-deep into you. “was thinking things the whole time, you're so gorgeous now, can't wait when you're so hot.”

“i—” you whimper again, grabbing his shirt and curling it in your fist. “me too, shoyo, me too.” there's an impatience in the both of you that was hardly satiable when kept apart from eachother, but now, with the two of you like this, there's no way to keep it at bay.

the stretch of his fingers in your cunt is impossible. so much compared to your own fingers, so hot and hungry compared to the toys you use (ones he'd bought and sent home to you during his time in brazil).

he fucks his digits into you like he's been dying to do this to you, like he's desperate to hear those pretty sounds you make in his ear again, like he's been thirsting to make you cum like this forever.

you're going to hit your orgasm so quick, you can already feel it.

you're going to cum slumped in the back booth of this little café, that you'd visited so long ago on your first date with hinata. this little café where you'd first kissed him. this little café where you'd had a valentine's day brunch with him, just two months before he left.

“shoyo,” you can't help the moan that slips out, pussy only clenching around harder his digits when you see the way his eyes cloud with lust upon hearing your voice. “shoyo, shoyo — gonna cum.”

you hope nobody hears you — and you hope that if they did, they'll stay the fuck away and mind their own business, and let hinata take care of you.

you need it. he's so warm, so hot, and he's fucking you so good with just his fingers — thumb rolling your clit just fucking right while he curls his fingers into your velvet walls, giggling under his breath when your pussy squelches messily each time.

“that's right, baby,” he coos, kissing your hair. “cum for me. nice and hard, mkay? else we might hafta try again.”

his voice cracks so well at just the right moment as he says it — and you don't know if it's the zap of need that courses through you at the sound of his voice breaking, or if it's just the bliss he's giving you with his fingers that makes you cum instantly, but you do.

your pussy wraps around his fingers so tight — your own hand flying up to clamp over your mouth and muffle your cry, as your body finally unfreezes and you crash into your high.

knees knocking together and squeezing hinata's arm between your legs, you fall lax against the leather seating of the booth — cushioned by his body because he still has his other arm secured around you — and you cum. “fuck, shoyo.”

“that's good,” hinata encourages, his whisper hot in the shell of your ear. “fuck, so messy. so messy, baby, how do we clean you up?”

you can't help it — and he's making it worse, curling his fingers in, knuckles digging into your walls as he tries to go even deeper, never relieving the pressure he's out on your clit, god— “shoyo, fuck, fuck.” you’re afraid you might shatter into a million pieces right there on the damn seat. you haven’t had someone else touch you in a long time, and getting an orgasm ripped from you like this is almost too much. “sho—shoyo, please.”

“please, what?” he giggles, still unrelenting, like he’s missed having you like this, like he really can’t be a good boy and wait until you get back home before he eats you up and makes you his girl all over again, for the first time in years.

“not here,” you say breathlessly, gulping down the cry of pleasure that springs up your throat when he lets go of your clit for a moment, only to flick his thumb at the ravenous bud again. “not here, please. i can’t—”

“can’t what?” he asks, almost impatient. he bites at your ear, and you feel so fucking hot, so dizzy with pleasure, but you can’t. not in the back booth of a god damn café, where you could just be caught with MSbY’s newest outside hitter fitting his fingers into your starving little cunt.

you grab his wrist and tug, giving him the most serious look you can with all the stars in your eyes. “can’t be like this, shoyo. not here. please? wanna go home. want you in me. at home.”

his lips pull downwards into a disappointed pout, but he only presses his body closer to you, hot and heavy, his weight so new on you. “you promise t’ let me fuck you like this in your bed then?”

the fact that he can make you blush harder with a few words even as he’s got your pussy full of his fingers is astounding, really. but you feel your face heat up as you nod, telling him you promise. you need it more than him. you need him so, so fucking bad.

with a delighted laugh, shoyo pulls away, almost too quickly and you’re forced to stifle the needy whine you want to let out because you know he’ll be on you again in no time if you act like that. he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking on your slick, eyes dulling with lust as he gets a taste of you. “let’s go, then. we can have this date later.”

