or when your persian princess get pregnant by the black tomcat of the hot neighbor
-> post timeskip Kuroo Tetsuro X fem! reader | strangers to lovers
-> wordcount: 7.5k
-> tags: soft nsfw close to the end, sloooow burn, mutual pinning, post timeskip
@ anni says: I had to take this out of my head. already thinking about part two. let me know if it's too much bc I found it very dragged, idk. hope you enjoy
Marching torwards your neighbor door, you question yourself how is that even possible.
Your cat, Lola, a white persian, lies lazily on the animal carrier, and you huff annoyed, looking at her.
“I thought you hated other cats, you little troublemaker” — you mumble to the cat like she can understand you. And for her lazy grumbling, you know she can.
You knock on the white door three times. It’s late enough for the guy already be at home from work, but not late enough for him to be sleeping, you think in your head, looking at the 20:37 appearing at your watch. He’s a corporate worker like yourself, you saw him many times in the elevator with his suit and tie and his badge—
You were dry cut mid thought by the door opening, and the delicious scent of musky soap invading your senses.
Kuroo is standing, puzzled, wearing grey sweatpants and a black tank top, slightly wet hair, tilting his head. The girl next door, he thinks to himself.
He had seen you around countless times on the common areas, in the elevator, in the pool in a skimpy bikini, even at the gym. But what could you possibly be doing on his door?
You look at him, allowing your eyes to fall in his figure for miliseconds, enough to take notice of his strong biceps on show. Scrumptious. Then you focus back on his face.
“Hi, neighbor. Your cat just impregnated my kitty.”
He just looks at you for a couple seconds, his eyes slightly widening as the words slowly sunk on his brain.
“Excuse me?” — He asked, blinking. He’s either really tired or you are saying the most unlikely thing ever, and he didn’t know what is worse.
You squint, still a little annoyed, but slowly getting amused.
"Sorry the suddenness... you're the owner of that black short-haired cat, aren't you?"
You ask, and as if on cue, the little fella appeared strutting and mumbling a grumble behind Kuroo's legs, apparently curious of who's in the door
Kuroo looks down at the cat and then back at you, his eyes widening a bit as realization sank in.
“Ah— yes…” He says slowly, his eyebrows knitting in a frown. “This is Loki, yeah”.
He looked down at the cat again, who is now sitting and looking up at you with his big, yellow eyes, as if he knew exactly what you were about to say.
Kuroo crouched down to scratch behind Loki’s ears, his lips quirking into an amused grin.
“Looks like someone had a productive week,” he said dryly, casting a glance back up at you.
You huffed, crossing your arms. “Productive? That’s one way to put it. My vet bill is going to be very productive, thanks to him.”
Kuroo straightened up, the movement drawing your eyes to the way his tank top stretched across his chest. You swallowed quickly and forced your gaze to his face— a smirking face, of course.
“Alright, I guess I owe you an apology?” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Though, to be fair, it takes two to tango. Maybe your girl couldn’t resist Loki’s charm.”
You blinked, caught off guard by his playful boldness. “Excuse me? My Lola is a lady of standards.”
“Clearly,” Kuroo said with a teasing edge, his smirk deepening. “I mean, look at Loki—absolute catch.”
You tried not to laugh, but a small snort escaped, and you covered it with a cough. “Okay, fine. Maybe they’re both to blame. But seriously, I thought she hated other cats. I didn’t even know they interacted.”
“Cats are sneaky like that,” he replied, shrugging, his tone light but his gaze lingering on you for just a second too long. You felt a strange warmth creep up your neck and mentally cursed him for being so... distracting.
“Well,” you started, clearing your throat and glancing down at Lola, who was now staring at Loki with her usual haughty expression, “Anyways. Just wanted to let you know that. And to ask if you know anyone who might want some… persian mixed kittens? I figure that the least you could do is help me find a home for them after they born”
Kuroo raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re already putting me to work, huh? I didn’t realize Loki’s charm would come with responsibilities.”
You shot him a flat look, though the corners of your lips twitched. “You do realize this is partially your fault, right? Or are you just going to let me deal with a whole litter of kittens by myself?”
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fair enough. Consider me on kitten duty.” His smirk softened into something a bit more sincere. “I’ll help however I can. They are Loki’s kids, after all.”
Something about the way he said it, the playful yet genuine tone, made your resolve to stay annoyed falter. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
“Good,” you said, a little less stern this time. “You can start by helping me figure out where to set up for them. I don’t have much space in my apartment.”
Kuroo’s grin returned in full force. “So what I’m hearing is... you’re inviting me over?”
Your eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by his boldness, but you recovered quickly, giving him a pointed look, raising your eyebrows smugly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, neighbor. This is strictly business.”
He laughed, the sound low and warm, and you hated how much you liked it. “Strictly business, got it.”
Loki chose that moment to rub up against Kuroo’s leg, his tail swishing as he let out a satisfied purr. Lola, still sitting primly in her carrier, let out an indignant grumble in response.
“Seems like they’ve got a complicated relationship,” Kuroo remarked, glancing down at the cats. “Enemies? Lovers? Frenemies?”
You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Let’s just call them… complicated.”
“Works for me,” he said with a wink, straightening up. “Complicated relationships are kind of my specialty.”
Before you could respond—because what could you say to that without your brain short-circuiting?—Kuroo kept going: “I’ll check around to see if anyone’s interested in adopting some kittens,” he added casually. “Can I have your phone number? You know… to discuss kitten details?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, catching the glint of mischief in his tone. You said back with a mocking hint of disbelief. “Uh-huh. Kitten details. Sure.”
Kuroo raised his hands in mock innocence, the smirk still playing on his lips. “Strictly business, remember?”
You rolled your eyes but relented, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “Fine. Give me your phone.”
He handed it over without hesitation, and you quickly typed in your number, labeling yourself as Kitten Lady. When you handed it back, Kuroo glanced at the screen and let out a laugh.
“Kitten Lady? That’s what we’re going with?”
You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Fits the situation, doesn’t it? Unless you’d prefer something more creative, like Annoyed Neighbor Who’s Stuck With Your Cat’s Consequences.”
“I think Kitten Lady has a nicer ring to it,” he said, his grin widening.
You shook your head, trying to ignore the way his playful energy was starting to chip away at your annoyance. “Alright, then. I guess I’ll be hearing from you soon, Kitten Dad.”
Kuroo raised an eyebrow at the nickname but didn’t argue. “Kitten Dad, huh? I’ll take it. Has a nice familial touch to it.”
You sighed, stepping back toward your door with Lola in tow. “Goodnight, Neighbor,”
“Goodnight, Kitten Lady,” he replied smoothly, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you retreat.
As you reached your door, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. He was still standing there, Loki in his arms, one hand casually rubbing behind Loki’s ears, his eyes locked on you with an unreadable expression.
You quickly looked away, fumbling with your keys and stepping into your apartment, shutting the door behind you. Leaning against it, you let out a slow breath, placing Lola’s carrier on the floor and opening the little grid door.
Lola meowed lazily, peeking out of the carrier as if she were judging you.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, setting the carrier down and letting her out.
Lola stretched and sauntered off, clearly unimpressed.
You rubbed your temples, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. This was going to be a long few weeks, wasn’t it?
Across the hall, Kuroo closed his door with a quiet chuckle, looking down at Loki, who was now lounging contentedly on the floor.
“Well, buddy,” he said, crouching down to scratch under Loki’s chin. “Looks like you’ve caused some chaos.”
Loki purred in response, blinking up at him with an air of smug satisfaction.
Kuroo leaned back against the door, a small smile lingering on his lips as he pulled his phone out to save your number properly. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment as he read Kitten Lady 🐾.
He stared at it for a beat longer, that grin of his softening slightly. This might just get interesting.
Surprisingly enough —or don’t— he was the one to text first just a day later. You’re at work, sipping coffee after a meeting, scrambling some papers on your desk when your phone buzzed. The Kitten Dad name made you squint your eyes.
Kitten Dad: Hey, goodday sweetheart. You good? Just got asked when is little Lola due. A friend from work might be interested in having one of the kitties.
I look at the text. A friend from work? He text and I can’t help but imagine how is he at work. Is he a manager? A head? A director? Which department is he from? If I had to guess I would say Sales — he’s charismatic enough to sell sand in the desert.
I huff in annoyance with my own train of thought. Why am I thinking so hard about it? I take my phone to answer.
Kitten Lady 🐾: Hey. Vet said she’s due two weeks from now.
The response was simple, straightforward. Yet, as you set your phone down, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d sounded too curt. No, you told yourself firmly. It’s just a text. No need to overthink.
But then, your phone buzzed again, and against your better judgment, you snatched it up almost immediately.
Kitten Dad: Two weeks, huh? That’s soon. Let me know if you need help setting things up for her. I’m practically a cat expert now.
You bit back a smile. Cat expert, huh? You could practically see that cocky smirk on his face, the same one he’d worn when he leaned in the doorframe last night.
Kitten Lady 🐾: Oh, are you? Should I start calling you Dr. Meow?
It took less than a minute for his reply to come through.
Kitten Dad: Has a nice ring to it. Or Cat Whisperer. Either works.
You let out a small laugh, earning a confused look from a passing coworker. Quickly composing yourself, you turned back to your desk, cheeks warming for no apparent reason.
By the time you got home that evening, you were surprised to find Kuroo opening his door, like he was waiting for you to arrive to leave and talk to you. He was holding a small, rectangular package in his hands and greeted you with his signature grin as he walked torwads you and your door as you opened it.
“Evening, Kitten Lady,” he said smoothly. “Perfect timing.”
You blinked, shifting your bag onto your shoulder. “Uh, hey? What’s that?”
“Thought I’d swing by and help with that whole ‘setting up for Lola’ thing,” he said, holding up the package. “Got a starter kit—fluffy blankets, soft toys, and some other stuff. Figured it might make her more comfortable when the kittens arrive.”
You stared at him, stunned. For all the teasing and smug remarks, you hadn’t expected this. “You… bought stuff for Lola?”
“Well, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “I mean, it’s partially Loki’s fault, right? I can’t exactly leave you hanging.”
For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. There was a sincerity in his tone that caught you off guard. He wasn’t just trying to charm his way out of responsibility—he was actually being… thoughtful.
“That’s… really nice of you,” you said finally, unlocking your door. “Thanks, Kuroo.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, following you inside.
Lola, as always, was lounging regally on the couch, barely sparing Kuroo and Loki—who had, unsurprisingly, followed him to your place unbothered—a passing glance.
“She really does act like a queen, doesn’t she?” Kuroo said, setting the box down and kneeling to unpack its contents.
“She’s earned it,” you replied, watching as he pulled out a fluffy blanket and a tiny cat bed. “I mean, look at her. She’s unbothered by everything.”
“Clearly,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “She didn’t even flinch when Loki walked in like he owns the place.”
You snorted, crossing your arms. “She’s probably plotting her revenge for him ruining her peace.”
Kuroo laughed, the sound warm and easy, and you found yourself smiling despite yourself. He had a way of making everything feel light, even when you wanted to stay annoyed.
“Alright,” he said, turning back to the task at hand. “Where do you want this stuff? I’ll help you set up her little kitten corner.”
You hesitated for a moment, but eventually pointed to a cozy nook near the window. “Over there, I guess. She likes the sun.”
“Got it,” he said, grabbing the blanket and bed.
As you watched him work, his movements uncharacteristically focused, you couldn’t help but wonder: was this the same guy who smirked at you in elevators and flirted shamelessly by his door? Because right now, he looked… different. Softer, somehow.
“You know,” you said after a moment, “you’re surprisingly good at this whole ‘cat dad’ thing.”
He looked up, his grin returning. “What can I say? I have hidden talents.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. Maybe this arrangement wouldn’t be so bad after all.
The kitten corner was finally set up, and Lola had already claimed her throne atop the soft new bed. Loki, meanwhile, was having the time of his life pawing at one of the dangling toys Kuroo had brought over, batting it around like a tiny predator.
You were in the kitchen, rummaging through your cabinets for something to fix up while Kuroo lounged on the couch. The sound of his laughter floated through the room, warm and unrestrained, as Loki miscalculated a jump and landed in a comically undignified sprawl.
“You weren’t kidding about him being a troublemaker,” you called over your shoulder, smiling to yourself as you grabbed a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine you’d been saving for some occasion. This felt good enough.
“Hey, he’s a charming troublemaker,” Kuroo countered, his voice carrying an easy humor. “Loki’s got personality. You can’t fault him for that.”
You rolled your eyes, pouring the wine. “If by ‘personality,’ you mean a complete lack of grace, then sure.”
“Hey now,” he said, mock-defensive, “I’ll have you know he’s a highly sophisticated creature.”
Turning with the glasses in hand, you walked back to the couch and handed him one, tilting your head toward Loki, who was currently tangled in the blanket he’d been pouncing on. “Yeah, I can see the sophistication from here.”
Kuroo snorted, taking the glass from you with a murmured “Thanks,” before shifting to make room for you to sit. You settled cross-legged into the cushion next to him, a comfortable silence falling as you both watched the cats in their oddly synchronized chaos.
“So,” you said after a moment, swirling the wine in your glass, “what do you actually do? Besides spoil Loki and crash your neighbor’s evening.”
Kuroo grinned, taking a slow sip before answering. “I’m a PR manager for the promotion division at JVA. Basically, I work with the teams that keep the company and our sponsors happy. Events, campaigns, all that good stuff.”
You raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. “JVA? As in the Japan Volleyball Association?”
“That’s the one,” he said, flashing a toothy grin. “Biggest name in the game. It’s a lot of work, but I like it. Keeps me on my toes.”
“Wow,” you said, nodding. “That actually explains a lot. You’ve got that… people-person vibe.”
“Oh?” he teased, leaning back against the couch. “And what vibe is that, exactly?”
You rolled your eyes but smiled. “You know. Smooth talker, always charming. Classic PR type.”
Kuroo chuckled, resting his arm casually along the back of the couch. “I’ll take that as a compliment. What about you? What’s the story with… what do you do, again?”
“Marketing manager,” you said, shrugging. “Different industry, same chaos. I work for a firm that handles branding for retail clients. It’s mostly brainstorming ad campaigns and arguing over budgets.”
“Sounds intense,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But you’re good at it, huh?”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I mean, I guess. I like it. It’s creative, and it keeps me busy.”
“Busy’s good,” he said, nodding. “But it doesn’t leave much time for stuff like this, huh?”
You glanced at him, unsure what he meant, but his gaze was fixed on the cats now. Lola was swatting half-heartedly at Loki, who had resumed his enthusiastic assault on the dangling toy.
“No,” you admitted softly, swirling the wine in your glass again. “Not really. I guess I don’t usually let myself slow down.”
Kuroo looked at you then, his gaze steady but unreadable. “Well,” he said after a moment, his voice lighter again, “it’s a good thing you’ve got me to force some downtime on you, huh?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, is that what this is? A public service?”
“Exactly,” he said with mock seriousness, raising his glass in a toast. “Here’s to kitten diplomacy and responsible downtime.”
You clinked your glass against his, unable to hide your smile. “Cheers to that.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to relax. The warmth of the wine, the sound of his laughter, and the soft chaos of the cats were all more comforting than you’d expected. Maybe Kuroo wasn’t just a charming troublemaker after all.
And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind him crashing your evening.
Two glasses of wine in, and you were feeling a little loose, the warm buzz in your cheeks spreading to your limbs. The evening had been lighthearted—talking about work, random anecdotes, and occasional jokes about the cats and their ridiculous antics.
You were now sitting cross-legged on the couch, your messy bun more of a loose cluster than a tidy knot, strands of hair falling against your flushed cheeks. You animatedly gestured with your hands, describing some recent event at work. Kuroo is now leaning forward with that usual relaxed, playful energy that made you forget there was anyone else in the room.
“—and I swear, if I have to sit through one more ‘group synergy’ meeting, I’ll scream,” you finished with a dramatic sigh, dropping back onto the couch, rolling your eyes.
Kuroo snickered, leaning back, arms crossing behind his head as he relaxed. “Group synergy? That sounds like a nightmare. You really don’t like your coworkers, do you?”
You shot him a teasing glare, settling deeper into the couch. “I’m professional, I swear. But, seriously, it’s the worst. A whole hour, and not one person had anything worth saying. They spent half the time discussing what color the logo should be on our next campaign. I almost fell asleep.”
“Well, at least the logo’s going to look great,” Kuroo teased, reaching for his glass and taking a casual sip.
You snorted and looked at him sideways, the wine making you more comfortable than you intended. “You’re one to talk. You’ve probably sat through worse in PR. What’s the worst meeting you’ve ever had to deal with?”
Kuroo tilted his head, thinking. “Hmm, I guess the worst was this entire week-long campaign brainstorming session where we just talked about the idea but never actually did anything. People in that room were like… walking around in their own little PR bubbles. I nearly lost my mind.”
“Is that why you’re so laid-back now? You survived that chaos and just decided to become a permanent chill vibe?”
“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “I figured if I could survive that and still be sane, I deserve to kick back a little.”
You shook your head, still grinning. “I can’t believe you’ve been in that world for so long. You must have some stories.”
Kuroo’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and you realized you might’ve just opened a can of worms. “Oh, definitely. A lot of interesting ones. You know, the kind where you end up questioning your life choices. And not only work-related.
You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “You’re gonna have to elaborate on that.”
He leaned in, his voice taking on a more conspiratorial tone. “Alright, alright. So, there was this one relationship I had.” He started, and you raise one eyebrow, not expecting him to just switch from work to personal relationship so quickly “She was a wild ride—great at first, but things got a little… crazy. Started out all perfect, you know? But then she started bringing up wedding ideas after a couple of months, and I’m like, ‘Whoa, hold up.’”
You laughed, raising your glass, poiting at him, remembering the topic from earlier, but not entirely knowing the story. “Wait, wait—this is the ex who nearly got you to the altar?”
“Yup,” Kuroo said with a smirk, swirling his glass, “but I guess she wasn’t the ‘I Do’ type, if you know what I mean.” He winked, and the playful lilt in his voice had you biting back a smile.
“No way. Did she have one of those ‘we need to talk’ moments?”
He nodded dramatically. “Oh, she sure did. But instead of talking, she got me into a whole emotional spiral. I was supposed to pick out wedding rings, and I—” He cut himself off with a laugh, shaking his head. “I mean, talk about commitment issues. You would have thought I was getting married to someone else the way she freaked out.”
You snorted, shaking your head. “That’s insane. What did you do?”
“Well, after a long string of very loud discussions, I ended up booking a solo trip to Thailand for some ‘soul-searching.’ I didn’t come back with a ring, but I did come back with a lot of souvenirs and a much-needed reality check.”
Your lips curled into a smile, impressed. “I mean, I don’t blame you. That sounds like a red flag festival.”
“Exactly.” Kuroo leaned back, letting out a chuckle. “I don’t think she ever quite understood why I ghosted her after that.”