“wh—what about our food?” you can’t even ask before he’s getting up and pulling you to your feet. he gives you a quick kiss, and your eyes widen when you taste yourself on him. god, it’s almost embarrassing.

“i’ll pay for it now, we’ll tell them we’re coming back in a bit.” he grins at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you up against him. “i can think of something else i’d like to eat right now.”

by the glint in his eyes and the lingering taste in your mouth, you know exactly what he means the instant he says it. and you can’t help but blush again. god, he’s such a fucking charmer. “mm, alright. let’s go then.”

“that’s my girl.”

#₊˚ପ⊹ REKHA™.#₊˚ପ⊹ NYCHTA.#hinata smut #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo smut #hinata x reader #haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hq smut #haikyuu!! smut #hinata headcanons #hinata drabbles #hinata shouyou smut #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #hq x you #haikyuu x you #hinata x you

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satorisoup · 2 months

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ᰔ CANDY GRAMS ft. rintaro suna

ʚ CW : secret admirer. manager! reader.

ʚ hq valentine’s series mlist ಇ

every year on valentine’s day, your schools student body sets up a booth for candy grams. $2 to send a cute little message to your loved one with little lollipops and candied hearts. the line would stretch all the way down the hall with students eager to buy one, the end of the line grumbling at their time wasted when they heard the shout of “sold out!”. it was a huge tradition that the students never failed to miss, as it would always cause an uproar of excitement along with the funds being donated to whatever cause.

it’s your second year at inarizaki highschool, and you were luckily privileged enough to become the manager of the volleyball club during the second half of your first year, being a new student, despite the insane amount of girls who had applied for the spot. you had made it extremely clear that no, you were not interested in the twins, no, this wasn’t a plan to get one them to fall in love with you, and no, you weren’t a secret spy for a fangirl instagram account trying to gather information. all things accounted for, you were accepted into the position.

now as a second year, you had kept your word on not falling for the infamous volleyball twins who in reality were just dumb teenage boys that talked your ear off with their constant nagging and immature jokes. however, the one who had caught your eye was the middle blocker with the #10 jersey, rintaro suna. they never said you couldn’t have a little crush on him, right? and even despite having quite the interest in him, you would never act on it, as you seemed to be good friends with him along with the twins, not daring to ruin the friendship or break the trust with the club.

suna was a nice person to be around, his sense of humor was infectious and he was a good, more tame break from the rambunctious person known as atsumu miya, even though they did tend to occasionally get into mischief when together. he was blunt in the ways he showed that he cared, and you recall the moment you realized you had feelings for him when you had accompanied him at the store to get a snack before practice. he had asked you if you wanted anything, and you had told him you didn’t have any money with you.

“i didn’t ask if you had money. i asked what you wanted.”

it left you blushing for the rest of the day, walking out of the shop with a cookie in hand and hearing “why didn’t ya pay fer me?!” fall out of atsumu’s mouth in complaint. you knew in your heart you definitely couldn’t deny it now, you had fallen.

the date marked february 14th, valentine’s day, and just like last year, the halls were bustling in delirium as the line stretched from one end of the courtyard to the other. you slung your bag over your shoulder and continued to walk to your designated class, overhearing the cheers of the people who finally made it to the front of the string of students. making your way to class and taking your seat, you prepare to take on the day as if it were any other.

eventually, the period before lunch had rolled around, and the person passing candy grams from each class had reached your door. you could feel the anticipation of your peers as the student began dropping each one off to certain desks. 1 here, 3 there, 5, wow that’s quite a few.

after most of the class had received their special gifts, whispering the notes their partners had left for them to one another, you had expected the deliverer to make their leave and be on with it.

your assumptions hadn’t been correct, when you see that they had made their way to your desk.