You shrugged, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Well, sounds like you dodged a bullet. She was probably a headache.”
“Oh, definitely,” he said with a wink. “But, hey, I’m better for it. You live and you learn, right?”
Your expression softened, just for a moment. “Yeah, I guess so. Can’t say I’ve been any better at picking ideal relationships either.”
Kuroo’s gaze flickered to you for a moment, and the sudden shift in the air wasn’t lost on either of you. You could feel the tension coil between you, subtle but undeniable. He tilted his head, his tone more curious.
“You’ve had your fair share of messy affairs?”
You shrugged nonchalantly, but your fingers fidgeted with your wine glass. “I mean, I was in an office relationship once. It was… well, it was a disaster, to be honest. Started out all hot and heavy, you know? But once we hit that *‘what’s next?’* phase, everything went south.”
“Office romances are always a gamble,” he said, voice quieter now. “Especially when someone can’t handle the post-work hours realities.”
You let out a soft laugh, but there was a certain edge to it. “Yeah, and the worst part? I thought we were solid. But he ended up freaking out when things got serious. Real ‘let’s keep it casual’ kind of guy.”
There it was again—the unspoken weight in the air. You could feel it creeping closer, like the world had just tilted slightly. You were both leaning in, caught in this space where the conversation could go anywhere—or nowhere.
“Funny how that happens,” Kuroo murmured, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your lips and back again.
You swallowed hard, lips slightly parted, suddenly aware of how close he was. “Yeah,” you said softly, the atmosphere thickening. “Funny…”
A long beat of silence followed. Then, as if the universe itself had just cleared its throat, Kuroo’s smirk deepened, and he leaned back slightly, breaking the tension just enough to let you both breathe again.
“Well, at least you didn’t nearly get engaged,” he said with a teasing grin. “I think that takes the cake on ‘bad decisions’.”
You shook your head with a soft laugh, relieved for the lighthearted tone again. “I’d be so much better at picking next time,” you said, looking at him with a sly grin. “I think I’ve learned my lesson.”
Kuroo raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering down to your lips once more. “Oh? What exactly does that lesson look like?”
You felt the heat of his gaze, and the sudden closeness seemed to make the space between you shrink even further. The way he was looking at you, the slight tilt of his head—it was almost like he was waiting for you to make the next move. It made your heart skip a beat.
You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus, but it was hard to ignore the way your body seemed to lean in just a little closer, drawn to him like a magnet. “Maybe…” you began slowly, your voice soft but carrying the weight of something unspoken, “maybe I’ll go for someone who doesn’t have a one-way ticket to Crazy Town.”
Kuroo’s lips curled into a half-smile, but it wasn’t as playful anymore. There was a hint of something else lurking beneath. He leaned in, ever so slightly, as if testing the waters. “You know,” he said quietly, “sometimes, a little bit of crazy isn’t always a bad thing.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “Is that so?” You met his gaze head-on, not backing down, but feeling your pulse pick up.
“Yeah,” Kuroo replied, his voice lower now, his tone shifting, “sometimes it’s just the right kind of chaos that makes things… interesting.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke, the words heavy with an almost tangible tension.
For a moment, the space between you seemed to dissolve entirely, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was this close to crossing that line. The line you both knew was there, but neither of you had acknowledged it yet.
“Is that what you’re offering?” you teased lightly, though you could hear the slight quiver in your own voice.
Kuroo’s smirk widened just slightly, but the warmth in his eyes remained. “Maybe…” His voice trailed off, but the way he said it made you feel like there was more to it, like he was almost daring you to take it further.
You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in just a little, your lips almost brushing as you whispered, “Maybe I’m not sure if I want to risk another ‘chaos’ just yet.”
Kuroo's gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest moment, and you could feel the charged atmosphere shifting. The space between you was narrowing faster than either of you could pretend it wasn’t. He leaned in a fraction more, and his breath was warm against your skin. “Maybe… that’s a risk worth taking,” he murmured, his voice now barely above a whisper.
Your heart raced, the distance between you two was practically nonexistent now. You could feel the heat of his body, his presence taking up all the space in the room. The playful teasing was gone—replaced by something far more intimate. More dangerous. His hand reached out, brushing your hair back from your face with a tenderness that had your breath catching in your throat.
Before you could respond, Kuroo's fingers slid gently down your jaw, and his thumb lightly grazed your bottom lip. The gesture was simple, but it felt like the world had stopped. The kiss was inevitable now.
Slowly, almost too slowly, he tilted his head, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most deliberate way. The touch was electric, sending a spark of heat rushing through your veins. You were almost caught off-guard by the intensity of it, but it didn’t take long for your lips to part, inviting him closer.
His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you in deeper, as the kiss grew more urgent, more demanding. The world around you melted away, the only thing left was the heat between you two. His lips moved with a teasing confidence, making sure you felt every second of it.
His tongue lapped on your wet cave like a thirsty man that haven’t seen water in years, and the sweet taste of wine made your head spin, chasing his own tongue in a soft sucking move that drove him insane.
When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, both of you trying to catch your breath. His lips curled into that familiar, mischievous grin. “Guess that’s one way to make a decision,” he said, voice low and raspy.
You opened your eyes to find him watching you, eyes darkened with something more than playfulness. There was still a hint of the teasing smile on his lips, but now it was accompanied by something far more tempting.
“Yeah,” you said, your voice a little breathless, “I think I’m starting to see what you mean by chaos.”
He chuckled, his hand still on your neck, fingers tracing small, absent circles on your skin. “Well, I’m not all bad at it,” he said with a wink. Without warning, Kuroo tugged gently on your arm, pulling you toward him until you were no longer leaning back on the couch. Before you could fully process it, you were perched on his lap, straddling him with your knees on either side of his thighs, the space between you two completely gone.
For a moment, you just sat there, a little stunned by how naturally it all happened. His hands slid to your waist, holding you firmly in place as his gaze swept over you. “You look better here,” he said, his voice deep, eyes never leaving yours.
You couldn’t help but laugh, trying to hide the sudden nerves that started to bubble up in your stomach. “Well, this is a bit of an upgrade.” You gave him a teasing smile, your hands resting on his shoulders, but the tension between you was palpable now.
Kuroo’s fingers tightened just slightly on your waist, his expression turning more serious. “Better be careful. We’re both dangerously close to making some bad decisions here.”
“Are you trying to scare me off?” You tilted your head, the edge of a challenge in your tone, but deep down, you weren’t sure whether you wanted him to back off or pull you even closer.
“Nope,” Kuroo said, his lips curling into a grin as he gently tugged you even closer, your body now pressed against his. “Just making sure you know exactly what you’re getting into.”
Before you could respond, Kuroo’s lips found yours again—hungry, a little less playful this time, but just as consuming. Your body reacted immediately, the heat between you two igniting in an instant. There was no more teasing, no more games. The only thing that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you even closer, if that was possible.
When he finally broke the kiss again, he exhaled slowly, resting his forehead against yours. “You sure you want to keep going?” he whispered, his voice low, but there was no mistaking the desire in it.
You grinned, your fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw, the touch almost affectionate now, despite the electricity between you. “I think,” you said slowly, your lips curling into a mischievous smile, “I’m already in too deep.”
Kuroo’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your waist as his smirk returned, cocky and satisfied. “Good. Because I’m just getting started.”
The make out session felt like it went on for hours straight. Enough for Loki and Lola engross themselves in the biggest nap, both balls of fur tangled on the fluffy bed.
One of Kuroo’s hand is sliding up your thigh, his long, slender and strong fingers slightly entering the hem of your cotton shorts, squeezing the flesh in his palm. His free arm is sneaked around your waist, pushing you flush against him on the couch as he spreads his legs, making yours spread in the process.
Your hair is as messy as it can get, your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are darkened and dilated, your white dress shirt have three buttons open and is half slid down your shoulder, exposing just a teasing piece of your black lacy bra, making the cleavage a white canvas for his lips to paint with soft red marks.
In swift subtle moves, your body unconsciously grinds down on his hard erection strained through his pants, offering a delicious type of friction that sends a wave of pleasure through your bodies and is both a torment and a relief. The movement makes Kuroo groan inside your mouth, and you swallow his noises like it can feed you phisiologically speaking.
You two are like a couple of horny teenagers dry humping each other on the couch and almost completely out of it. Almost.
That’s when a couple of knocks and a door bell incessantly ringing filled both your ears. Not from your place, but from Kuroo’s. And he groans deeply.
He completely forgot the boy’s night he planned hosting with Bokuto and Kenma in his place, and he mentally curses the past Kuroo Tetsuro for his life choices. But how can he had antecipated that a cat visit to spoil Lola and Loki’s future offspring would end up in his hot neighbor straddling his lap like a five course meal?
When his phone started buzzing on your coffee table with “owl guy” on the screen, he shouted from under you a “I’m coming, damn it”, more huffed and annoyed than he would like, but he didn’t care at the moment.
The scream pacified the guy out there for now, and he collapsed his head on the crook of your neck, mumbling against your skin.
“I gotta go, apparently” — he said while placing soft kisses on your skin, trying to come down from the high and dissipate the intensity between you. You hummed, already resigned with the fate that the momentum between you ended.
“Mkay…” You said, nuzzling in his hair, breathing in the scent of his musky shampoo, trying to tattoo it on your memory. “Go before the guy out there lose his patience,”
He huffed a chuckle on your neck, making you shiver, and you proceed to desintangle yourself from his lap as he stands up. Now standing, Kuroo whistle to Loki, calling him with a soft “Come on, boy” that makes you want it was meant for you. The black cat stands up with his ears perked up, slowly walking behind Kuroo.
You two don’t bid goodbye, not feeling the need to, and the things feel even more unfinished than ever.
As Kuroo leaves your door, hair messy, traces of smeared pink lipstick on his lips, his jaw and his neck, ragged breath, wrinkled clothes, Bokuto’s eyes widen and he tilted his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“I…” Bokuto started, looking from his door to the door he left “Bro, did I miss your door?”
Kuroo just rolled his eyes, trying to hide a smug smile, walking torwards his door to enter, not bothering answer his question, making the owl guy let out a boisterous laugh
Kuroo’s splashed in his couch, sipping from a bottle of water, while Bokuto is sitting on the counter stool, sipping one of Kuroo’s fancy scotches, looking at Kuroo with a funny face.
“Wait, bro, let me see if I got this straight… Your cat… banged the hot neighbor’s cat.. And now you’re doing the same?” Bokuto summarized the story that Kuroo just told him.
“That… sounded… animalistic”
Bokuto snorted, nearly spilling his drink. "Oh, come on, bro. You can’t tell me it’s not poetic. It’s like… fate. Two star-crossed lovers”
Kuroo sighed, rubbing his face with one hand while reaching for his own drink with the other. “First of all, no. Don’t call it fate. Second, Loki didn’t ‘fall in love.’ He just knocked up her cat, and now I’m stuck playing awkward in-law.”
Bokuto wiggled his eyebrows. “And you accidentally ended up in a heavy make-out session with said cat’s owner?”
Kuroo shot him a deadpan look. “Yes, Bokuto. That’s exactly how it happened. I tripped and landed with my tongue in her mouth.”
Bokuto gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “That’s insane! How’d you even keep your balance?”
Kuroo exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate you.”
Kenma, who had been half-listening while scrolling through his phone, finally spoke up from the other end of the couch, locking the phone and tossing on the coffee table. “So, are you actually into her, or was this just the wine?”
Kuroo opened his mouth, then closed it. A beat passed. Then another.
Bokuto leaned forward like he could smell the hesitation. “Ohhh, you like her.”
Kuroo groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. “I never said that.”
Kenma didn’t even glance up from his phone. “You didn’t have to.”
Bokuto grinned wildly. “Dude, you totally do. You’ve been all ‘hot neighbor this, hot neighbor that’ for months, and now you’re sitting here, looking like you just crawled out of a romance novel—messy hair, lipstick all over you, breathing like you ran a marathon—”
“Alright,” Kuroo cut in, pointing a warning finger. “I met her yesterday. There’s nothing there. We’re done with this conversation.”
Kuroo rolled his eyes at the topic, but his mind was already back at your place, back to the way you felt on his lap, the taste of wine lingering between kisses, and the way your fingers had tangled in his hair like you belonged there.
Yeah, he was screwed.
Bokuto smirked behind his glass. “You know that’s sus, bro. You never not wanna talk about the girls you hook up, sometimes you even share too much for our ears sake. And now you’re done with this conversation? Weird as hell. Are you high on catnip or something?”
Kuroo scoffed, taking a slow sip of his water, trying to ignore the way his ears burned at Bokuto’s words. “I just don’t feel like giving you two a play-by-play of my night, alright? Not everything is meant for your entertainment.”
Bokuto gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Kuroo Tetsuro, keeping a secret? Scandalous.”
Kenma hummed, eyes narrowingskeptically. “It’s either serious or embarrassing. Either way, he’s hiding something.”
Kuroo groaned, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Oh my god, can we talk about something else?”
Bokuto, ignoring him completely, turned to Kenma. “Serious and embarrassing is my guess. I mean, look at him—he’s got that ‘I just realized I have a crush’ face.”
Kenma finally looked up, golden eyes scanning Kuroo for a long, quiet second. Then, with the precision of a seasoned gamer landing a final headshot, he muttered with a smug smile, “You’re overthinking it already, aren’t you?”
Kuroo opened his mouth, but no words came out. His jaw tightened.
Bokuto’s grin widened. “Ohhh, he is.”
Kuroo scowled, sinking deeper into the couch. He hated how well they knew him. He hated even more that they weren’t wrong. His brain had been stuck replaying the feel of you against him, the way your breath had hitched when he’d gripped your thigh, the way your lips had parted right before he kissed you again— everything seemingly so physical and superficial, but there’s a deepth he’s not familiar with in the slightest. Is it the cat connection? Is it because you two shared too much right before the make out session and he realized how you’re a mix of smart, successful, hardworking, independent and authentic wrapped up in devastatingly hot body and pretty face?.
Shit.
He needed to get a grip.
With a sigh, he grabbed the scotch glass from Bokuto’s hand and took a sip himself. “I swear, you two have way too much time on your hands.”
Bokuto just wiggled his eyebrows. “And you have a hot neighbor on your hands.”
Kenma smirked slightly, going back to his phone. “This is gonna be fun to watch.”
Kuroo exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “I hate both of you.”
Bokuto just laughed, spinning the empty glass in his hands. “Nah, you love us. Just like you looove—”
“Finish that sentence and I’m throwing you off my balcony.”
Bokuto made a show of zipping his lips but kept grinning like he’d already won. And, honestly, maybe he had.
Because Kuroo was distracted. He was so distracted.
Even as Kenma and Bokuto bickered about what game to play next, his mind kept drifting back—to your place, to the taste of wine and heat on your lips, to the way your fingers had tugged at his hair like you needed him.
It was supposed to be a casual thing. Just some alcohol-induced fun. That’s what he’d told himself when he went for the kiss. But the way his body was still thrumming with leftover electricity and his mind was yearning for a deeper connection told a different story.
And the worst part?
He wanted more.
A lot more.
With a quiet groan, he tipped his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. Maybe he really was screwed.
Kenma’s voice pulled him back to the present. “So, when are you seeing her again?”
Kuroo scoffed, grabbing his phone from the coffee table. “I don’t know. Whenever Loki and I happen to bump into her, I guess.”
Bokuto snorted. “Dude, your cat is literally dating her cat. You have the perfect excuse.”
Kuroo glared at him, but his fingers hovered over your name in his messages. Should he text you? Would that be weird? Too soon? Too obvious?
Before he could overthink it, his phone vibrated with a new message.
Kitten Lady: Hey, I was thinking about making some arrangements in the kittens corner tomorrow. Wanna come help me with it?
Kuroo blinked, rereading the text. A slow smirk spread across his lips.
Kenma, eyebrows widden in a stunned expression, muttered, “He’s smiling. This is worse than I thought.”
Bokuto clapped his hands together. “Boys, we have a situation!”
i'm rlly glad everyone likes this as much as i do lmao
warnings. nsfw, minors DNI
details. m!masturbation / jerkin it in the shower / pining!kuroo / unrequited?crush / hard to get!reader / manager!reader / training camp setting / implied degradation kink / implied play fighting thing / kuroo is a switch / kuroo with a big...ego / player!kuroo / 1.7k words - maybe a sneaky link part three? reply to be tagged
links. my masterlist. more haikyuu here. part one. requests open.
After today, the only way Kuroo would be able to handle so many confusing signals and unwanted emotions was to carve out some time in the shower and 'work it all out.'
"F-uck," Came out way whinier than he expected it to.
He pushed his furrowed brow into his forearm, a scowl carved into his mouth at the sound.
The tension there faded fast.
What the fuck was your problem? Was there some cosmic rule that prevented pretty girls from being nice?
He wracked his brain to remember that one little moment you smiled. How it softened that mean-ass pout you held so well, made you look leagues more approachable. Maybe that was why something had possessed him to point it out and ruin it so quickly.
For now, stuck like a picture in his mind, it wouldn't fade so fast.
But the tightness stuck across his stomach softened, and so did the edge he had worked up.
"Mm-hn," He smiled, lifting his head from the nook of his elbow with a small chuckle.
Maybe that didn't do as much for him as your frown, after all.
Thinking about that sweet, preoccupied moment made him feel a little more guilty for beating it to you. You looked too sweet to fuck with. At least when you treated him like a dog, it was like you both had a shared understanding of what he was really doing. He didn't have to hide it or lie; he wanted you, and you played it off like you weren't into it.
That was the problem.
He seethed, palm stalled for a moment before he let himself go.
With slow, sobering effort, he flipped around to lean back on the tiled wall. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shower door and couldn't comprehend why you didn't find him attractive enough.
A lifted, bulky arm revealed an impressive array of serratus muscles in the foggy glass, little abdomen lines dipped and crossed and dove down to his v-taper. The guys always joked that he was could pursue a career in modelling if this volleyball thing didn't work out, save for the messy hair; he knew he wasn't some ugly, sniveling little loser-- so why didn't you act like he was?
He puffed out a harsh, frustrated sigh and pumped himself with a frown.
Were you playing around, just teasing him, and playing hard to get? Or did you, for some inconceivable reason, not want him back?
Shit, at this rate, he started to question if he'd be able to cum with no clear answer.
Then that fucking voice of yours, calculated but honeyed, was in his ear- ringing against the shower walls, echoing his name. It wasn't nice, it wasn't real, but it was hot.
A warm huff at the fantasy.
His cock twitched against his grip and leaked clear at the tip, more interested in the image of your perfect tits squished up under that clipboard when you verbally degraded him in front of his rival.
As his hand did an okay job at pumping out the stress of today, his gaze, though hesitant, softened. His jaw relaxed, lips parted, and in the process caught a bit of excess water.
Shit, did he like that?
Your callous, narrowed, and judgey eyes really got him worked up. He spat the mixture of extra water and drool onto himself, gasping at how much better it felt when he pretended it was yours.
If that's all you wanted, just to make him feel less than- well, you were hot enough to roleplay for. He'd be down for something like that if that was all he could get.
He kept a steady pace, breath shallowed and faster, to the thought of you calling him some dirty little nobody who liked beating it to you (it wouldn't be entirely wrong). How disappointed would you be when he came too quick, all because he couldn't handle your tight little pussy?
You could use him all night 'till you came. He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed, shaky, through his nose.
Yeah, you didn't seem like the type to just lay down and take it.
That was alright with him. He liked sexually liberated women. A little play-fighting, some dirty talk- if you just got off your high horse for one second, he could make it worth your while.
He knew you loved the chase. You wouldn't be watching him so hard at the match if you actually thought he wasn't worth your time. Just one night couldn't have possibly been beneath you.
"Fu-ckfuckfuck," He laughed, seething at how quickly he could edge himself to that bitchy pout of yours, especially the one you'd give him if you found out what he was doing right now.
All you wanted was the power that came with being a stuck-up prude - to feel less dirty than guys like him. At least he had the courage to initiate something.
But at the end of the day, nothing about stroking his cock to you in a shower felt courageous.
Decency and pride aside, he was able to cum hard to the fresh memory of you in that wet t-shirt, watching him absolutely kill that match.
-
In the aftermath, he was a bit standoffish with the team.
The nature of his jack-off session left him feeling nastier than usual. He didn't want anyone clinging on him, or standing too close. Like somehow they would smell how filthy his imagination had decomposed into.
He was successful, not because of how good his evasion skills were, but because the guys were too hungry, preoccupied with cooking, and equipped with no substantial mass-food-prep experience. It was a rowdy kitchen and relatively empty everywhere else.
So he was slumped over the entire couch, wearing only plaid pajama pants and house slippers, watching videos on his phone with glazed eyes.
A knock at the door went ignored.
He popped his head over the couch to see if anyone else was going to answer the second time, but was only met with distant yelling about the rice cooker. Yamamoto hadn't plugged it in like he thought 20 minutes ago, and a stranger might assume he was about to get executed.
Kuroo paused the match on his phone and hopped over the back of the couch. He realized it was raining outside when he touched the cold doorknob and quickly opened it without looking through the peephole.
He looked forward, left, then right- then down. Surprise left his lips through an uncontrollable laugh.
"Sorry-!" He snickered, "Didn't see you there."
It's not like you were exceptionally tiny, but he was expecting Bokuto, if anyone, and especially not a girl.
You weren't laughing. He cleared his throat and rubbed the side of his damp head with an awkward sigh.
The little overhang on the porch was enough to keep you dry as you spoke, so there was no rush.
"I thought the other teams could use this. I made too many," You explained, only offering him a dull tone as you tried not to stare at his shredded body, "Pork buns."
He took the bag slowly, first interested because he was starving, and after a moment, then that you cooked.
"There should be enough for everyone."
"Thank you," He said right away, glancing up to you, at the bag, then back at you.
It was cute. His uncertainty brought a small smile to your face. You covered it up by toying with your jacket collar, and looking down at his pink slippers.
Outside was cold, and wet, and the wind was harsh when it blew every twenty seconds. His first thought was to invite you inside, flirty but well-meaning for the most part, but an instant pang of post-nut guilt, as well as some classical conditioning from earlier today, kept his lips sealed.
You watched a narrative play out on his pretty face. If he wasn't going to keep this up, even after you 'accidentally' made too many pork buns, you figured it was too much effort now.
A sweeter, more natural tone was in your farewell, "Goodnight--,"
"Wait."
He shot his hand out low for a second but took it back almost as quickly.
You stood, turned on your heel, waiting for him. It was what he wanted, but not quite right. His heart skipped, causing his hands to tighten, knuckles white and cold.
A sigh you could barely hear over the rain picking up, "Never mind."
Your eyes ran over his struggling form. He was broken in, the way you wanted, but not quite right. You decided there was no value in teasing him with your presence any longer, so you looked away from the mess you had both made of him.
"Goodnight." The door closed.
Not too hard, not too soft, but in just a way that emphasized more need to clarify why he didn't just slam it, if he was going to close it at all.
There were a number of reasons you hesitated at the top step, watching the rain grow heavier and crash onto the grass, spill over the gutters and flood the sidewalk. It was getting darker and colder by the second. What was so wrong with him? You couldn't quite remember now.
He stood with his forehead on the other side of the door, face twisted with the pain of a shot not taken- but, probably better off than humiliating himself for no good reason anymore. A powerful shame was overwhelming his desire to eat any of the pork buns in his hand.
When he straightened, a long sigh verbalizing the painful movement, he was about to call out for dinner--
You knocked again. Three times, softer in volume, but a loud gesture nonetheless.
The door opened to reveal his shocked, searching expression. There was a roll of thunder.
Warnings: smut. this got filthy, be warned. porn with a plot. dirty talk. some light bondage. bdsm. spanking. strong and explicit language. mdni! nsfw under the cut
word count: 5.5k sorry
@ anni says: I have nothing to say on my defense.
It was all fun and games, until the cards were out,
and you don't really know how things escalated so quickly
One moment, you were all just playing truth or dare — after being invited to a gathering with MSBY guys and some other people. Being friends with Bokuto from high school and moving to the same city as him after a job proposal made you eventually got closer
The next moment, you're exchanging kinks with Bokuto's hot friend, all because you picked “truth” one time after being tired of drinking shots and calling strangers as a dare
“A— wha— no way you're into this— you—”
Bokuto stares you with incredulous eyes, speachless , and you realize he didn't know this side of you.
The other hot friend, Sakusa you think, scoffs, diverting his eyes, trying to sound unamused, but failing to hide the soft red tint on his cheeks
“Disgusting—” he said
While the bright friend, Hinata if you recall, gasps in a similar way as Bokuto, completely red
Atsumu looks at you with predator eyes and a wicked smile
“I like yer friend, Bokkun…”
He stated with a hint of intensity in his voice, a timbre that traveled electric straight through your spine, pooling in your lower belly
You take the can of beer, gulping a big sip to try and release some of the tension on your body
“’m not drunk enough to keep this conversation going”
You murmur, avoiding Atsumu's gaze, but there is a heat rising to your cheeks that betrays your feigned disinterest.
The room fills with laughter, easing the electricity in the air, but you can't shake off Atsumu's intense stare.
Sakusa, surprisingly curious, mend his observation
“But how public are we talking about here? I understand the thrill aspect, but wouldn't that be… Unhygienic…?”
You narrow your eyes, feeling the uneasiness on Sakusa’s tone
“I mean… isn't sex supposed to be… filthy”
In unison, Sakusa frowned, Bokuto gasped, Hinata's eyes widened and Atsumu cracked a laugh,
by the thick of it, they had this conversation before
“Can't believe ya hid this girl from me all this time, Bokkuunn!”
Hinata, looking away, muttered “you're insane…” under his breath
Atsumu raised an eyebrow, his smirk not wavering
“Insane?” he retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice “or you're just vanilla”
Sakusa rolled his eyes
“Not this again”
You chuckle at their bickering, your suspicions of them already having that conversation before proving right
"Oh? Again?" — you ask curious to know, but also diverting the attention from yourself
Bokuto, finally snapping out of his surprised state, let out a laugh, joining the conversation,
"Well, let's just say we've had quite a few discussions about the topic"
Atsumu grins wider, not missing a beat
"Mostly me and Bokkun having fun and Omi being the prude he is”
Sakusa rolls his eyes yet again, but he doesn't deny it
"Just because I have some level of self-respect and don't relish in unsanitary activities doesn't make me a prude" he huffed
Hinata, looking a bit more composed but still embarrassed, pipes in
"I mean, I understand the appeal, but I'm with Sakusa on this one...”
Atsumu, feigning hurt, clutched his chest dramatically
"You're all crushing my soul here" he exclaimed
Sakusa rolled his eyes once more
"The world will mourn the loss, I'm sure" he retorted sarcastically
Not missing a beat too, I barge in their bickering
"I feel you're being too judgemental here..." — I say, subtly siding with Atsumu on the matter
Atsumu grins, catching the subtle support
"See? She gets it," he says, winking at you
Sakusa narrows his eyes, not buying into your facade
"Or she's just as insane as you are" he retorts dryly
"See? Unfair judgement" — you say playfully, somehow enjoying to poke fun in Bokuto's uptight friend
Bokuto laughs aloud at your retort, clearly enjoying the banter, and Hinata couldn't help but crack a smile too
Atsumu leans back, a sly grin on his face as he speaks energically
"Finally, someone who isn't a stick in the mud" he says, glancing at Sakusa
Sakusa rolls his eyes once again, apparently used to the banter by now.
Atsumu turns to you now, a glint of interest in his eye, a spark of mischief
"So... what else do you like?...”
I raise my eyebrow, sighing when I feel the attention coming back to me
"That's a loaded question—”
Atsumu leans in, propping up his elbow on the table, his gaze fixated on you with a playful glint
"Well, it's not like we're asking you to reveal state secrets" he replies, a smirk still present on his handsome features
Sakusa, ever the skeptic, speaks up
"Yeah, but I'm not sure I want to know the answer to that" he says curtly
You start saying, trying to use Sakusa's words to deflect the attention,
"See? Nobody wanna know about—"
“You look like you're into pain… Pain or pleasure?… or both?” — Atsumu interrupts me, and I wince internally
You let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head, knowing Atsumu's words are like a trap. A trap you're more than willing to fall for
"They're the same…" You say smugly
Atsumu's smirk widens when he heard your reply, his eyes glinting with amusement and challenge
"Exactly my thoughts" he says, his voice a low growl
Sakusa, who'd been quiet, sighs
"Of course you two would get along in the insanity department" he mutters
Atsumu ignores Sakusa's remark, and leans a bit closer, a sly grin on his face
"You like to be in control... or you like to be controlled?...”
You narrow your eyes at how delicious that question sounded
"Both. And why not fight for control?"
Atsumu looks pleased, like he found someone who actually meets his level
"Now we're getting somewhere" he says with a smirk
Sakusa rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of curiosity in his gaze
Hinata, red as the cherry, glances away and Bokuto's eyes light up like he's just figured something out
Atsumu's smirk grows darker, his eyes fixed on yours as he continues
"You like it rough, don't you...?” he mutters, his voice lowering an octave
You raise one eyebrow at him, and your gaze slowly falls down on his hand as he holds his beer... strong big sharp setter hands that would look so goddamn delicious around your neck... or pinning your hands on your back while railing you from behind... or spanking your ass while you lay on his lap... or gripping your hair and yanking your head back...
But you don't comment on any of it, just smiling softly and looking at his eyes again, saying a quick
"I do"
Atsumu's eyes darken at your look, sensing the lust behind it
Sakusa, noticing the tension, clears his throat and mutters
"I'm sure we've established that already, no need to elaborate further—”
"Rough... you say...?" he blatantly ignores Sakusa, and repeats with a dangerous smirk, like he's imagining all the ways he could make good on his thought
Hinata seems to have turned tomato red, while even Bokuto looks slightly flushed
"Rough."
You repeat the word, emphasizing even more, not daring to break the eye contact
Atsumu's smirk grows even wider, a spark of challenge and excitement in his eyes
Bokuto mumbles something under his breath that sounds like "jesus christ"
Hinata just sits there, blushing furiously
Sakusa, being the voice of reason, tries to cut in
"You two are downright filthy" he mutters, rolling his eyes
You raise your eyebrow at Sakusa, poor boy meeting you today and probably already with a terrible image. But you say to him either way
"Are we that filthy or you're all just boring"
Sakusa, taken aback by your response, frowns as if offended
"Boring? I prefer the term... clean" he retorts
Hinata, trying to lighten the mood, lets out a nervous laugh
"Yeah...we're just... normal-"
Bokuto, suddenly joining the conversation again, chimes in
"No, no, no, speak for yourself! I'm definitely not that boring!”
You frown, a hint of confusion in your face, and a lot of playfulness, finding curious the word Sakusa used
"How can someone be... clean... while actively exchanging bodily fluids with someone?"
Hinata looks like he's about to combust from embarrassment, while Bokuto gapes
Atsumu, looking absolutely smug, let's out a bark of laugh
"That's what I've been sayin' all this time!" he exclaims, looking at you with approval
Sakusa, ever the skeptic, crosses his arms, a frown on his face
"And you seem so proud of it..." he mutters, his tone filled with subtle judgement
Atsumu grins, unfazed by Sakusa's disapproval
"Absolutely!" he exclaimed, leaning back on his chair with a air of confidence
Bokuto, still trying to wrap his head around the statement, chimes in
"Wait, are you saying... you like being... messy?”
You tilt your head
“It's sex! It's supposed to be messy!”
Sakusa's frown deepens, but there's a hint of a flush on his cheeks, while Atsumu laughs aloud
"Preach, baby!" he says loudly, clearly enjoying himself
Bokuto, still trying to process the conversation, mutters something he heard from Sakusa
"But...but cleanliness is important..."
Hinata agrees, nodding eagerly
Sakusa glares at you, as if trying to scold you mentally
You squint your eyes, trying to process his words
"Define cleanliness... in that context"
Bokuto hesitates, not quite sure how to explain and Hinata looks equally perplexed
Sakusa, being the most composed, replies with a frown
"Hygiene... not exchanging... excessive bodily fluids..." he mutters
Atsumu rolls his eyes playfully
"Boring." he adds, a hint of judgment in his tone
You gasp dramatically, smiling playful. Of course in your head you immediately think of all of the subversive disgusting things you might like… But you try to act composed to make your point
“Not exchanging bodily fluids in an act that consists mostly of bodily fluids exchange?!?!”
Bokuto, Hinata, and Sakusa look slightly taken aback by your reaction, while Atsumu laughs aloud at your performance, clearly enjoying the whole situation
"Exactly! It's like trying to enjoy a soup without slurping it, it's— it's just wrong!" he exclaims dramatically, with the same tone as you
You crack a laugh at his analogy, loving how he picked your cue and mirrored your tone with the same feigning drama. You back him up again
"Exactly! It's like trying to eat a sandwich with a fork"
Atsumu grins, enjoying the banter
"Or trying to enjoy a pizza without getting your hands greasy!" he adds, playing along
Bokuto laughs at the metaphor, while Hinata looks like he's trying his best to appear unfazed. Sakusa rolls his eyes again but can't hide the small smile tugging on the corners of his lips
Bokuto jumps back into the conversation, his innocent eyes now filled with curiosity
"So... just to clarify... you like it messy, right?" he asks, trying to grasp the conversation
Hinata looks flushed and uncomfortable, unsure of where this conversation is going. Atsumu grins at the question, looking at you for your response
"Ok, disregarding of what I like or dislike... the thing itself IS messy" You say, trying to divert a little, but also keeping the discussion going, exposing your true opinion
Bokuto seems to contemplate your response, but still looks somewhat baffled. Hinata is silently blushing, looking like he's trying hard to act unfazed, though failing
Sakusa, again being the voice of reason, points out
"But... there are ways to minimize the mess...”
You narrow your eyes, unable to process his point of view
"But why would you even minimize the byproduct of the pleasure?"
"Well...to maintain some level of dignity and propriety in the act...not everything has to be so... wild...” — Sakusa retorts, seeming slightly flustered by your bluntness
You gasp again, unable to follow his train of though, once your own point of view is the opposite
"Noooo! You're ruining it! It's supposed to be wild and animalistic"
Sakusa rolls his eyes, clearly not understanding your way of thinking
Atsumu, loving every second of this interaction, laughs aloud
"Exactly! That's why I like her! Can we keep her?" he exclaims, grinning at you approvingly
Hinata, still pink, mutters
“I...I think I'm gonna need another drink..."
Sakusa scoffs, but his annoyance is clearly fading away
Atsumu grins, leaning in with a playful glint in his eyes
"Can we keep you, though?" he asks, a hint of genuine interest behind his jest
"Keep me? I feel like a stray cat now”
"Yeah, a stray cat sounds about right... wild, a bit naughty, and craving attention...”
"You're gonna keep me and what? Put me on a leash?”
Atsumu grins wider, the image clearly appealing to him
"Well, depends on how obedient you are... a leash might be necessary" he retorts sarcastically
"Might be, huh? And what else? A collar with your name on it?"
Atsumu's eyes light up with excitement at the imagery
Bokuto, laughing, comments
"Yeah, like a brand of ownership"
Hinata is looking slightly flustered by the conversation
Sakusa, ever the skeptical one, mutters
"You're both unhinged...”
Atsumu grins at Sakusa's comment, clearly unbothentered by his disapproval
Bokuto, still amused, chimes in
"Come on, Sakusa, don't knock it till you try it"
Hinata, red as a tomato, tries to change the subject
"Guys, shouldn't we talk about something else?”
You all ended up changing the subject much to Hinata's innocent mind, but Atsumu switches places to sit beside you, placing a hand on your thigh under the table the whole time.
The conversation continues more lightly, but Atsumu occasionally sneaks glances your way, his hand remaining on your thigh, occasionally giving it a gentle squeeze, subtle, possessive, promising…
Sakusa, sitting across from you, notices Atsumu's gesture, but pretends to ignore it
---
After a while chatting and drinking some more, you claim you need to go home, having to finish some work stuff tomorrow morning.
Atsumu put up a little fight, but offers you a ride home in the end, and you agree.
Once you've excused yourself, bidding everyone goodbye, and agreed to Atsumu's offer of a ride home, he pulls you towards his room, making sure no one notices your departure.
You gasp silently, whispering with a feigning outrage
"What are y-- Miya!"
Once you're inside, he closes the door behind him, pressing you against the wall, his body trapping you between the hard surface and himself
Atsumu grins at your gasp, clearly enjoying having you trapped against the wall. He leans in close, his lips hovering just above your ear as he whispers back
"It's Atsumu, say it again" he commands, his voice low and sultry, with an undertone of possessiveness
You narrow your eyes with his demand, his voice traveling straight down your body in an electric shock, making you comply
"Atsumu..."
You say, whispering softly his name. Atsumu grins, his eyes darkening with desire at the way his name rolls off your tongue
He leans even closer, his body pressing against yours, his breath ghosting over your skin as he talks into your ear
"Again. Louder" he whispers, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear
You let out a dirty chuckle, opening up a mischievous smile
"If your want me to scream your name you're gonna have to work for it, Miya"
Atsumu's eyes glint with excitement at your challenge, his competitive nature sparking. He grins back at you, equally cunning
"Oh, is that a challenge, kitty?" he asks, his hands resting on your hips, his grip tightening He leans in further, his lips now so close to your ear that they're practically touching it
"Trust me, I'm more than willing to put in the work" he whispers, his tone sultry and commanding
His hands slide up your sides, smoothly taking your arms and pinning against the door, intertwining your fingers
You raise your eyebrows, your eyes fluttering with both his voice and his breath in your ear, his tone entering your brain and delving inside your sinapses, making you almost melt
But yet, you smile equally smug, arching your back a little, the restrained arms making your head dizzy, and you just lift one of your thigh to his waist, hooking around him to bring him closer, pressing his hips against yours
"God, you're intense..."