“10 candy grams for miss l/n, here you go!”

wait what?

you caught a few quiet gasps and small whispers from some of your classmates as your desk had been filled with a whopping number of 10 candy grams. even you had wanted to gasp yourself, but you really did not want this attention on you.

after everyone had quieted down a little more, you took the gracious opportunity to check the pink slips of paper on each packet of treats.

“to: y/n.”

again, you checked another slip. then another, and another for good measure. to your upmost confusion, every single slip you had was completely nameless. before you could comprehend exactly what was going on with these mysterious sweets, class was being dismissed for lunch.

“buying candy grams for yerself? that’s pretty depressin’.” atsumu bellowed at you when you had walked up to your friends, arms almost overflowing with your gifts.

“im not that cheap, you idiot…there’s 10 here, and ALL with no name.” you scoffed back at him.

“maybe it’s yer stalker.” osamu had countered, eyeing the bags.

“oh yeah, how lovely that would be. quit trying to scare me, osamu.” you deadpanned. “where’s suna?”

“dunno. so, ya gonna share that candy or what?”

“really miya? you’re both holding an entire grocery bag of them. i’ll see you guys at practice.” you walked off, still pondering on the thought of who it could be.

you still hadn’t managed to find suna within the midst of this entire situation, wanting to get his input. despite the so called “thrill” of having a secret admirer, you didn’t really seem to care. you wanted suna, and you wanted it to be him who was sending you stupid pieces of candy and dumb notes. that however, is a wish that could never be granted no matter how bad you yearned for it.

it’s the last half of the day by now, most classes having been visited by the deliverer, disregarding a few. mostly extra candy grams were being passed to the people who didn’t receive them before lunchtime. you practically ignored the lesson your teacher was explaining, too caught up in your thoughts to listen. 10 candy grams, no name, suna has practically disappeared. when class had been dismissed, you passed by your locker in hopes of putting the treats in there for later, but when you opened the latch, you had yet another surprise waiting for you.

10 more packets of candy dribbled out of your locker, a couple landing by your feet as if to mock you. you scamper to pick them up with a huff, and when you start to shove them in with the rest in your locker, miserably failing to fit them all inside, you come to an immediate realization.

atsumu is the only person who unfortunately knows your locker combination, back when you had held his lost textbook for him until he could get it back.

it dawned on you in an instant, of course, this was atsumu’s idea of humour, a perfect valentine’s day prank.

you roll your eyes at the idea of the twins antics, but also began to feel a tinge of sadness when you came to your conclusion, a hint of hope in the back of your mind that maybe, it was the one your heart had longed for who was up to this, but you’re quick to shut it down. with an upset slam of your locker, you head to the gym.

feet that slowly skid onto the concrete stairs was all that could be heard, and your shoes squeek against the vinyl flooring of the inarizaki gym when you enter. as you prepare to tell off atsumu, a voice interrupts you.

“what’s up with you?”

it was suna, his head cocked to the side with a slight furrow in his brow.

“im trying to find atsumu, he’s really done it this time…”

“and what did he do?”

“he thought it would be a funny idea to prank me! on valentine’s day of all days! sending a mountain of candy grams that won’t even fit in my locker…there wasn’t even a name on them. and it made me think…” you interrupt yourself before you accidentally say too much, “it’s just dumb yknow?” you huff.

“i figured you would think something dumb like that.”

“… huh?”

suna starts to dig into his bag, hand reaching in and then back out. one of his arms extended out to you, holding one of the same cellophane bags that had been taunting you all day.

this one held a cookie, the same kind as that day back at the store, and when you open the note, you can feel yourself grow lighter.

“to: y/n.

you’re kind of a dunse.”

and this time, there’s an indicator of the sender on the slip of paper, in the same handwriting as all of the others.

“R. S.”

you look to suna with widened eyes and a growing blush to your cheeks, your mouth slightly ajar when you ask him,

“…it was you?”

suna softly smirks at you, his hidden facade of mischievousness breaking as he replies,

“yeah, you should really think before you trust a miya with your locker combo.”