You whisper, realizing you're about to fuck a guy you met today and probably you would totally do insane shit voluntarily if he asked you
He held your brain captive already, and you have no idea when that happened
Atsumu's eyes widen a fraction at your unexpected move, his body responding immediately to the contact of your thigh wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush against you, your pelvis meeting his hips in a provocative embrace
He lets out a low, guttural whine, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly as he tries to regain his composure
"And you're a goddamn tease," he retorts through gritted teeth, his breath hot and ragged against your skin
His brain turned to mush at your every move
Something happened outside, on that dirty little drunk chat between friends, that put both of you under each other's spell way before any physical touch happens
Atsumu's body is now flush against yours, his hips pressing into your spread thighs in a possessive manner, the outline of his hard cock making wonders to your brain, as your skirt rides up violently, the heat between you palpable
He takes a moment to regain control of himself, his breath is coming in uneven gasps, his eyes fixated on you with a mixture of desire and determination
"You really know how to push my buttons, don't you?" he says, his voice gruff and deep, his hand release your hands and slides down trying quickly unbutton your shirt
“Shut up and fuck me” — you say as breathless as he is right now, and you swear you could feel his dick twitch in his pants between your legs
You arch your back further against the door aiming to feel the delicious friction of his clothed erection against, letting out a muffled moan
Now with free hands, you take advantage to slide them down and starts unzipping his pants
Atsumu hisses at your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he focuses on the feeling of your hand working on his zipper
He fumbles with the buttons of your shirt, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation as he exposes more of your skin with each one
Atsumu takes a moment to take in the sight of your exposed skin, his eyes hungrily roaming over your body as he lets out a ragged breath
He advanced like a starved man, his hand cupping your breast over the black lacy bra, squeezing it like his hand was made for the curves of your body, making you envy every volleyball he ever touched
At the same time, he lean in, biting the side of your neck on the conjuction of your shoulder, your neck and your jaw, making you wince and moan languidly, as you whisper his name again
“Atsumu… Fuck…”
Your hands are already slipping inside the open zipper of his pants, enveloping his hard warm cock over the thin fabric of his boxers, sliding down on his shaft while he growl on your neck, drooling and bucking his hip against your hand
In a quick motion, his hands travel down the back of your knee, lifting you and making you hook your legs around his waist while he presses you against the door, making your skirt pool in your waist, exposing the sight of your black lacy panties
He advanced further, one arm holding your waist, the other hand threading and gripping your hair in the back of your head, angling your head to push his tongue mercilessly inside your mouth
And you take it like it's the most sweet treat you've ever tasted, sucking his wet tongue while feeling the faint taste of whisky almost vanishing. You pushing your tongue back in, and hear his groans inside your mouth, lapping on it and swallowing his pretty sounds
The way you match his energy serves only to obliterate all of his walls and restraints, and before he even realize himself, his hand slid down from your hair to wrap around your throat, squeezing — gently at first — to part the kiss and look you in the eye, an evil wolfish grin, but honey dripping eyes
“Such a fucking whore”
“If I'm a whore, what are you—”
With your retort, he groaned and squeezed further your throat without thinking twice, making you lose your breath for a sweet instant and let out a hitched moan
Your reaction made him grin, and in the back of his mind, a random thought of having you like this everyday made his cock twitch again
“Squeeze my neck like that one more time and I'll meet you at the altar”
You said, interrupting his train of thought, and even in your own heads you were thinking similar
In another swift motion, he carried you to his bed, throwing you softly in the soft mattress before standing up to grab the hem of his shirt, taking it off, giving you a spectacle
“Fuck…” You mumble under your breath, watching the carved details of his ripped muscles while he fumble with his pants
“Like what you see, kitty?”
He asks cockily, his voice deep and low
“Fucking godlike—”
He grins, groaning, his head rolling back with the praise hitting all the right spots in his brain, and, for a moment, your mouth waters, looking at the view of his soft neck from below
“Flattery will get you everywhere you want, babygirl” he purrs so deliciously, standing almost naked, the outline of his strained cock inside his boxers flirting with you
On instinct, you get up, kneeling on the bed, pulling him by the neck, biting his bottom lip and kissing him again, slowly stepping back making room for him, as he kneels on the bed
When you feel he's fully on the bed, you place your hands flat on his chest, pushing him to lay down, and he complies easily
“Then let me go for a ride, baby” you whisper
He growls as he lays on his back, with a smile that make your heart skip a beat as you hop on top of him, straddling his waist, and his hand instantly hook on your skirt to zip and finish taking it off, while you take off the open shirt
“I'll wife you up in no time if you keep that up”
You chuckle as you sink down on his lap, feeling his clothed cock deliciously settle in contact with your wet clothed pussy, probably staining his boxers as you shamelessly grind against him, his fingers gripping your thigh with bruising touch and his mouth letting out the most delicious moans, thrusting his hips up
He reaches down, unable to hold the impulse to feel your insides, and lower the hem of his boxers, exposing his cock and thrusting up against you
You moan, and his hands travels upwards to cup your breasts again, pulling your bra down to expose it all for him, supple flesh escaping his fingers as you moan again
He props his body upwards to capture them, one breast in his mouth as he sucks the sensitive hard nipple like a hungry man, while the other stays in his strong hand like he owns it, playing and squeezing
He ends his ministrations with his mouth tracing a path up, marking in purple a line from your breasts to your collarbone as you moan like a slut
You push him down again with one hand on his chest, as the other hand goes to his cock, feeling the smooth warm skin, pushing your panties to the side, lining him to your soaking wet cunt, feeling your own hand getting coated in your slick
Looking him in the eye, you start sinking your weight down as he deliciously stretches you, and he tries, he swear he tries to keep the eye contact, but the overwhelming embrace of your creamy walls were driving him wild, and his eyes rolls back instantly
“F… Fuck, baby… th-that’s some unfair pussy y’ have—”
You chuckle dirtily, feeling flattered in a twisted way, as your head leans back and your own body begs for you to move. Pressing your hands on his stomach to support your weight, you start riding, slowly at first, but picking a faster pace as you yearn for more
You moan in sync, and the view he have from you, bouncing on his cock, your boobs slipping off your bra, your blissful face with your head thrown backwards, your neck and collarbone with his marks… He almost cum on spot
He violently fists the sheets, arching his back, his knuckles white with the strength. You're riding him for minutes and he's already almost there.
But he can't, he refuses, he won't give in this early.
In a quick and aggressive move, he uses the mattress to stabilize himself, streightening his upper body, abruptly gripping your waist to make you stop moving
“Yer pussy is fucking pulsing, are you that desperate for me, baby?” he whisper close to your mouth, You moan softly, feeling him throb inside you
“Why stop? Can't handle it, love?”
You provoke, smirking, knowing exactly why he stopped, and he bite, giving one hard slap on the side of your ass, making you wince and moan
“I'm gonna handle you alright, babe…” he growls, while locking both of your arms behind your back in a tight grip, holding with only one hand, a grip I know will leave bruises
And just like that, I'm on his mercy even on top of him
He bend his knees, his free arm reaching back, positioning himself better to fully thrust up, while still restraining my arms
That's the hottest shit you've ever seen, you think to yourself
Sitting knees bent, cock buried inside you, he growls thrusting up with primal force, hitting places you may not even know existed so far
Your face contorts in pleasure, eyes rolling back, as the knot in your belly gets impossibly stronger by the second, and you're certain there's drool in the corner of your mouth
You moan loudly like a cat in heat, his name eventually escaping your lips
“Ah— ‘tsumuu… F— fuck”
“Where's that… ah— filthy sassy mouth of yours, huh?”
His tone only serves to make you clench stronger around him, fueling both his moans and his words
“Fuck, your pussy— ‘s trying to kill me”
“I'm— ah— fuckk don'tstop” You say loudly between whines
And just like that, he grips both the sheets and your arms even more strongly, gaining some leverage to fuck you harder, deeper.
That makes impossible to hold back, and without warning, the huge wave of pleasure drown you, making you pulse around his cock, cumming violently in a shock
He hisses, watching you come undone on top of him, your blissful face contorted in pleasure as he thrust a little more to prolong your pleasure, and he groans with your cunt constricting around him
“So fucking hot and for what—”
He say as you collapse your head on his shoulder, the muscles of your leg twitching
“On fours for me, babygirl. I'm not done with ya”
“I'd ask my money back if you were” you say back, still panting, still nuzzling in his neck, and he snorts
“Your mouth will be your demise—”
“…and I haven't even sucked your cock yet”
“’m gonna fucking tie you up, you minx”
You bite your lip, parting from his neck to leave his lap, eyeing him with a playful look on your face, ready for another orgasm
“Tie me up and use me”
He swear he almost came just hearing you say this with that playful face of yours, it could make men go to war. He had no doubt now that he had to do it.
“Turn around” he ordered while reaching a tie in his bedstand, and you comply eagerly.
He ties your arm on your back while peppering soft open mouthed kisses on your shoulder, and suddenly you're sure you're a goner
In contrast, when he's done with the knot, he pushes you so violently against the mattress, hitting a hard slap on your ass, and you moan like a whore, making him grin dirtily
“God, you really like this…” he says while pumping his cock a couple of times with one hand, grabbing your ass with the other
“And you're having a field day…” you say, your voice weak and strained
He starts slowly pushing himself inside you again, gripping your ass bruisingly with one hand, saying hoarsely
“Can you blame me?”
Just like that, he grip the arms tied on your back, pushing you back on his dick, making you arch and almost scream
“H—Holy shh— ‘tsumu”
And he was, indeed, having a field day, pushing his red angry cock inside you roughly, mercilessly, and out again, and in, and out— your brain turning to dust with his strength
The noise of skin slapping against each other, you're high pitched moans, his strong slaps on your ass and his moans and groans fill the room
After several minutes of his insatiable pace, he feels you're moaning louder, clenching tighter, and he leans down, his hand sliding from your ass to thread on your hair and tilt your head
“You close, baby? Give me one— one more… milk me dry, baby— ah… I can't cum without feel you one more time—”
Despite the strength and the roughness he's railing you, the delicious plead for your cum makes your head dizzy, and your body involuntarily answers him
You moan, your second orgasm hitting forcefully, his name leaving your mouth like a prayer as he straighten his body to lean his head back and just feel the blissfully experience of you coming again, groaning and closing his eyes like he's reaching nirvana
“Fuck—”
He say, feeling your walls constricting around his extra sensitive cock, and he hammers you again and again, seeking his own release
And it doesn't take long, with a guttural groan, he spills inside you as your legs shake desesperately, and you exchange seconds of synchronized bliss
Waves of pleasure still travel Atsumu's body when he reaches down, pulling the knot of the tie to release your arm
He collapses beside you on the bed, panting, breath hitching, sweating and groaning
“You… Where have you been all my life…”
You chuckle, turning to face him and dragging your body close to his, nuzzling in his chest while your muscles still shake
He receives openly, sliding his hand down your arm, taking your wrist to see his marks
“Did I hurt you too much?”
He asks softly, sounding almost apologetic, but you give him no time to feel guilty, smiling to whisper unabashedly
“No. You should try harder next time…”
He groans again, feeling his competitive fire lightening up all over again inside him, as he rolls on top of you
“You're terrible for my health, kitty” he purrs, kissing down your jaw, reaching your neck, and you can't help but let out a chuckled moan
“You can't be for real— you're getting hard again?”
He grins flicking his tongue to taste the skin on your neck while his knee open your thighs, with a dexterity of one who knows exactly what he's doing, and this time, as you feel his hardening cock poking your inner thigh, it's your time to say
“Where have you been all my life?”
---
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Hinata, Sakusa and Bokuto look at each other with widened eyes
“Bokuto, it's your fault” Sakusa say as another slap and another moan come in sync from Atsumu's room
“H-How is this even— I had no idea!” Bokuto tries to defend himself, and wince as he hears Atsumu loud growl
Hinata is speechless, red as a tomato, groaning softly and closing his eyes with his palms, trying to forget whatever he listened just now
Warnings: post timeskip Kuroo x coworker! reader, fluff nsfw-ish language
@ anni says: I'm Kuroo Tetsurou's whore. neways, this was just another self indulgent drabble that was lost in my drafts.
[cover by loony, go give her some lov]
the lingering stares, the coffee excuses, the light subtle touches while exchanging papers, the gossipy chatting every lunch break,
the way you look so goddamn hot when you’re focused in your work and how that sometimes distracts him from his own work…
and also the inhuman strenght he needed to gather to divert his stare from your plump thighs when you cross your legs under the desk… the privileged view from his desk across from yours can be also a burden sometimes
and then there’s that damn high heels you use… not often, though. only when there’s important meetings. makes you feel more confident, you said once. but god, when you use it he just want to lay on the floor for you to step on him
there’s more and more and so much more about the office bond he shares with you that irks him both in the right and wrong ways.
working in the JVA marketing implied that your most strong stakeholder was the promotion division, once the areas needed each other to thrive
therefore, makes total sense that you and Kuroo were so close to each other, right?
so it’s normal when you’re training a new intern and he tags along with the excuse to help you, but spends the whole time glaring menacingly at the guy when he stares at your cleavage a little to much, isn’t it?
or when he passes by your desk, leaving a chocolate every other week, with his handwriting in a note thay says “that presentation was sick, congratulations ;]” or “you deserve a raise, but take this chocolate in the meantime >:)” or some other silly thing that makes you smile
your eyes always dart to him, flashing a playful smile
but you also can’t help but think to yourself that he wanna fuck you so bad— and the thought itself is so entertaining that you shake your head, snorting, as he eyes you puzzled
the tension is clear for you as much as it is for him… he, too, checked all your boxes. a handsome smoking hot smart and competent man that has his eyes set on you? you’d be crazy not to enjoy
so, eventually, you would throw paper balls at him while he’s focused, making him roll his eyes and smirk
but also, you bring him coffee when you go get it for you. you know how he likes, he works so close to you, why wouldn’t you bring him one too?
and the glint in his eyes makes it worth it every damn time
neither of you were making the first move so soon, but everyone in the office knows about the unspoken bond you share, gaining some attention in gossip groups around the floor
but then, one day, you were working until very late, apparently alone at the office.
and suddenly, he popped up back in the office after having left already, with a can of beer, a loosened tie, two buttons opened, walking torwards your desk, placing the beer on your desk, beside your papers
you looked at him tilting your head puzzled
“Where did you get that?”
“At the bar across the street”
you tilted your head even more
“You were at the bar across the street and came back to the office to hand me a beer?”
“Exactly”
he said matter-of-factly, making you snort. his words were subtly slured, indicating he drank enough to get at least tipsy
“Why?”
“Why not?”
he answered shrugging, and you read through his attempt to divert the topic. but you also know he’s very stubborn, so you just brush it off
“How did you even know I was still in the office? It’s late…”
you say, while opening the can and looking at the hour on your computer
“It’s the first Monday of the month, you always stay late finishing the monthly report… Besides, I saw the light on from across the street… just put two and two together”
“Damn, you’re good—”
you say, amazed at how he memorized your routine by now, while sipping your beer, sighing as the cold liquid soothes your tense muscles, feeling the last motivation to end the report today getting obliterated
he watches your every move like a hawk, walking sneakly behind your chair to rub your shoulders
you sigh, feeling a chill down your spine with his touches, humming softly with the massage
“You’re done with the report?“ he asked, his fingers rubbing circles in your back muscles, sliding to your shoulders. you lean in his touch
“No… But I think I can finish it tomorrow morning,” you reply, trying to suppress the pleasure in your voice from his magical touch.
he chuckles lightly, lowering his torso to lean closer, his breath hitting your neck, making you shiver embarrassingly
“That’s what I thought,” he says softly, his hands never ceasing their movements, the tension that’s been building between the two of you for months feels like it’s finally reaching a boiling point
before things get awkward, you start to stand up from your chair, closing your laptop on the desk, sipping your beer casually,
he took advantage of the moment to pull your chair away, leaning closer, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth on your ear
“Don’t I deserve a… reward… for the beer and the massage?”
he whispered, his words borderline suggestive, the warmth of his breath making your heart race, his arms encircling your waist in a new way… despite your supposed closeness, it’s the first time you feel him this close.
his voice is like velvet, seductive and irresistible, making you question if this was a good idea.
you pathetically place your free hand on the desk to anchor yourself, feeling the weight of the intensity that has been building between you
”Is that what you’ve been thinking about all this time? Pinning me on the desk when there’s no one around?“
you whisper back, your voice dropping to a sensual tone as you lean back in his chest, looking at him through your shoulder
the tension is palpable, your mutual attraction finally coming to a head. you put your beer down on the desk, meeting his gaze with a daring look, ready to cross the line you’ve been flirting with for so long.
“And what if I have?” he whispers back, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. “What are you going to do about it?”
his challenge hangs in the air between you, a gauntlet thrown down, waiting for you to pick it up.
and that’s exactly what you do.
you turn around to face him, raising your chin to line your mouth with his, as his hands unconsciously sneak around your waist and your hands rests on his chest
“I might just finally kiss you… would that be bad?”
his eyes darken when he realizes you’re on the same page, his hands working to pull you closer.
“That might be the best idea you’ve ever had,”
and just like that, you two give up, succumbing to the tension building for months,
he leans in, or you lean in… its indistinguishable who kissed who first, but you capture each other’s lips in a heated intense kiss, your tongues already seeking each other’s and you taste the faint malt of the beers he had earlier, sighing with the deliciousness of it all
he gives one step further, boxing you on the desk behind, making you lean back, his hand traveling down your hips
you retaliate, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting softly, making him groan
he pushes his tongue inside your mouth again, and you gladly take it, sucking on it, kissing him back with the same passion
it feels almost relieving having him like this after so much tension building. it feels right.
he parts the kiss, but keeps his lips on your jaw, leaving a trace of wet kisses down, reaching your neck
you lean your head back, giving him free reign there, which he gladly take it, switching from kisses to bites, making you moan softly
your moan unlock something primal in his brain, and one of his hand on your hips travel down your thigh, reaching the back of your knee, pushing up on his waist, while the other arm encircle your waist, pushing you flush against him
all that while assaulting your neck with languig nibbles, and you can’t help but let out a chuckled moan with a smug smile
“Fuckk… eagerrr, are we?”
you say, low and purring, and the way you draw the words from your mouth goes straight to his pants, making his cock twitch, unconsciously grinding his hips against your thigh.
he grins, groaning a little in your neck, the tone vibrating against your chest
it takes you the damn last bit of strenght to knock some sense into him
“Mmhm… Kuroo… there’s cameras in the office… ”
you say slightly breathless, threading your fingers in his hair, gripping, trying to pull him away from your neck
“Call me Tetsurou”
he say lowly and you can’t help but huff a breathy chuckle
“Tetsurou…” you say, rolling his name from your tongue, liking the sound of it “there’s cameras—”
“They’re not gonna check the cameras unless something gets stolen…”
“We’re not fucking in the office,” you say categorically, your last ethical straw working doubled against the wetness in your panties
he parts from your neck, looking straight at you with hazel hazy eyes, his lips curling in his famous lazy smirk with a hint of smugness
“Oh? So we are fucking then?”
you narrow your eyes, he got you now.
you snort, grabbing his tie and pulling him for another kiss, mumbling a quick “Shut up”
he kiss you while chuckling against your mouth, his hand on your thigh progressing further, sliding your skirt up and invading under the hem of the clothing, feeling the soft skin he drooled so many times before—
“Not here, Tetsuro—”
he grumbles, releasing your thigh and raising his hands in mocking surrender
“Okay, okay… I get it” he says, then he takes your hand, pulling you closer to him “but you’re coming to my place now, and I’m not taking no for an answer”
as you two leave the workplace giggling and holding hands, your coworkers on the bar across the street watch the scene, all ready to let the gossip spread, but also knowing it was bound to happen eventually
Hello! I'm a new follower but I'm already devouring your works (and trying hard not to spam haha). I love your spicy sleepover games, it's such a fun theme! For the threesome weekend, can I request Oikawa and Atsumu? Thank you!!
(hihi welcome<3! thank you so much!)
atsumu miya x f!reader x tooru oikawa
c: 18+, competitive idiots, 2 ex boyfriends under one roof, squirting competition, fingering (double fingering penetration?), [implied unprotected p in v, creampies, cum eating]
SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — THREESOME EDITION!
“Just cause ya think you’re a god on the court doesn’t mean ya know how to make a girl squirt, dumbass.”
“I’m shocked any girls even let you get that close to them with that shitty dye job, Miya.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve fu—”
“Neither of you are getting any tonight if you don’t grow up.”
Atsumu and Tooru’s mouths both snap shut at the same time, and they have the decency to at least look somewhat apologetic as they glance down at you
It’s certainly not how you originally planned on seeing tonight pan out, lying in your bed between both of your ex-boyfriends who you weren’t even sure really knew each other beyond a mild acquaintance in the world of professional volleyball—but clearly they despise one another.
“Is being a conceited dickhead a prerequisite to being a pretty setter?” you ask sweetly, glancing between the two of them.
Atsumu opens his mouth, looking like he wants to say something, but Tooru punches him in the forearm, quicker to take a hint.
You dated Atsumu for a few years in college—you lived together in a shitty, one-bedroom apartment—and your intense, year-long fling with Tooru came a couple years after that. Neither relationship ended up working out, but you’ve stayed friends with both of them, passively keeping up with their volleyball careers and texting them every so often to razz them over bad serves and embarrassing paparazzi photos.
On your way home from work this evening, you’d received simultaneous texts from Atsumu and Tooru, which was an odd coincidence in and of itself. But the real kicker was finding out that both of them were staying at the same hotel for a volleyball conference—a hotel which had closed for emergency repairs an hour earlier due to a partial floor collapse. And because neither of them could find last minute accommodations, they both asked if they could crash on your couch.
Without thinking too much of it, you said yes to both, figuring it wouldn’t be an issue.
Spoiler alert: it was, indeed, a fucking issue.
Given your lack of a spare futon and their delicate sensibilities, you had suggested that because you’re all adults, one of them could sleep in your bed with you. The mattress is certainly large enough, after all.
Thinking back, you’re really not sure what possessed you to say it, given that they’re both the kind of people that will take their competitive nature to the grave. The argument had unfolded over an array of takeout boxes spread across your coffee table, nearly resulting in several chopsticks to the eye when they both tried presenting a case for who deserved to sleep in your bed.
While neither seemed to be under the assumption that sleeping in your bed meant you’d be fucking, the conversation grew cruder by the minute regardless, Atsumu nearly on the verge of whipping out his dick and a ruler just to prove a point.
You could blame it on the lack of compatible matches you’ve found across dating apps lately, or your vibrator that finally gave up and kicked the bucket last week.
But deep down, you knew the real reason for the tide of heat stirring in your gut—the fact that the two men seated on either side of your couch were the two best sexual partners you’d ever had in your life.
And that they were both also the only two people that you could fathom would be down for the ridiculous, hormone-fuelled idea brewing in your head—
Competing for the bed.
Sexually.
You’d struggled to find quantifiable parameters to judge them both on, going back and forth for nearly an hour until you threw your hands in the air, exasperated, and blurted out, “Well, nobody’s ever made me squirt.”
–
“So remember, when it’s your turn, you can do whatever you want to me—within reason—to try and make me squirt. When your time is up, you have to stop and switch. You’ll go back and forth until one of you wins, and winner takes the bed.”
Atsumu and Tooru both nod.
“How are we deciding who gets to start?” Tooru asks.
Six tied rounds of rock-paper-scissors later, Atsumu’s seething as he points a figure inches away from Tooru’s face and barks out, “You fuckin’ cheated.”
Tooru shrugs, offering him a wink before shoving him halfway off of the bed and climbing on top of you.
It’s odd how it doesn’t feel strange at all, staring up into Tooru’s soft brown eyes as he gazes down at you, your eyes fluttering shut as he cups the side of your face and strokes a thumb over your cheek.
Despite the years between now and the last time you found yourselves in this compromising position, it feels like no time has passed at all as he murmurs against your lips, “Hi sweetheart,” in the ghost of a kiss.
Something hot and insistent yawns awake inside of you, your lips parting slightly as his mouth scrapes over yours, your empty fingers twitching slightly from where they’re palm-up beside your head. You know it’s muscle memory—the way his hand slides up your wrist, fingers intertwining with yours as he presses down.
He takes your other hand and does the same, sliding both so that they’re pinned to the mattress above your head, his hips pressed against yours while he brazenly licks his way into your mouth just the way he knows you like it.
“You taste like honey,” he murmurs, a trail of spit hanging between your lips as he pulls away slightly before taking your bottom one between his teeth.
It was always a little difficult to breathe around Tooru, all that vibrant, fiery, addictive space he took up in your heart.
“Alright, time’s up, get the fuck up,” Atsumu grumbles, tugging at the collar of Tooru’s t-shirt.
Tooru releases you, holding up his hands and shooting you a smirk before sliding down to the end of the bed.
When Atsumu gets on top of you, it’s different—the feeling that floods your veins. It’s a soft, bright, all-consuming warmth, memories of late nights buried under the sheets and quiet, lazy Sunday mornings spent in bed with him. It’s still blistering, the edges of this heady attraction you don’t think you’ll ever be able to shake, but it’s carefully shaped by the tender afterglow of familiarity.
“Hey baby,” he grins, your heart somersaulting in your chest as he presses a slow, gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.
And then your nose.
And then your forehead.
It makes you ache, the way he never forgot this silly little game of teasing, delayed gratification. The way it became a ritual, your fond huffs of frustration as the path of his kiss deviated far beyond the reach of your mouth—from your shoulders, to your tummy, to your ticklish ankles.
There’s a pleased sound that rumbles in his throat as you unconsciously thread your fingers into his hair, just like you always used to, tugging his mouth against yours. His hands cradle your face, his lips a searing band that sets your pulse alight and thrumming wildly in your chest.
“I kissed better than that in high school, next,” Tooru sighs, unceremoniously tugging at the back of Atsumu’s mussed blonde locks.
He glares, squeezing your left hip once before rolling off of you.
“I’m surprised neither of you is rushing into this,” you observe as Tooru takes Atsumu’s place, trailing his finger along the thin strap of your sundress.
Tooru leans in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your sternum. His other hand wraps around your waist, and he chuckles quietly under his breath as your body arches upward into the sensation of his tongue caressing the place where the plunging neckline of the dress meets the swell of your breasts.
“Well it’s not going to work if you’re not turned on,” he murmurs, hand coming up to cup one of your breasts
He uses his thumb to drag down the material just enough to expose your peaked nipple, dragging his tongue in circles over the pert bud until you’re biting your lip to hold back the keening noise in your throat.
“I miss the pretty sounds you used to make for me,” he sighs, tugging down your dress further to let your tits spill out. “And these, I really miss these.”
He leans in, closing his mouth over one, noisily sucking and lapping at your tit as you let out a loud, trembling moan.
“Tooru.”
“Switch!” Atsumu barks out.
There’s a looking glimmering in Atsumu’s eyes—that determined, one-track focus he gets on the court before a serve. But it’s scalded with the simmering edge of the darkness blown out in his pupils that leaves you all too aware of the rapidly pooling arousal in your panties.
Seemingly of the same mind, Atsumu runs his tongue along his lower lip, mouth curving upward as he slowly pushes up the skirt of your dress until the black lace is on display. Spreading your legs, he settles between your thighs, holding your gaze as he pointedly drags a finger over your clothed cunt.
You know he’s not commenting on how wet you are because he knows Tooru will take all the credit.
Instead, he leans in, lips lingering against the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “We both know how wet I can make you.”
Unbothered by the barrier of your panties, Atsumu begins to massage your cunt from the outside, carefully watching the way the rising and falling of your chest accelerates with each pointed stroke of his thumb across your swollen clit.
And then he pushes your legs open a little wider, clearly having not forgotten the way you love to be spread open, and you have to press your face sideways into the pillow to muffle your brazen, needy moan when he starts to finger you through your panties. As badly as you want to feel the bare stretch of his fingers inside of you, there’s something about the way the sticky, wet lace drags against your slick, tight walls that has your legs trembling, a fresh gush of arousal leaking out of you.
“Fuck,” he exhales, fingers curling around your hip as he watches you rock your hips into his touch, trying to take him deeper despite the way your panties are limiting his movement.
“My turn,” Tooru cuts in, and you nearly groan in frustration as the pleasure simmering between your legs vanishes instantly at the loss of Atsumu’s touch.
Tooru spots the furrow in your brows and makes quick work of your panties, slipping them off and tossing them aside before coming to lay beside you. On your other side, you can feel Atsumu settle down into the same position.
“Hands off, Miya,” Tooru snaps.
“I just thought we were all getting comfortable,” Atsumu sighs dramatically, curling his hands around the pillow like a portrait of innocence.
Tooru rolls his eyes before leaning in close to kiss your neck, blazing a hot, damp trail of plush lips and sharp teeth as his deft fingers slide down the slope of your abdomen to rest atop your slick mound.
Having closed your legs slightly, you spread them wider again, and he takes your cue to slip one long digit into your wet cunt. You moan, your hips lifting up off of the bed to push him deeper inside of you, and he lets out a rough exhale, “Fuck, she wants it so bad.”
Atsumu’s breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he replies, “So fuckin’ bad.”
Tooru groans as you continue to try to fuck yourself on the single finger he’s plunging in and out of you, eyes going from your dripping wet pussy to the steady shaking of your tits.
“Give her another one,” Atsumu breathes out, sitting up a bit to watch.
You’re not sure when the fuck this became a collaborative effort, but you’re not complaining.
Tooru’s quiet for a beat before he replies, “Help me.”
There’s no hesitation in the way Atsumu’s hand snakes down, his finger sliding into your cunt right beside Tooru’s, and you let out a broken moan at the electrifying pleasure that pulses through your body at this—at being fingered by both of your ex-boyfriends at the same time.
Atsumu scoots closer, his front flush against your side, and you can feel the thick outline of his hard cock through his sweatpants. (Those stupid gray sweatpants you know he wore on purpose.)
Turning to him, you smirk, though it’s difficult when your face continues to contort in pleasure as they both pump their fingers in and out of your slick entrance. “I’m surprised you’ve kept it in your pants this long.”
Atsumu laughs, and the sound is low and rough as he leans in and murmurs against your lips. “I’m so goddamn hard.”
He kisses you, and it’s so, so messy, spit coating your lips as he wraps his tongue around yours, the press of his mouth growing rougher as your moans get more desperate.
“Me too,” Tooru exhales, his hands grasping your chin to pull your mouth to his instead.
One of them begins to stroke your clit with their thumb, and you gasp, drunk on the pulsating maelstrom of pleasure building up inside of you at a frantic, intoxicating speed.
And then, between one breath and the next, suddenly Atsumu’s mouth is right up against Tooru’s, and they’re both kissing you at once while they continue to stuff their fingers into your cunt. It’s so filthy, the spit-soaked way your mouths all slot together, the way both of their tongues wrap around yours as they curl their fingers and massage that soft, spongy spot on your inner walls.
When your climax hits, you’re not prepared for the intense, all-consuming downpour of blazing hot pleasure that floods your body, every thought in your head rendered useless beyond the way you nearly sob as you shout both of their names one after the other. Clear liquid squirts out of your cunt, spraying everywhere and soaking the sheets.
As you come down from your orgasm, the three of you lie there in silence for a few moments before Atsumu asks, “...do we need a tie breaker?”
Glancing over at him, you huff out a laugh. “No, because you’re both sleeping in here tonight.”
–
They bicker over it, just a little.
A few choice words tossed over the brushing of teeth and the shuffling of pillows.
But it’s all a moot point later when Atsumu’s groaning about how it’s the “hottest fucking sex he’s ever had” while he’s roughly fucking Tooru’s cum back inside of you.
(And he doesn’t even complain about semantics when you squirt one more time for Tooru while he’s eating the filthy mixture of their cum right out of your cunt after.)
Warnings: nsfw, suggestive convo, dirty talk, drunk atsumu, drunk call, nothing very explicit though
word count: 1106
@ anni says: I'm a sucker for this dynamic, probably will write more, let me know if y'all liked 🤲
“hello?”
you pick up the annoying phone buzzing under your pillow without sparing much time to check the name on the screen, assuming it's an emergency, since nobody would sanely call another person in the middle of the night if it wasn't important, right?
… wrong
“did I wake you up?“ — the voice on the other side said and you wondered if he was joking
you sat on the bed, looking to the clock on the bedstand
“it's 2am, Atsumu. Why are you calling?”
you asked in a deep hoarse sleepy voice, your forehead frowning while your brain tried to make the sinapses of why Atsumu Miya would call his PR Manager at such hour.
all the answers sounded terrible
“fuck, don't tell me you're screwing a married actress again? or you fought someone at a party? it's fucking friday Atsumu you're gonna make me work on the weekend again—”
“God, your voice is so hot when you wake up…”
he interrupted my rambling with his own and immediately I realize he might be drunk.
“where are you?” — I asked, a little more soothing now
“uhhh… home?”
“since when?”
“since… ten minutes ago”
“where were you?”
“i— at a pub? with Bokkun and some others”
“why are you calling?”
the line went quiet, I can feel the hesitation lingering, but I don't push it, just hearing his deep breathing for some long seconds
“i— wanted to hear your voice… you…”
he stops suddenly, and I let him be, laying back down on my bed, keeping the phone on my ear, looking at the ceiling
“are you drunk?”
“no. maybe? a little. but not much” — enough to call me in the middle of the night, I think to myself. but also don't comment on it
I stay quiet on the line for a few seconds, enough for him to protest.
“hey”
“hm?”
“talk to me”
he say, a demanding tone, and I can't help but snort.
“what do you want to talk about, Miya?”
“when was the last time you fucked somebody”
my breath hitched in a silent surprise, not expecting this question
“what the fuck, Atsumu—”
“answer me”
I stop on my track, narrowing my eyes and shaking my head, trying to remember when was the last time I—
“that'd be… three months ago? on a blind date”
“did you cum?”
my eyebrow raise on an impossible force, but I can't bring myself to be uncomfortable with his questions. a sick dynamic that blossomed after the Olympic games, when I cleaned up all of his messes
“I didn't”
“And when was the last time?”
I narrow my eyes, not quite catching
“Last time…?”
“That you came?”
“uhm… Last night? I mean, I don't need a man to cum, do I…?”
He hissed on the phone, that was the only answer I didn't antecipated.
“Atsumu, are you getting off from my voice?”
I ask bluntly, expecting an equal blunt answer. And how was my surprise when I didn't get one
“I— no, I don't… I just… that's not…”
“You're such a slut"
this time he graced me with a whimper from the back of his throat,
and somehow, in a sick way, I was starting to like
“… you drive me crazy, you know that?”
he said, his voice clearly deeper, darker
“how do I drive you crazy, Miya?”
“don't… dont call me that... not now”
“i’ll call you whatever I want, Miya”
he hiss again, and I almost chuckle. but I hold back, just asking
“what was that?”
silence on the other way, I hear him sighing, and I mend, testing the waters
“Atsumu?”
“Yes!”
he say immediately and exhasperated, and I smile
“you like how I say your name?”
“I… very much”
“what if I moaned your name?”
“… ah… fuck… don't say shit like that…”
“Okay, I won't…”
“But please do”
this time I can't hold back, I crack a laugh on the phone
“Miya, there's only so much mixed signals someone can handle”
“You speak like you'd let me fuck you even if I beg”
“We can't, Miya”
he sigh deep on the other side, I can hear the frustration in his voice
“I'll send my nudes to a sports journalist and create the biggest PR scandal MSBY has ever seen”
he say in a petty act and I crack another laugh, knowing he doesn't actually would do something of such magnitude. not purposefully, at least.
“You know that would only obligate us to stay in the same meeting room for long hours until I fix it, don't you?”
he sigh, frustrated again, on the other side of the line, and I hear muffled sounds of something soft, probably him shifting on his bed
but the silence linger again, and before he can protest, I break it
“You should go to sleep, you have practice tomorrow”
“… can't. ‘m hard.” — he say and I snort, biting my tongue to not ask for proof
“take a cold shower, masturbate, dunno. go to sleep, Miya”
I hear him sighigh frustrated again, another set of shuffling noises
“okay, I'll go”
he say and part of me feel bad, not wanting to end the call, used to this sick twisted intimacy that I cultivated myself
“You go, and don't get late for practice tomorrow. G’night”
“night”
his answer is dry, and before he (or I) can hesitate or say anything else, I press the red button, putting my phone down on the bed.
I sigh, throwing my arms on my face, knowing I'm in the wrong for indulging Atsumu antics,
but this dynamic, once settled, it's impossible to go back. The rush of dopamine is too delicious, making both of us stuck in a middle term limbo of attraction and curiosity, leading to a twisted intimacy.
after tossing and turning on the bed for a while, in a failed attempt to go back to sleep, I decide to take back my phone, seeking some brain distraction
and I see a lost text from Atsumu
i knew opening his message would only make things worse for me. But I do it either way. And the sight makes my mouth water.