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tvhsleb3ww · 2 months

Text

SKINCARE ROUTINE - MIYA ATSUMU

swearing, flirting, pda, husband! tsumu, pure fluff honestly

"ouch! yer bein' too rough on me!"

atsumu groaned in pure agony as you pulled the blackhead remover on his nose. you scoffed before rolling your eyes at him.

"i'm being gentle! you're the one who's being dramatic here"

his lips curl into a pout as his hand that rested on your waist squeezed your flesh. his hair is combed to the back with a fox headband and his face is all glossy from the skincare products.

"this dramatic man yer sayin' is yer hubby. spare some love for me"

he huffs as he leans down so that you can apply the clay mask on his face. as stubborn as he is, he'd still listen and oblige to you. you're the only one he'll listen to aside his ma. never osamu though.

it was a Friday night and it was time for your weekly skincare routine where you do your usual skincare but just add a little more steps such as exfoliating and clay masks! and what better way to spend it if it wasn't with your husband?

atsumu had just returned from multiple oversea games due to the volleyball season. he's finally taking a break and spending all his holiday time with his lovely wife that can actually be real mean to him sometimes.

"there you go. now, we just let it rest for 20 minutes"

his pout grows at your words. what the hell is he supposed to do for 20 minutes with a mask on his face? although, he must admit that the skincare is lovely and rejuvenating. especially when you apply it to him. he loves to feel your soft hands caressing him.

"hmm, i wanna feel your soft hands on me, baby"

he whispered as he leaned down to press a brief kiss on your lips. his hand moving to the side of your face so he can kiss you. you happily smile against his lips before pushing him away gently.

"your lip scrub is still intact, tsum"

he scoffs and takes your hand that was on his chest to his shoulder.

"fuck some lip scrub. yer lips are my lip scrub"

you laughed as he leaned in again to press his lips against yours. you happily kissed him back and after some time, you pulled away to catch your breath.

both of you stayed there just smiling and enjoying each other's presence. his hands squeeze your waist as he pressed a kiss on the corner of your lips. you snickered as you feel his lips all over your face.

"ya know a missed you like hell, right?"

he asked in a teasing manner as he pokes your waist, making you jolt because it tickles. you playfully smacked his shoulder, making him laugh.

"i missed you too, tsum. i'm just happy you're doing skincare with me"

"ya crazy? i'd ditch disneyland for ya!"

he exclaims and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, making you tickle. you giggled as your arm wrap around his neck.

"tsum stop it! your clay mask hasn't dried yet!"

he laughs as he place wet kisses on your neck and exposed shoulder due to your loose shirt (his shirt). he makes overexaggerated kissing noises just to annoy you. you laugh and playfully smacked his back.

"you're so annoying, tsum!"

he smirks at that before continuing to press kisses on your collarbone.

"yknow i got an idea on how we should spend the night"

"shoot"

"oh baby, ya know what it is"

he says with a playful wink.

#atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #msby atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #hq atsumu #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #atsumu fluff

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haikyu-mp4 · 10 hours

Text

Media presence, part 3

word count; 1526 – gn!reader, final part of the mini series

go read part 1 and part 2 first for the best experience

You were tapping your foot under the desk like a bunny, lips pursed as you tried to choose who to talk to first. Your eyes settled on Hinata. “Sweetie,” you started, and he nodded eagerly as if he awaited praise. “You don’t have to do everything Atsumu and Bokuto do.”

Hinata visibly deflated, but puffed out his chest to put on a brave front. “Yes, boss,” he said, and it brought forth a small smile because you did like it when they called you that.

“Imagine how much you could have earned if Calvin Klein was the one asking you to do it. Now it’s just out there for everyone.” you kept saying, visibly frustrated. Once again, Sakusa was thankful that you couldn’t see the smile behind his mask as he watched you from the side.

You turned your attention to Bokuto and Atsumu, who were so perfectly placed in the middle of the four, both wearing very guilty smiles.