“fucking hell” I think to myself, grumbling while opening the bedstand drawer where my toys are, preparing for a couple more hours of perturbation
Warnings: nsfw!, mdni, Bokuto has a sister, Kuroo Tetsurou x Bokuto's sister! reader
@ anni says: just a small self indulgent drabble. enjoy!
word count: 262
She was off limits
Explicitly off limits.
Then why does the softness of her plump thighs feel so damn good? So much better than the other girls?
There he was, groaning inside her mouth, dry humping his erection -- straining inside the pajama pants -- against her lacy clothed pussy, her nightgown pooling in her waist.
One hand holding her thigh by the back of her knee, slightly raising up to angle her even better.
Her tiny little whimpers being merciless devoured by his mouth.
Everything so erotic that gets so easy to forget how forbidden she is.
Or the forbidden makes it even more erotic?
A couple of hours ago he was with his best friend, playing videogames in the living room and binge watching some anime.
How did he end up in his best friend's sister's bed? Again?
He could hear the scolding voice of Koutarou somewhere in the back of his mind -- that one time he eyed her legs a little too much -- but the thought got completely obliterated by the way she moaned-whispered his name
“Tetsu— I need you”
You said needy, borderline indecent, your lips close to his lips, a thin line of saliva connecting them,
and how could he even deny anything to you when his dick almost gain life when you plead like that?
He just hopes Bokuto never dream about this obscenity. But even if he finds out, he doubt he'll regret.
Is he thinking with his cock? Maybe.
but he'd be damned if he doesn't give what you need now.
Warnings: self indulgent angst, Atsumu a little shitty, post timeskip
Songfic based on Nerves by DPR IAN. Highly recommend listening the song or watching the mv
word count: 1270
23:02h
Hi, how you doing?
I heard you seem to be happy now
Never in a million years Atsumu though he would sob so hard for someone
He never antecipated that his shitty behavior would draw away someone he loved so deeply
Although, his brother antecipated.
Since forever, Osamu knew that the raw words, the lack of tact, the uncaring demeanor and the obnoxious narcisistic behaviour would tire you out eventually.
And he alerted Atsumu, just as he did in high school.
So is safe to say the last person he could reach now was Osamu.
He know better than to hear a painful “I warned you, dumbass” from him in this state.
Not when he was still so vulnerable from this afternoon.
_____
13:43h
It had been three months of radio silence after the fight, and Atsumu was hanging on the thin thread of hope that you would come back to him. Just as you always did.
He didn't see it coming. But he wished he did.
While scrolling through the meaningless registers of people's lives, waiting for his coach, he saw the airplane window picture on your Instagram story, alongside the news that you were moving to another country.
Another fucking country.
Just like that.
Out of reach.
The ball fell. On his side of the court. The referee blew the whistle announcing that it was officially his loss.
But he never loses, how can it be?
He could feel the rush of adrenaline increasing his heart rate.
His body acted on his own.
He left his teammates confused at the gym and ran like he had never did in his entire life. Not even in a volleyball match to catch an unpredictable, difficult ball on the other side of the court. Not even in high school when he was late for practice, and the coach would scold him and double his warm-up laps.
His body ran towards a destination he knew all too well, apologizing to people he bumped into on the street until they all became a blur, and he gave up on his own awareness.
So you came around my house
And you left your marks with your fingertips
I'm sitting where you sat down
And now he's looking for something meaningless
The image of you picking that place because it was so close to both the MSBY practice gym and the office where you worked, and also had the best view of Tokyo at night, was burning somewhere in the back of his mind while his lungs worked double-time to keep up with his speed.
A couple of minutes of running, which felt like hours, he bumped gracelessly against the building door, opening it and fumbling inside.
Breathless, he almost broke the elevator button in his impatience, earning a glare from the doorman, who chose not to say anything due to the visible distress on Atsumu’s face.
Just like the mirrorless elevator, the hallway of the 13th floor seemed more claustrophobic than ever.
And the door of apartment 1307 no longer held the garland from last Christmas, the one you always claimed to forget there, but in reality, were just too lazy to remove, saying “Christmas is gonna be soon again” every time Atsumu pointed it out.
God fucking hell, he could swear he heard your voice in the back of his head, and he hated it.
His sweaty hands reached the doorknob. The door was unlocked, but the sight locked something inside him.
The bright, colorful, saturated walls you made him help you paint were now white.
It looked like a nightmare.
Each uncertain step he took inside the plain apartment was like a different stake driving into his heart.
The once lively space that echoed your goofy laughter and his loud one, but mostly your colorful warmth, was now nothing more than an empty shell.
His heart ached as he desperately clung to the fading memories of you.
Letting his sight scan the place, he spotted the small nook where you used to sit and read, the sunlight from the window casting a warm glow on the now vacant spot. The vision triggered a fresh wave of pain, his legs almost buckling under the weight of his grief.
He leaned his back against the plain white wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.
It was as if every inch of the apartment was screaming out your absence, the silence deafening.
He let himself drown in the sea of regret, each memory of you like a wave crashing over him, pulling him further into the depths of his despair.
And in that moment, Atsumu realized the full extent of his loss. Not just the loss of you, but the loss of the love and joy you brought into his life, the loss of the person he had become because of you.
And I'm sorry
I was hurting too much to know
That you were standing right there
And it hit him. All the times you were there for him when he was alone in Tokyo, way before his brother moved.
A country boy trying to reach his dream all alone. Trying to deal with the pressure all alone. Trying to handle the early stages of fame all alone.
But he was never alone.
He would cry comfortably in the crook of your neck while you combed his hair, soothing his soul.
“Breathe with me, baby,” you would say so softly to him when he was in the middle of some panic attack on a Wednesday night.
When the nightmares with the cameras, the press, and the fans woke him up, and you were just… there. Sleeping soundly. And his shaking figure would spoon you to scent the vanilla of your shampoo and calm himself down to sleep again, dreaming of taking you to the vineyards in Italy on his first vacation in-between seasons.
You were always there for him.
But he failed to remember when he was there for you.
You got a little nervous of running back to you
When you weren't there
____
18:33h
He didn't know how long he sat there, lost in his thoughts. But when he finally managed to pull himself together, the sun was already setting.
The view from the window was the same as he had seen so many times with you. But this time, it felt so different, so… dull.
Just like him now.
____
23:40h
He never anticipated that his shitty behavior would drive away someone he loved so deeply, even though Osamu anticipated it.
And now he was sobbing while his sore muscles were relaxing under the strong effect of the whiskey in his left hand.
His phone, forgotten all day in his pocket, was now in his right hand. His thumb purposefully ignoring all the missed calls from his teammates and his brother, to open a three-month-old chat.
Your picture almost made him throw the glass of whiskey against the living room wall. A picture that he took.
But he suppressed the bottled anger. His once unwavering steady setter hands, now trembling, typed away on a mission.
He wanted to be there for you at least once, knowing what’s best for you right now.
So against all the cells of his body pleading for your presence, he sent:
tw ⇢ dub-con, emotional manipulation, toxic/unhealthy relationship, borderline possessive kei, minor age gap (reader is 5 years older), sexual tension, angst, pining, akiteru x reader if you squint, fingering, unprotected sex, dry humping, begging, obsession, tsukki is kinda pervy
wc ⇢ 19k 💀
a/n: i did that thing again where i don’t know how to end a fic
Tsukishima was in hell. Every fiber of his being burned with an agonizing combination of desire and torment as your presence infiltrated his senses. The sweet, subtle fragrance of your perfume was a cruel tease, inflaming him while reminding him you belonged to someone else. His brother's easy laughter at some witticism you'd uttered grated in Tsukishima's ears like nails on a chalkboard.
He watched, jaw clenched, as you playfully swatted Akiteru's arm, bodies casually invading each other's space with a comfortable intimacy Tsukishima could only fantasize about. Your sparkling eyes crinkled at the corners when you giggled at his brother's reply, full lips stretched in an effortless smile that Tsukishima longed to taste.
Forcing his gaze away from the plump curves of your mouth, he let his eyes brazenly rake over the rest of your figure. The thin cotton of your shirt sculpted to the valleys and hills of your form, clinging in a way that made Tsukishima's throat go dry. He imagined peeling it off you slowly, calloused fingers tracing patterns on the bare skin underneath as you arched shamelessly into his touch.
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Tsukishima's neck. He shifted, pressing his thighs together as arousal stirred low in his abdomen. Silently, he cursed his brother's obliviousness to the temptation posed by your presence. Akiteru was a fool, taking your closeness for granted when any sane man would endeavor to thoroughly map every luscious inch of you with his hands and mouth.
"You okay over there, Kei?" Your lilting voice sliced through his lascivious haze. Tsukishima's eyes snapped up to meet your concerned gaze, heart pounding. Heat flooded his cheeks at being caught staring so brazenly. Recovering quickly, he mustered his most disdainful sneer.
"I'm fine. Though this room reeks of desperation..." He let the insult hang heavy in the air between you.
You blinked at him owlishly for a moment before rolling your eyes in exasperation. "Wow, as charming as ever I see," you drawled sarcastically.
Tsukishima's mouth curved into a smirk at having successfully riled you. He vastly preferred this - the playful back-and-forth barbs, the simmering undercurrent of antagonism - to the torturous visions of you wrapped around his brother. At least when you were riled up at him, those molten eyes were focused solely on Tsukishima.
"Don't dish it out if you can't take it," he goaded, taking petty satisfaction in the way your nostrils flared. You opened your mouth - likely to unleash a biting retort - but Akiteru spoke first.
"Come on you two, can we not do this today?" His brother sighed long-sufferingly. "It's bad enough having to deal with Kei's prickly 'holier-than-thou' attitude regularly."
A muscle in Tsukishima's jaw ticked as your gaze flickered briefly back to Akiteru. The unspoken bond between the two of you ignited a searing flare of jealousy in his gut. How easy it would be for Akiteru to simply reach out and pull you against him, burying his face into the inviting valley of your breasts as you giggled and playfully swatted him away...
The visions tormenting Tsukishima now were memories from long ago when he was just a child - back when you were still a frequent, dazzlingly bright fixture in the Tsukishima household. Back when his crush was new, freshly blossoming with the first tingling tendrils of innocent infatuation.
"Neeee-san!" The childish nickname you'd allowed only Tsukishima to use tumbled eagerly from his lips. At 6 years old, you were his biggest hero, the shining center of his universe.
You turned with a sunny smile, kneeling down to his level as he bounded up to you. "Well if it isn't my favorite little monster!" You reached out to ruffle his tousled blonde hair affectionately.
Tsukishima felt his face heat up at the casual contact and endearment, his child-self not yet able to tamp down the wide, unabashed grin of pure joy that broke across his features. Up close, your beauty was staggering - enough to leave him at a loss for words.
"Guess what, nee-san? I scored a whole bunch of points in volleyball practice today!" His small hands cupped together proudly as if cradling something precious.
"That's amazing, Kei!" You reached out to tousle his hair again, shining with genuine pride. The simple praise and affection in your radiant smile made his little heart swell.
"Soon I'll be so good that I can be on the same team as Aki-nii!" He proclaimed boldly. The thought of getting to play on the court alongside you and his older brother filled him with giddy excitement.
Your grin twitched ever so slightly. "I-I can't wait to see that! You'll have to show me some of your awesome moves."
"Kei, stop hogging nee-chan's to yourself." The familiar teasing lilt of Akiteru's voice cut through your moment. Tsukishima's smile dimmed as his older brother sauntered over, all lean muscle and easy confidence even at 11 years old.
You straightened up, attention diverted as Akiteru draped a casual arm around your shoulders. A flare of irrational irritation and something darker - something Tsukishima didn't yet have the emotional vocabulary for - flickered in the young boy's chest as you leaned comfortably into the familiar half-embrace.
In that moment, Akiteru's height, his striking looks, the similarities you two shared down to the very expression on your faces - it all became suddenly, viscerally apparent to Tsukishima's childish perceptions. A vise constricted in his small ribcage as he watched his brother playfully tug on one of your pigtails, laughing at some shared joke while you made a face of mock indignation.
It was like watching the formation of a black hole, inexorably drawing you into its singularity while slowly, agonizingly severing the gravitational tethers that once bound you to Tsukishima's world. The younger brother who had heretofore basked in the warmth of your attentions was now forgotten, cast into the cold outer orbit of your presence.
Akiteru was the sun in your universe now. And deep in the recesses of Tsukishima's fragile psyche, something cracked and began bleeding a venomous darkness into his once-bright worldview.
Over the years, as innocence shed away and Tsukishima's mind became increasingly shrouded in cynicism, that inky blight took root and flourished. What had started as a pure, sunny admiration for his radiant "nee-san" contorted into an obsession - one that had him drinking in every detail of your features, hungrily cataloging them to memory.
The way your brows knit adorably when you frowned at Akiteru. The hint of pink tongue peeking through parted lips as you concentrated with laser-focus during your studies. The soft curves of your thighs flexing as you'd settle next to him on the couch.
Each seemingly innocuous observation was seared into Tsukishima's consciousness, hoarded and endlessly examined in his quieter moments like a dragon with its plundered treasures. You became a fixation - the sole point of equilibrium in his turbulent sea of adolescent turmoil and fragile self-worth.
And with that fixation came the bitter, curdling stain of jealousy and resentment toward his brother whenever Akiteru was the recipient of your unguarded grins, your teasing quips, your casual touches. It should have been Tsukishima on the receiving end of that affection, those tantalizing glimpses into who you truly were behind the facade of pure sunshine.
So he pushed you away, reliable as the turning of the seasons. Each friendly overture, every attempt to draw the younger Tsukishima into your invigorating orbit, was rebuffed with chalky disdain and steadily more acidic barbs. If he couldn't possess the closeness he craved, could not make you solely his, then he would take petty satisfaction in making your interactions as antagonistic and unpleasant as possible.
At least that way, when you inevitably drifted out of their lives for good as you and Akiteru grew up and moved on, the final shreds of Tsukishima's attachment to you would be severed cleanly. His descent into hell would be complete.
By the time Tsukishima was in high school, his once bright and shiny infatuation had fully warped into something darker, grittier - a compulsion that simmered insidiously beneath his carefully crafted ennui.
You still came around occasionally, social spheres intertwined through your unshakable bond with Akiteru. But Tsukishima was no longer the eager, energetic child who fawned over your presence. At 16, he regarded you through lowered lashes and a veil of shuttered disinterest, shoulders hunched in apparent nonchalance.
But beneath that indifferent veneer, he studied you with a new, ravenous sort of hunger. He drank in the gentle swell of your breasts straining against cotton shirts, eyes tracing the feminine flare of your hips before snapping away guiltily. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck as inappropriate thoughts crept incessantly into the shadowy recesses of his mind.
More than anything, Tsukishima longed to provoke a reaction from you any way he could - to thoroughly shatter that serene, put-together front and expose the rawer facets of your spirit that Akiteru was firmly embedded in. He discovered a guilty sort of gratification in needling you, in watching your brows pinch and those full lips purse in displeasure.
"How's the view from that ivory tower, Princess?" The mocking jeer dripped from Tsukishima's lips as he slouched further into the couch cushions. You'd let yourself into the Tsukishima residence as usual, breezing through with a familiar comfort that made something twist viciously in Tsukishima's gut.
You paused in the entryway, shooting him an arch look. "Delightful, as always, thanks for asking. No snide remarks from the misanthropic peanut gallery today?" Your tone was laced with faux sweetness.
Tsukishima scoffed loudly. "That's just the dry wit you've come to despise me for." He knew he should quit while he was ahead, but something diabolical unfurled in his chest at the prospect of getting a genuine rise out of you.
"Though I can't exactly blame you for feeling pissy. It must be rough being a broke college student indebted to my family's charity when Aki-nii takes pity and lets you crash here..."
He trailed off meaningfully, lips curling into a derisive sneer as he took petty delight in the flash of humiliation and anger that flickered across your features. Your cheeks colored furiously, but Tsukishima's sharpened senses zeroed in on the slight part of your lips, the rise and fall of your chest as you struggled to control your breathing.
"You arrogant little shit," you spat, any attempt at civility abandoned. "Is this something you get off on? Tearing people down to make yourself feel better about what a pathetic excuse for a human being you are?"
Inwardly, Tsukishima preened at having successfully riled you up. Your scorching anger was so much better than the nonchalant cordiality that came from simply coexisting on the periphery of Akiteru's inner circle. This ire, this passion - it meant you saw him, truly saw the young man he'd become instead of the pesky kid brother to be dismissed.
But what really captivated Tsukishima was the tantalizing flush riding high on your cheekbones, the slightly disheveled state of your hair where you'd no doubt run agitated fingers through it. He wanted to thoroughly dismantle your poise, to unravel you completely and revel in the ravished aftermath.
"Maybe a little," he murmured huskily, molten eyes roving over the swell of your lips and the tempting stretch of your shirt across your chest. "If you're offering something more...stimulating."
The shock and confused hurt that flickered across your features struck Tsukishima like a physical blow, momentarily robbing the breath from his lungs. This wasn't what he'd wanted - to genuinely wound you. He tamped down the nauseated guilt rapidly unfurling in his gut, shoving it into a distant recess of his mind.
This was for the best, he told himself sternly. To wrench himself free of this sick obsession that seemed to deepen and fester with each passing year. If he burned all his bridges, salted the earth of your relationship until only bitter ruin remained, maybe then he could escape the gravitic pull of his compulsion.
But as you whirled on your heel, storming from the Tsukishima household with purposeful strides, a dim part of him knew the truth. There would be no deliverance, no peace from this hell of his own making. He was utterly, inescapably possessed by his fixation on you.
Tsukishima's fists clenched impotently as he watched you go, dark appetite roiling like the churning of a brewing storm barely contained beneath his skin.
In the weeks and months that followed, a new dynamic took shape between you and Tsukishima - one charged with antagonistic tension, rife with unspoken challenge. Like ill-fated celestial bodies, your respective orbits seemed to contract inexorably despite both parties' attempts at maintaining distance.
You still frequented the Tsukishima household with familiar ease, though your interactions with the youngest brother were now clipped and edged with palpable hostility. Tsukishima met you thrust for thrust, deflecting your biting remarks with indolent indifference or firing back with surgical precision to lacerate your composure.
But beneath his sardonic visage, an incessant hunger blazed. He found his gaze lingering on the plush curves of your mouth as you spoke, trailing down the delicious swell of your breasts in quiet moments when you were distracted. Tsukishima's fingers twitched with the phantom urge to reach out and map the lines of your body, to discover whether your skin was truly as soft as it looked.
The tension built to a crescendo one sweltering summer evening. You and Akiteru were lounging in the backyard, lingering over the last dredges of grilled food and chilled beverages. Tsukishima stepped outside, shirtless and barefoot after an ill-timed volleyball practice.
His gaze snagged immediately on the smooth expanse of your bare legs, mercilessly exposed by the tiny athletic shorts you wore. The dusky twilight gloom seemed to sharpen your features into an intoxicating contrast of light and shadow - the pert tip of your nose, those pillowy lips parted on a laugh at something Akiteru murmured.