“It’s not about posting thirst traps, obviously hot guys draw attention,” you said and just missed the way Sakusa’s nose scrunched. You gritted your teeth, breathing through them as you stared at the angry message from one of your bosses that was open on your computer screen. “It’s the fact that Black Jackals has taken in four younger players and three of them are doing a flexing competition on social media like they’re 17 years old,” you said, definitely rambling at this point.

Did I forget to explain what happened? If it’s not obvious already, all three of your problem children posted shirtless thirst traps on their stories last weekend and hashtagged it with HottestMSBYJackal, and then Atsumu posted another one with a poll on it so people could vote between the three. While they gained a lot of younger followers from the stunt, your bosses were not happy as older fans of the team found them to be way too vain and busy with their bodies, and not focused enough on the sport or whatever. What you felt about it was irrelevant. Caring about what everyone else thought about them was your job.

Bokuto pouted and nodded, not understanding what he did wrong but still not liking your tone. “Sorry, boss.”

“I’m letting you off with a warning, just please think twice before posting stuff. Be normal,” you begged them, shooing your hand as a hint for them to wrap up the meeting.

Atsumu must have put some extra audacity in his smoothie this morning because he seemed to let the whole thing fall off his shoulders when you said they just got a warning. “I need to ask you something first, it’s important.”

“Let’s just go,” Sakusa said. He was trying to herd them outside without touching them, which always proved equally difficult. Perhaps he had an inkling about his teammate’s question.

“Which one would you vote for?” Atsumu asked, a toothy grin growing on his face that usually did great for advertisement. You sighed. They probably expected you not to answer.

“Sakusa,” you said, which made all three start yelling for different reasons. He was your favourite today after not participating, knowing that if he tried to stop them it wouldn’t have worked anyway. You covered your ears, regretting answering immediately.

“Quiet down, this isn’t a playground! Let’s go.” Sakusa commanded, this time with a sternness that made the others kick into gear.

“Keep your shirts on, thank you.” They were all on their way out, Bokuto and Atsumu hanging with their heads like wounded puppies who startled once you spoke again. “Not you, Sakusa.”

“Not keep my shirt on, or?” he asked, that Atsumu-coded smirk ringing from his voice.

“Don’t test me, sit back down,” you said, and he shrugged before following your orders. The other jackals had turned around and were looking between you two curiously until Sakusa closed the door in their faces. He sat down and excused them for being so loud, which you brushed off.

The bosses had instructed you to scold all of them, even though you insisted Sakusa was not part of it. Those old men only saw how everyone referred to the MSBY four online.

Honestly, you had no idea why you asked him to stay, so you had to pull something out of your ass real quick. Your mind was racing with all the things you had to do because even though this wasn’t the biggest scandal, it still came on top of everything you usually did. So instead of lying, you rested your head in your hands for a second. “I’m not sure why I asked you to come back inside.” It wasn’t some grand confession, but just that made it feel like a tiny butterfly was fluttering its wings in Sakusa’s belly. He was so pleased that he wasn’t sure what to say, choosing instead to scoot his chair closer to the desk and wait for you to unbury your face again. You eventually did, resting your chin on your hand instead. “Did you think about my suggestion yet?”

“Yes.”

You smiled, nodding your head as he once again gave you one-word answers. Feeling like there was too little air in the room now, you went to open the window. That might soothe your headache. “Once again, the quality of your answers rock my world,” you said sarcastically.

Sakusa hesitated for a moment before speaking up again. “You do a great job,” he said just as you sat back down. For what felt like the first time that day, you really let your eyes settle on him. His hair was a little extra nice that day, in your opinion. You liked it when it was more messy, not picture perfect. Behind the hair, you could still see how his eyebrows were drawn together. More than usual, you’d say.

If you were honest, you would have told him you didn’t always feel like you did great. That you felt like it was so difficult to understand who you were supposed to cater to when everyone had a different opinion and kept expecting you to bounce back every time you met a new challenge. Because you were so good at your job, that came with expectations.

However, your relationship with Sakusa wasn’t like that, so instead your eyes teared up a bit and you whispered a weak “Thank you”.

He nodded but desperately wished you were close enough that he could ask you to tell him everything. To rest your head on his shoulder and hug you until the pain went away. But he knew he had to go back to practice any minute now, and you two would stay an unspoken thing.

You might have only started looking at him now, but he had practically been staring at you since the second he and his teammates came into that office. “I’m sure those idiots will charm everyone with time,” he said, an added assurance he didn’t usually give anyone else. “I’ve seen Bokuto practising his Bokuto Beam, lately.”

“You’re right,” you said. The Bokuto reference did make you laugh and quickly wipe at one eye where a tear threatened to fall from the pressure. It had been a long day. “I’m just glad you didn’t join them, imagine you finally started posting and I had to yell at you.” Sure, you would love a shirtless photo of Sakusa, but your job came first.

“Mm.” He cringed at the thought, hands stuffed in the pockets of his training jacket. After a beat of silence, Sakusa’s frown slowly loosened up. He was glad he could make you laugh a bit, that wasn’t usually his strong suit. “Anything else?”

“No, you can go,” you sighed. “They need you.” He nodded and silently got up, wondering if he should say something more. But he didn’t, he just left. It left you staring at the door, sighing deeply as you realised your predicament. You felt something special for Sakusa Kiyoomi.

As Sakusa got home and settled into his sofa after he was freshly showered, he unlocked his phone and opened messages. He wrote a message, deleted it, and then repeated this a few more times before switching to Instagram. There, he opened the story camera and angled it to show a small part of his pristine living room where the last lick of the sun was shining across the floor. Imagine you finally started posting, were the words that rang in his ears.

The picture he took was nice enough, and he added “Good evening.” in white before spending a while choosing the font he liked. He even added a calm song he heard the other day and grew to like.

After it was posted, the likes flooded in, but he turned on silent mode and switched back to messages. He wondered if seeing the story would make you do another victory dance. Once again, he opened your contact and wrote, deciding to finally send it.

What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?

You: Probably eat

Sakusa rolled his eyes yet smiled affectionately. Eat with me.

You: Okay:)

You: I look forward to it

No more 'unspoken thing'.

part 1 ║ part 2 ║ part 3 (final part) ║ masterlist

#hq sakusa #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #hq #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #msby sakusa #msby

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sugarlywhispers · 1 year

Text

s.kiyoomi + gf moments

☆— fem reader, crack, fluff

☆— a/n; i don't know what this is, i just had a thought and felt like writing it.. it could become a serie of events until the Sakusa Kiyoomi finally admits he loves y/n (?) idk, let me know if you like the idea😊

You have been best friends with Bokuto since you were young. Your friendship was so fun and purely like brother and sister that you even decided to move together once high school was over and your University period of life began. Even if you were very different in personalities, somehow you both worked together and couldn't imagine a life without him as your bestie-almost brother.

After some time living together, you got very used to seeing some people around the house almost everyday, his volleyball teammates.

First, it was Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi. Atsumu was the biggest flirt you have ever encountered in your life, almost to the point in which sometimes it annoyed you. In a good way though. He was a cutie.

While Kiyoomi was very chill and shy, he mostly kept to himself if no one bothered him; but he had the most snarky and filled with sarcasm answers for whatever antics Boo and 'Tsumu could come up with. You loved it.

Then Hinata Shouyo joined the team, and it was like a whirlwind uprooted everything in his path. He was the most outgoing and sociable and kind human being you have ever met.

And it all became like a routine. Everyday after practice, all of them would come to have dinner at yours and Boo's apartment. By this time, you already know all of them and how they all liked things and their meals. Especially Omi. He was a particular, rare especimen.

Bokuto had warned you before introducing him, how he did not like physical contact or how he wouldn't take off his mask if he wasn’t playing in a match or eating. He warned you not to feel offended or take it personal if he bluntly commented on how things were not clean enough or whatever.