You caught sight of Tsukishima loitering in the doorway like a silent wraith, amusement morphing into a slight frown. "Don't you have somewhere else to be, beanpole?" The mild insult lacked any genuine venom.
Tsukishima shrugged one loose shoulder lazily. "What, and miss the chance to bask in your radiant presence?" His tone dripped with saccharine insincerity.
You scoffed loudly, a few loose tendrils of hair fluttering against your neck as you shook your head. The motion drew Tsukishima's heated stare like a magnet. He wanted to skim his fingers over that rapidly fluttering pulse point, to discover whether your heart raced with the same forbidden thrill as his own.
"Why don't you give it a rest already?" You sighed in exasperation. "This whole act of yours is exhausting. What will it take for you to stop being such a massive jackass all the time?"
"Hmm maybe if you asked nicely..." Tsukishima purred, taking a few slow, predatory steps closer until he loomed over your seated form. "And demonstrated proper motivation."
The suggestive weight of his words hung thickly in the humid air between you, viscous and suffocating. Tsukishima watched hungrily as your pupils blew wide, lips parting in a silent, shocked inhale. Satisfaction and something darker - something ravenous and scorching - licked through his veins like wildfire.
He drank in the sight of your chest rising and falling shallowly, the pretty flush riding high on your cheekbones while you struggled to mask your rattled reaction behind weak derision.
"Wow, so this is what you've been reduced to? Pathetic."
The scathing assessment ought to have doused the banked embers of Tsukishima's arousal. But he found he craved more - not your disgust, but the visceral emotion that roiled beneath. The sight of you thoroughly unraveled, stripped of your endless veneer of affable composure.
"Nothing pathetic about being honest with my...desires." His voice dropped to a low, gravelly purr. You sucked in a sharp breath when he abruptly crouched next to you, close enough for his warmth to bleed onto your arm.
Tsukishima's eyes roamed insolently over the delicate hollow of your throat, the gentle swell of cleavage peeking from your loose neckline. So close now, he could make out the fluttering pulse beneath your jaw, the subtle outline of your nipples through the thin fabric.
All he had to do was reach out, boldly bridge that searing distance between you, and -
"Kei! That's enough, man." Akiteru's hand landed heavily on Tsukishima's shoulder, shattering the trance. Tsukishima's gaze snapped up to find his brother regarding him with a bemused sort of confusion and concern. You sat beside them, rooted in place and wide-eyed with mingled disbelief and trepidation.
With an inward snarl, Tsukishima shrugged off his brother's grip and straightened to his full height. Outwardly, his expression remained one of languid, hooded disinterest. But inside, a tumultuous storm of thwarted desire, petulant frustration and clawing obsession swirled like a maelstrom preparing to burst its confines.
A muscle in his jaw ticked while he regarded you imperiously. You visibly swallowed under the weight of his stare, hands twisting in your lap. Tsukishima committed every minute detail of your ruffled appearance to scorching memory before spinning on his heel and stalking away without a word.
His skin felt too tight, overhot, as if branding itself permanently with the impression of this moment - of how badly he had shattered the fragile bounds of propriety in his reckless pursuit of your undoing. There would be no coming back from this, no soothing balm of remedied boundaries or reassurances of indifference.
Tsukishima had allowed the darkness to breach its subterranean chambers and spill slobberingly into the piercing light of day. And some primal, depraved part of himself delighted in it.
In the crucible of late adolescence, any restraint Tsukishima once possessed over his baser urges and obtrusive thoughts withered away. Your presence had become an obsession unfurled, a compulsion to be sated at all costs - dignity and propriety be damned.
He sought you out like a man possessed, intentionally insinuating himself into situations where your paths would cross no matter how tenuous the pretext. Tsukishima drank in every searing detail of your features with ravenous focus, cataloging each fitful breath and bitten-off gasp whenever his words or proximity provoked a reaction.
Your relationships with Akiteru strained under the weight of Tsukishima's unchecked antagonism. Undaunted, he would needle you relentlessly, slinging barbs and salacious insinuations with the cold precision of a sniper's rifle until your composure splintered.
The way your nostrils flared when you struggled to reign in your temper, or the rapid flutter of your pulse hammering beneath the delicate hollow of your throat - each detail was seared into Tsukishima's consciousness and savored in the quiet, sweltering moments when he was alone.
At eighteen, the full flush of adulthood brought with it a new,remorseless intensity to Tsukishima's unhealthy fixation. No longer content to merely bask in your flustered unraveling, he ached to systematically dismantle every aspect of your self-restraint until you were left debauched and keening against him, rational mind whited out by unbearable pleasure.
One evening, you'd come over to collect some belongings in preparation for moving out. Tsukishima emerged from the stifling humidity of his bedroom, towel slung low on his lean hips, to find you rummaging through a box of miscellany.
His calloused fingers clenched spasmodically at his sides as you bent at the waist, shapely backside straining against form-fitting denim as you rifled through the clutter. Tsukishima's mouth went dry as cotton, eyes tracing the gentle inward curve of your spine before snapping instinctively to the generous swell of your ass.
An inarticulate grunt forced its way past his frozen lips before he could think better of it. You jolted upright, whirling to face him with wide, startled eyes and parted lips. Dimly, Tsukishima registered the flush that creeped over your cheekbones as you processed his state of undress, gaze skating unsubtly over the sculpted planes of his abdomen before guiltily averting.
"Uh, didn't realize you were...around," you mumbled, suddenly flustered in a way he found utterly captivating. Tsukishima's blood thrummed with smoldering satisfaction at having thrown you off-balance so thoroughly with just his physical presence.
His signature smirk was firmly back in place as he oh-so-casually padded closer, movements loose and predatory. "My apologies, I'll be sure to send the butler with my arrival announcements next time."
You scowled at the mocking jibe, seeming to regain some semblance of equilibrium...until Tsukishima's fingertips ghosted over the dip of your waist in passing. A harsh, shuddering inhale stuttered through your lips at the fleeting contact, gaze snapping up to lock with his. The weight of his heavy-lidded stare, dark and inscrutable, made you visibly swallow.
"S-stop looking at me like that, you creep," you stammered, curling inward defensively as you clutched the forgotten box to your midriff.
Tsukishima hummed, a low rumbling purr of a sound as he boldly sidestepped until the solid wall of his chest grazed your shoulder. You sucked in a sharp breath, freezing in place as he leaned down until his mouth was a hairsbreadth from your ear. He could smell the clean, faintly floral scent of your shampoo, feel the heated puff of your unsteady breathing fanning over his collarbones.
"Looking at you how, exactly?" Tsukishima murmured, allowing a teasing lilt to bleed into each velvet syllable. He turned his head a fraction, letting his lips brush ever-so-lightly against the curved shell of your ear as he spoke. Gratification sang through his blood as you shivered involuntarily against him.
"Like the pathetic, desperate thing you are, gawking at me like a piece of meat," you shot back in a threadbare tone that lacked any genuine conviction.
A rasping chuckle rattled from Tsukishima's chest in response. With agonizing slowness, he shifted until his nose skimmed over the rapid pulse fluttering just beneath your jaw - until his lips hovered a scant hairsbreadth from yours, so close he could feel your shallow, trembling exhalations ghosting over them.
"And what if I was?" he breathed, voice pitched low enough to rasp like gravel in his throat. "What if I told you how badly I want to - "
You cut him off with a strangled noise, abruptly shoving him away with an uncoordinated flail of limbs and putting a few feet of distance between you. Your expression twisted into one of mingled outrage and bewilderment.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Kei!?" You hissed acidicly, clutching the forgotten box closer like a shield as you struggled to recapture an authoritative tone. "Was this some kind of twisted game to you? Some fucked up power play to make me uncomfortable?"
Tsukishima simply stared back impassively, expression a carefully curated mask of nonchalant indifference despite the molten churn of need and thwarted yearning simmering like a banked fire in his veins. His tongue traced the plush swell of his lower lip slowly, greedily snagging on the taste of your floral shampoo still clinging to his senses.
With steady, unhurried movements, he thumbed the towel slung low on his hips, drawing your gaze like a magnet to the subtle shift of musculature in his lower abdomen. Your breath audibly hitched, gaze darkening with a mixture of reproach and that achingly familiar spark of restrained want.
"Does acting coy and clueless really work for anyone?" He rumbled at last, deep timbre threaded with enough blatant suggestion to stain the air between you a virulent shade of crimson. "I don't play games... When I say I want something, I pursue it with a singular, ruthless focus."
He held your turbulent gaze steadily, letting the full weight of his obsession - his absolute compulsion towards you - resonate in the pulsing silence. Your shuddering inhale echoed like a thunderclap before you seemed to rally some semblance of inner fortitude.
"You...you're disgusting," you rasped, retreating a few more stumbling paces towards the door. But the revulsion in your tone felt brittle, a flimsy construct struggling against the rip tide of molten tension steadily encroaching like a noxious vapor.
Tsukishima remained rooted, expression one of glacial detachment as he regarded you steadily. Something like pain flickered across your features before being swiftly smothered behind a mask of bland affront. With a final, ricocheting glance of...something Tsukishima couldn't decipher, you whirled on your heel and fled.
Only once the thud of the front door slamming echoed through the tense stillness did the younger Tsukishima exhale a low, ragged breath. His fingers unclenched from their white-knuckled grip on the towel as a menagerie of roiling emotion - bitter frustration, banked exhilaration, the lingering echoes of soul-searing obsession - seeped into the arid recesses of his psyche.
No matter how explosive the collision when your respective orbits intersected, Tsukishima knew he was caught in the inexorable pull of your gravity well. It was only a matter of time before he went spinning, wildly out of control, and dragged you down with him into the pitch black singularity of his fixation.
The weeks and months after your heated encounter were punctuated by stretches of strained silence, broken only by explosive bouts of argument and bitter recrimination that echoed through the Tsukishima household.
You still came around with decreasing frequency, but the casual warmth and easy rapport between you and Akiteru steadily decompressed into stiff, hollowed-out pantomimes of that former intimacy. Akiteru's brow furrowed in terse confusion whenever you and Tsukishima would inevitably gravitate towards each other, only for the atmosphere to buckle and splinter beneath the weight of barbed words and cutting rejoinders.
At the heart of the maelstrom, Tsukishima nursed his resentment and festering want like a raw, throbbing wound - poking and prodding at it in quiet moments until the searing flare of emotion was all he could comprehend. Nothing seemed to slake his hunger; no scalding confrontation or seething silence adequately diluted the sheer, galling compulsion he felt towards you.
It all came cindering down one evening when you appeared unexpectedly on the Tsukishima's doorstep looking resigned and conflicted. Tsukishima answered the door, trademark scowl firmly in place despite the electric frisson of awareness that shot through him upon finding you framed in the entryway.
"Not that I'm trying to impede on your busy schedule of antagonizing literally everyone around you, but I need to talk to Akiteru," you stated in a flat tone devoid of any real bite.
Tsukishima arched a querulous brow in response, gaze skimming insolently over you in a silent assessment. Whatever he found in your bearing must have piqued his interest, because his lips curved into a derisive smirk as he leaned casually against the door frame.
"He's out running some errands with mom earlier. But please, feel free to regale me with whatever trite nonsense is on your mind. I'll be sure to pass along the most banal details to Aki later."
A fractured exhale that might have been a mirthless chuckle ghosted through your lips at his mocking tone. "How gracious of you," you countered in clipped fashion before continuing in a lower register. "Actually, it might be better to talk to you first."
With that opening gambit, you brushed past Tsukishima into the entranceway, shoving down the fissures of unease that bloomed as his intense stare followed your clipped movements. Something about the air of grim resolution you carried set his nerves jangling faintly, a harbinger of upheaval to come.
You turned to face Tsukishima fully once inside, squaring your shoulders as if bracing for impact. He regarded you with poorly veiled curiosity despite the mask of sardonic aloofness he attempted to maintain.
"Well?" He prompted after a protracted moment of tense silence. "Do go on and enlighten me with whatever banalities have you seeking an audience."
You worried your lower lip for a beat, gaze skittering away from the weight of his stare before marshaling your resolve with a fortifying breath. When you spoke, the words emerged in a tumultuous rush.
"I'm leaving soon. Transferring to a university across the country for my Master's program." Your fingers twisted together fretfully. "Which means I won't be around much anymore to...whatever this is between us."
Tsukishima felt his breath stall in his chest as the implications galvanized in his mind. Leaving. Putting an entire continent's distance between your respective orbits. The prospect prompted a visceral spike of simultaneous relief and soul-rending loss that curdled like overspent adrenaline in his veins.
Perhaps sensing his unraveling composure, you barreled forward in a preemptive strike. "Look, I'm not naive enough to pretend there isn't...tension, or whatever you want to call it, between us. But it's gotten out of hand, Kei. It's unhealthy." You exhaled a shaky breath, expression broadcasting your internal discord. "I think some permanent distance might be what we both need to finally move past...this."
Your final syllables hung heavily between you, weighted with years of fraught history and the specter of unvoiced emotion. Tsukishima groped inwardly for some lifeline or anchoring retort, but his usually glib tongue felt expansively mired. For once, his vaunted intellect offered no scorching rebuttals or snide deflections - only a viscous, thunderous silence ringing with unspoken implication.
And in that sweeping void, the truth he'd spent the better half of a decade submerging beneath scathing petulance and obsessive fixation finally ruptured to the surface in a scalding torrent.
"You think I want this?" His voice emerged in a hoarse snarl edged with raw desperation. You started back half a step at the sheer venom saturating his tone, lips parting on an unvoiced query. But Tsukishima pressed forward inexorably.
"This maddening, inescapable compulsion that's haunted me since I was just a stupid kid? You honestly believe I asked for this relentless torment, this pathetic obsession that swallows every other facet of who I am?"
He was dimly aware of his harsh breathing punctuating each bitten-off phrase, of the erratic pulsing of his heartbeat like bellows stoking banked embers into a conflagration. But the self-disgust, the seething bitterness and all-consuming want roared to the forefront with cataclysmic force as he at last locked eyes with you fully.
"I didn't choose to become consumed by you!" He rasped, voice descending to a guttural rasp that seemed to reverberate through the scorched air between you. "To have every petty interaction, every insignificant encounter burned into my consciousness from the moment you seared your way into my existence!"
You gaped at him, lips shaping soundless words as turmoil washed across your features - quickly subsumed beneath burgeoning waves of pity and dawning comprehension. The aborted syllables shriveled on your tongue as he advanced a step, then another, until the static charge of simmering tension crackled like lightning just before the strike.
Your breath left you in a shuddering exhale as he towered over you, close enough now that the tangled knot of your respective scents - sweat and clean soap and the powdery hint of detergent - coalesced into an intoxicating amalgam. Close enough to make out the minute tremors wracking your frame as adrenaline flooded both your systems.
"You think I wanted this?" Tsukishima breathed again, voice fracturing on the lash as remorse and self-loathing parted like a rent veil to fully expose the caustic truth blistering through his veins. "To dissect and crave every infinitesimal part of you until the hunger gnawed like pestilence through my skin?"
In the slanted beams of dying sunshine filtering through the window, your complexion looked sallow and drawn - a sickly grey pallor that only threw the high sweep of your cheekbones and the plump bow of your lips into sharper relief. Gooseflesh rippled over the exposed canvas of your forearms as you stared back at Tsukishima, all bravado and derision bled dry as the weight of comprehension finally settled fully.
In that splintered tableau of anguish and reluctant revelation frozen between you, Tsukishima's entire universe whited out into the jagged fissures of truth he could no longer contain.
He closed the final, harrowing distance in a singular, insistent movement - stopping just shy of collision when you sucked in a panicked breath at his abrupt proximity. His chest rasped against yours with each frantic inhale as you pinned him with a look of pure, visceral trepidation.
But Tsukishima was beyond caring as realization cleaved through his consciousness like a ruinous storm finally breaking. For once, he eschewed any artifice of composure in favor of allowing the distillation of his absolute fixation to bleed freely into the roiling heat between your bodies.
"I don't want this," he reiterated, keen gaze burning paths over the rapid flutter of your pulse hammering beneath your jaw. "But I can no more resist the pull of you than a man can resist the inevitability of his own annihilation."
The words hung like a blasphemous mantra in the hair's breadth of electrified space separating your lips. Tsukishima felt the molten slide of your exhale feathering over the curve of his mouth as his name ghosted out in a sibilant whisper.
"Kei, I - "
Whatever feeble objection you may have offered lodged like shrapnel in your larynx as his hand lifted of its own volition. Calloused fingertips ghosted a blistering path from the graceful column of your throat, over the racing cadence of your pulse point, until coming to rest like a branding iron cupping the vulnerable hinges of your jaw.
You went preternaturally still, body locked in a statue's rigor as every molecule of air ionized between you like the portentous ether before a thermonuclear detonation. Perhaps sensing his fleeting window of opportunity, Tsukishima acted before what little remained of his sanity eroded completely.
In a movement more akin to an eclipse than any earthly burst of momentum, he slanted his mouth over yours - searing and inescapable as the electromagnetic shockwave announcing imminent oblivion. The last vestiges of his restraint and composure finally ruptured with the full-bodied jolt that lanced through him upon that first, cataclysmic point of contact.
This was it - the ruination of everything, the scorched-earth capitulation to his darkest compulsions and obsessive fixation. Years' worth of repressed hunger and bitter self-loathing and unbearable yearning finally sublimating into sheer, harrowing rapture as your lips parted compliantly beneath Tsukishima's insistent coaxing.
He drank in your shuddering gasp like a drowning man gulping blessed oxygen. The tang of salt and desperation mingled on his tongue as he surged deeper, robbed of any coherent thought save the all-encompassing fervor singeing every nerve ending. He mapped the slick, velvety recesses of your mouth with relentless focus for every precious second you allowed him this profane indulgence.
But all too soon, reality came slamming back into sickening clarity as you abruptly, vehemently wrenched yourself free. Pain lanced white-hot through Tsukishima's skull as his lower back impacted the wall in recoil from the force of your shove. He stood hunched and winded from the shock of impact for several disorienting heartbeats before raising his gaze to you.
You shook like a birch sapling in a gale, one hand pressed to your ravaged lips as if to trap the echoes of Tsukishima's rapacious violation against them. Anguish, outrage, confusion - a maelstrom of emotion held sway on your features before congealing into the ravaged mask of someone whose trust had been profoundly broken.
"I have to go," you bit out tremulously past the fingers still branding your mouth. Before Tsukishima could summon any articulation or plea for reprieve, you whirled on your heel and lurched towards the exit.
"Don't..." The feeble utterance strangled out of him, little more than a ghoul's rasp that you either didn't hear or chose to ignore. And then you were gone, the sound of the front door ricocheting shut echoing like the clanging finality of prison doors sealing fatefully behind you.