But surprisingly, he had never looked down on anything in your apartment or even commented anything in front of you.

There was even one time he did comment in the middle of dinner, "I'm surprised how you maintain everything this clean and organized considering you live with Bokuto…"

"Hey!" Boo complained, mouth full of food, while everyone laughed.

That same night, Boo had pestered you about how the Sakusa Kiyoomi liked you. Of course, you couldn't believe it. The man barely spoke to you outside of those moments the team was present at your apartment.

It was until one night, when everyone came of course after practice to have dinner you were already cooking, when he did something you never thought he would do.

Of course, the amount of noise they made even before getting inside the apartment was a clear sign they were almost there. Shouyo and Boo always came straight to hug, picking you up and squishing you hard as a greeting. Atsumu would fist pump and wink at you before throwing himself on the sofa, of course putting some other volleyball's team match on the TV. While Omi would simply bow slightly with his head, not even getting too close to you, standing on the entrance of the kitchen.

By this time, you already knew and respected each one of them and their ways to show how much they appreciated you.

"It smells so good, Y/N," whined Shouyo as he entered the kitchen and made his way to the fridge to pick something to drink.

Omi was so quiet you have not realized he had followed the red-mostly orange-head and was standing at the door of the kitchen.

"I'm glad you think that," you smiled happily.

"He says that about almost everything. He would eat a bug and say exactly the same thing if he's hungry enough."

To say that you were surprised to hear his deep voice speak that amount of words was small. Yet, you couldn't avoid finding it funny how he always got the cleverest answers and dark humor. So you laughed, while Shouyo pouted, drinking from the beer he took from the fridge–it was Friday night after all.

You kept cooking, smiling and listening to how Shouyo complained to his teammate how evil he was with him when he was all nice to him.

"Alright you two…" you meddled, smiling happily at the incessant noise from everyone around, "If you're gonna keep arguing, you could at least help on setting the table, right?"

They both nodded while moving around to find what they needed, still arguing, but now about something else which sounded like Shouyo's height. Omi loved getting on Shouyo's nerves when it came to his height.

"What's that, Y/N?" Shouyo suddenly asked, signaling to a set of a plate, forks, a glass and a mug that were separated in a corner of the cupboard.

"Oh. That's Omi's," you said, your attention anywhere but said man.

"I don't remember leaving my stuff here," he commented, with no mean intention in his voice towards you.

"No, I mean… I know you don't like your stuff mixed with everyone's, so I picked a set I always clean twice and kept it separated from everything else. No one touches or uses that but you," you answered him, still looking at the food you were cooking over the oven.

Oh, God, kill me now, was all you thought as silence reigned in the kitchen.

But then, you felt a tall, warm presence behind you. You knew it was Omi, Shouyou was not that tall–he was only a head over yours, while you knew Omi was much taller.

It was the first time the Sakusa Kiyoomi got that close to you and it shocked you to the core. But what surprised you the most was when you felt his chin rest on your head comfortably.

"Thank you, Y/N," you could feel the vibrations of his deep voice and the rumble of his chest on your back saying your name, his entire dark but comfy aura so close to you, all you could think was how good it felt.

If you would have turned a bit to Shouyo's direction, you would have seen him with his eyes open wide, like those funny cartoons where their eyes popped off their face to express shock. Thankfully, he didn't say anything, he simply turned on his feet and flew from the kitchen to the living room where Tsumu and Boo were.

"You're welcome," was all you could say, almost a whisper, as he comfortably stayed there, barely a centimeter of distance between his body and yours.

If you weren't shocked enough by that, you definitely almost collapsed when you felt one of his fingers timidly caress your hand that was not holding the spoon you were cooking with, resting next to your hip. It had been barely a touch, yet the warmth and little tingling it provoked made you take a deep breath to gather your mind straight.

If you hadn't before, now you definitely were falling for this rare specimen.

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