Tsukishima remained rooted and winded in the aftermath of his unraveling for an interminable stretch - wheezing agonized breaths past the anguished cataract of shredded self-control and remorse. When he finally unfurled from his hunched posture enough to properly look around, it was as if he were perceiving the world through an entirely new cosmological lens.
Where before every surface and familiar trapping of his childhood home had functioned as a mnemonic trigger for past memories of you, a radiant fixture seared into every insignificant crevice, it now produced only the ghostly echoes of that escalating tension finally reaching its terminal singularity.
The looming implosion of their relationship - of that inextricable tether binding him soul-deep to you - had officially commenced. And not through any external force, but by the sheer gravitational lensing produced by his own singularly depraved need to pull you into his orbit no matter the cost.
In that hollowing moment of ruination, Tsukishima's throat constricted around the cloying bite of truth and inevitability. There would be no salvaging this, no prospect of atonement or reconciliation now that the scorched, irradiated husk of his obsession lay in ruinous clarity before him.
You would leave - escape this harrowing gravity well before he could irrevocably drag you down into the depthless, all-consuming singularity of his fixation. And he would remain endlessly, inescapably haunted by the inextricable warp of your absence seared into the fabric of his existence.
Hell, he realized with harrowing finality, was not an external condition to transcend - but an inward, eternal torment wrought by his own hand and irredeemable actions.
a few years later
The rivulets of condensation trickling down the passenger window seemed to coalesce into the murky portent of gathering storm clouds on the horizon as Tsukishima stared unseeingly out at the passing scenery. An inexplicable sense of trepidation took root in the pit of his stomach, blossoming insidiously with each passing kilometer marker.
"You've been uncharacteristically brooding this whole ride," Akiteru's voice broke through the weighted silence, tone edged with faint bemusement. "Everything okay, Kei?"
Tsukishima shifted his gaze impassively to meet his brother's reflected in the glass before allowing it to skate away dismissively. "I'm fine. Just wondering why this desperately needed to happen on such short notice."
A humorless scoff filtered from the driver's seat. "Because you're the one who waited until practically the last minute to find housing for your graduate program starting in a few weeks."
A reasonable response, logically speaking. But Tsukishima's unease stemmed from a deeper wellspring of dread that had plagued him since Akiteru first proposed this impromptu "solution" to his living situation.
"I'm not an idiot, Aki," he groused, unable to completely disguise the petulance that crept into his inflection. "There's got to be more to this than some random person suddenly needing a roommate."
His brother was uncharacteristically silent for a protracted beats before releasing a longsuffering sigh. "Look, I know things have been...complicated, between you two - "
The words sparked like a flint igniting tinder in Tsukishima's psyche. His gaze snapped back to Akiteru, heavy-lidded eyes narrowing imperceptibly as comprehension crystallized with sinking inevitability. Of course it was you. It was always, inextricably you - forever the fixed point around which the most harrowing, inescapable forces in their universe orbited.
"Pull over," he bit out in a deceptively even tone that did nothing to mask the torrent of emotion swiftly cresting within him. His caustic rejoinder clearly took Akiteru by surprise, because his brother's brows pulled together in transparent confusion as they passed beneath the haloed sphere of a streetlamp.
"What? Kei, we're almost - "
"I said pull the fucking car over," Tsukishima repeated with much more heat saturating his words this time. The livid desperation gripping his chest precluded any coherent thought beyond the overwhelming urge to escape the increasingly claustrophobic confines of the vehicle before he succumbed to the panic swiftly metastasizing beneath his sternum.
To his credit, Akiteru must have sensed the urgency undergirding Tsukishima's insistence, because he tersely maneuvered them into the nearest vacant parking lot without further protest. No sooner had the gearshift clunked into park than Tsukishima burst from the car with enough force to make it shudder precariously in his wake.
The brisk night air did little to abate the asphyxiating sense of entrapment and dissonant realization that rolled over him in waves. Tsukishima paced several steps away, calloused fingers digging sharpened grooves into his already disheveled hair as he struggled to articulate the discordant maelstrom swirling through his mind.
"You can't honestly expect me to do this, Aki." He didn't mean for the words to emerge sounding quite so plaintive, tinged with the undercurrents of raw vulnerability he normally kept so rigorously submerged. An image of you, forever etched into Tsukishima's consciousness like a holy relic emblazoned on the backs of his eyelids, loomed in stark relief.
"I know things ended...poorly between you two back then," Akiteru ventured cautiously as he too emerged from the vehicle, lines of consternation creasing his brow. "But it's been years, Kei. You both could probably use some closure, or at least the chance to bury the past like rational ad- "
"Closure?" The syllable detonated from Tsukishima's lips in a strangled scoff edged with raw derision. He whirled to face his brother fully, not caring if the naked anguish he normally kept so ruthlessly restrained bled through now. Distantly, he registered his fingers trembling - an outward manifestation of the destabilizing architecture of his composure crumbling away.
"What part of being fatally obsessed and wanting to fucking ravish someone from the moment you first laid eyes on them screams 'rational adult' to you, Aki?" The words tasted like razors on his tongue in their excoriation, laid bare for the first time without artifice or deflection.
Akiteru's expression slackened with muted shock, lips shaping a soundless 'oh' as realization colored the slates of his comprehension with new, damning clarity. The heavy veil of silence suspended between them carried the portentous finality of a theater hush before the curtain rose on tragedy's climax.
When Akiteru finally mustered the wherewithal to respond, his tone was carefully modulated in the same hushed cadences one might use to coax a wounded animal free of its den. "I didn't...know it went that deep for you, Kei. That it evolved into something so...unhealthy."
Tsukishima shook his head minutely, an economic expenditure of movement that still somehow managed to convey the crushing weight of his despair and resignation. Of course Akiteru wouldn't have guessed at the true, festering depths of his fixation during those turbulent years of adolescence muddled by petulance and barely-leashed antagonism.
Tsukishima had gone to great lengths to camouflage the searing compulsion and unreality, burying it beneath cloaking layers of indifference and hostility. Even once he'd gained enough self-awareness to recognize the insidious obsession eating away at his faculties, he ruthlessly stifled and rationalized it - ruthlessly cauterizing those ragged, furtively vulnerable admissions of soul-deep need and unholy yearning behind rictus masks of disdain.
"Unhealthy doesn't even cover it," he rasped at last, unable to stifle his guttural scoff of mordant incredulity. "What I felt - what I still feel..." The admission emerged in a ragged exhale, abraded by the gravel layered across each vowel. His gaze skated away from Akiteru's stunned regard, instead fixing somewhere in the middle distance as his mind's eye painted the indelible, endlessly revisited portrait of your memory in aching clarity.
"It's like being cursed with an endless, unquenchable thirst," Tsukishima forced himself to continue in a brittle tone stripped of any artifice or evasion. "No matter how much you drink or how temporarily sated you become, your throat just opens up in new cracks and fissures, parched and ravenous as the desert itself."
His brother absorbed the hollowed confession in pronounced, weighty silence. Even in his periphery, Tsukishima noted the faint motions as Akiteru's throat struggled uselessly to formulate a reasonable response to such harrowing unvarnished truth. Finally, a hoarse utterance punctured the crackling stillness stretched taut between them:
"You never told me it was like that for you. That your...feelings were so intense."
The naked concern and regret woven through his brother's voice, like fine threads desperately stitching together the tattered, guttering remains of some newly revealed tragedy, prompted an unexpected stir of bitter derision to buoy Tsukishima's chest.
An acrid, joyless laugh spilled from his lips before he could think better of it, the pique of disparate emotion hardening the consonants until the abrasion rasped like an open wound. "How could I tell anyone?" He threw back, indelicate challenge glinting like shards of deadly silica in his stare. "Can you even begin to imagine confessing to feeling that...wretched hunger for your own brother's best friend?"
Akiteru flinched, the minute compression of his features accompanied by the aborted twitch of his fingers that clearly betrayed the instinctive urge to reach out instinctively - to attempt triage on the gaping disrepair laid bare before him. Tsukishima could practically envision the discordant static of thoughts and impulses rattling chaotically through his brother's psyche, could track the struggle inherent as Akiteru processed the full scope of Tsukishima's torrid, compulsive fixation.
The silence that echoed in the pause yawned between them like the oppressive density of a singularity, heavy with inexorable pull and scorching implication in equal measure. At last, Akiteru seemed to settle on his next overture, drawing forth all his faculties of earnest persuasion and fraternal care as he girded himself to proceed.
"Kei...I don't think I'll ever fully understand the scope or circumstances that created such intensity for you," he began carefully, each word acutely shaped with empathetic weight. "No one can rationalize compulsions like that born of unchecked emotion and...improper attachment pathways in the psyche."
Tsukishima narrowed his eyes against his brother's solemn, imploring stare, suddenly wary of where this speech seemed destined based on the familiar undulating cadences of Akiteru attempting to arbitrate harsh truths. But rather than demur or equivocate, his older brother pressed on unflinchingly.
"But this inability to let go, to find peace or detachment from those unbalanced impulses...it's only going to keep poisoning you, Kei. Destroying you and anyone else who gets caught in the blast radius, over and over in an endless cycle of turmoil."
A hairline crack spiderwebbed across Tsukishima's composure as the implication of his brother's words registered with the ruthless precision of a killing stroke. He felt his jaw flex in minute increments, a ticking chronometercharting the encroaching undertow of emotion threatening to drag him beneath its roiling surface once more.
"Are you suggesting," he began with meticulous slowness, tonnage of rebuke held in tense abeyance, "that I force myself back into her orbit just so I can...what? Overcome this, like some pathetic addict going cold turkey?"
Akiteru exhaled a sound that may have been a mirthless chuckle. "When you put it like that, it sounds-"
"Delusional? Self-destructive, even?" Tsukishima supplied archly, unable to completely mask the caustic edge of anger galvanizing beneath his sternum like a corrosive malignancy. "All I would accomplish is opening those fissures anew, Aki. Awakening that...relentless obsession all over again while offering up her peace of mind as collateral damage on the altar of my depravity."
Despite Tsukishima's raw confession about the depths of his fixation on you, Akiteru remained resolute.
"I hear what you're saying, Kei. Truly, I do," he said, squeezing Tsukishima's shoulder with a heaviness that belied the gravity of his next words. "But avoiding this situation, running from those compulsions...it's only going to leave you trapped forever."
Tsukishima opened his mouth to protest, rebuke already sharpened on his tongue. But Akiteru raised his hand to forestall the objection.
"You need to face this head-on. Confront those feelings, that obsession, in a healthy, controlled way - with me by your side." His brother's gaze burned with fierce conviction. "It's the only path forward to finally finding peace, Kei. You've been in this gravity well of torment for too damn long."
A hollowed pause stretched between them as Akiteru's decree hung suspended - a lifeline and tether all at once. Tsukishima felt it resonate through his very marrow, a tremulous clarion call commodified to the fractured, haunted planes of his psyche.
Finally, after what felt like an interminable, sanity-eroding instant, he managed a tight nod of grim acquiescence.
"Alright," he agreed in a rasp that scorched the tender abraded tissues of his throat. "I'll do it your way, Aki. For now..."
The last two words hovered replete with unspoken menace and conflict yet to come. But Akiteru's brilliant answering smile blazed like a gaseous nebula being kindled to stellar birth, bright with profound gratitude and steadfast determination.
"That's all I can ask, little brother. One step at a time."
The climb up the apartment building's stairs felt interminable, each step weighted with steadily mounting trepidation. Tsukishima couldn't deny the queasy roil of apprehension in his gut as he ascended behind Akiteru towards your door.
It had been years - years spent meticulously constructing psychic barricades and fortifying his defenses against the reckless undertow of obsession that had once threatened to drown him utterly. Yet now, at his brother's cajoling insistence, Tsukishima found himself being towed inexorably back towards the gravitational singularity of his darkest compulsions.
"You don't have to look so grim," Akiteru quipped over his shoulder, either sensing Tsukishima's disquiet or simply attempting to buoy the strained atmosphere. "This is a good thing, remember? A chance to finally exorcise those demons."
Tsukishima responded with a noncommittal grunt, gaze fixed forwards as they reached the landing. He could have gone his entire life without needing to "exorcise" the all-consuming fixation that had warped and contorted his psyche for so long. Better to plaster over those gaping psychic wounds and let them scar in isolation than to recklessly reopen them.
But Akiteru was nothing if not relentlessly optimistic about reshaping Tsukishima's mindset on this. His brother knocked briskly against the nondescript apartment door, then turned to flash an encouraging smile as the muffled sound of footsteps approached from within.
Tsukishima felt his jaw tense automatically as the deadbolt rattled and the door swung inward. And there you were, steadying presence and radiant energy blazing into view as if no time at all had passed.
It was like a surgically precise incision scoring through the meticulously maintained scar tissue encapsulating Tsukishima's obsession - disturbing its deceptive quiescence and allowing the tender, inflamed rawness to bleed freely once more. He drank in every nuance of your familiar features with a desperation bordering on offensive, hungrily cataloging the changes brought by the years apart.
Your eyes widened momentarily upon catching sight of him lingering behind Akiteru. Tsukishima watched as you visibly startled, then attempted to mask the reaction behind a perfunctory smile that didn't quite reach the shuttered wariness lurking in your gaze.
"Akiteru, hi! I wasn't expecting..." You trailed off, throwing a sidelong glance towards Tsukishima that felt like the audible screech of brakes on pavement. An awkward pause suspended between you all before his brother jumped into the breach.
"Yeah, sorry for springing this on you a bit last minute," Akiteru began amiably, using the tone of gentle persuasiveness that came so naturally. "There were some snags with Kei's living arrangements for school. I mentioned your place had an extra room, and, well..."
Tsukishima kept his expression carefully blanked as you pivoted towards him fully, searching his facade for any tells or clues. He could practicably sense the disquiet radiating from you in dense clusters, even diluted through years of separation and whatever attempts at cordiality still persisted between you.
"I see..." You said at length, letting the words unspool like a weighted sounding line dropped into fathomless depths. "Well, I suppose if it's not an imposition..."
"Of course not!" Akiteru assured with forced brightness, clearly sensing the hairline fractures spiderwebbing through the atmosphere. "Kei will be on his best behavior, I promise."
The subtle cant of your brow conveyed skepticism, but you regrouped with remarkable poise by pulling the door open wider in mute invitation.
"I'll just get the spare room ready then," you offered, tempering your tone to a bland neutrality that was somehow even more disquieting.
Tsukishima felt your sidelong stare pierce him like sharpened needlepoints as you brushed past towards the interior of the apartment. Despite his best efforts at emotional insularity, self-preservation screamed at him to hold your assessing gaze - to not flinch or compound the smoldering unease with avoidance.
In that fractional span before you turned away fully, Tsukishima saw it - the wariness, the quicksilver flash of emotions strained behind every pragmatic overture of civility. A panged, phantom echo of their adolescence and the caustic hostility that had ultimately incinerated any remaining bonds between you into smoldering ruin.
He sensed the first fissures splintering across the foundation of his defenses, hairline openings that would steadily widen and coalesce with every subsequent reunion with you. Already, like forgotten muscle memories rousing from dormancy, the compulsions were stirring within Tsukishima, stretching their atrophied wings against the constraints that had rendered them inert.
Akiteru clasped his shoulder as you retreated deeper inside, expression caught in that carefully modulated balance of reassurance and solemnity. A cursory exchange of platitudes untangled between the two brothers, words devoid of real meaning like dandelion gauze catching briefly on a razor's edge before fraying away into obscurity.
Tsukishima only managed a tight nod, the barely perceptible incline of his chin feeling like an already defeated concession and prelude to the coming cataclysm years in the making.
No matter how deep he attempted to bury them, how diligently he maintained those rigorous disciplines of restraint, the gravitational lensing distorting every aspect of his existence remained centered upon the implacable starseed of his fixation.
On you.
The first few weeks of cohabiting with you were...an exercise in calculated restraint for Tsukishima. A precarious dance of aptly sidestepping any situation that might rekindle the long-banked embers of his obsession into roaring new life.
He awoke each morning steeling himself against the temptations that awaited - the casual intimacies of sharing living space that rapidly shed their innocuous veneers to reveal newer, more pernicious labyrinths to navigate. Like the first faint wisps of your shampoo fragrance still clinging to the bathroom at dawn, inviting intrusive recollections of you damp and flushed from the shower's steam...or the maddening distraction of your sleep-tousled form passing by on the way to the kitchen as he tried vainly to focus on dissertation notes.
Small moments, inconsequential in their individual pacing. But they chipped away at Tsukishima's meticulously maintained indifference with every subsequent occurrence, eroding the opaque barriers sheltering him from his compulsions' caustic undertow.
You seemed equally ill-at-ease those first few weeks despite your courteous overtures and model-roommate behavior. An overeager brightness laced your casual greetings, punctuated by halting silences and sidelong glances that implied a persistent reserve layered beneath the arduous task of reacquainting as something adjacent to strangers.
But gradually, as the acrid sting of unfamiliarity dispersed like the lingering vapors in a cleared room, your reflexive masks of propriety and decorum towards one another began unraveling into more familiar patterns of behavior.
The loaded pauses became occupied by increasingly barbed small talk, snips of snide commentary and sardonic rejoinders clearly dredged from the muscle memories of your contentious adolescent rapports. Like wading out into a cristal-clear mountain lake, the vanguards of that old dynamic seemed to buoy you both further into familiar depths...even as the potential for something more turbulent and forceful churned in unknowable abyssal provinces.
The first time you outright argued over something utterly trivial - whether Tsukishima had intentionally swapped out all the TV's inputs just to be contrarian - it was like a sluice gate opening. A slipstream through which the long-sublimated currents of antagonism and pithy one-upmanship that had once characterized your relationship came rushing back in a cathartic torrent.
"- honest to god, it's like you derive sustenance from being an obnoxious ass sometimes," you groused heatedly from the opposite end of the sofa. The furrow of your brow and the slight flush riding high on your cheekbones lent your exasperation an intoxicating sort of vigor. "Is that superiority complex really so insatiable, or are you just doing it to get a rise out of me at this point?"
Tsukishima feigned an air of indolent nonchalance, lips twitching with the effort of containing his smirk as you ranted. Truthfully, he'd gone and rearranged the TV inputs on a whim, knowing it would eventually nettle you into this sort of delicious, heated reaction. He lived for moments like these - when the full force of your temper and spirited indignation were focused solely on him and he could bask, shameless and vampiric, in the raw energy of your presence.
"Hmm, could be a little from Column A, a little from Column B," he replied at length, letting his tone drip with layered provocation like honey from a cone. "I'll leave it up to your wildest fantasies and projections to unpack my motivations, though.."
The loaded suggestion woven through his flippant aside didn't go unnoticed. You scoffed loudly, rolling your eyes in a gesture of feigned disgust that couldn't quite disguise the full-bodied jolt his words produced. "And there's the charm I haven't missed in the slightest..."
Tsukishima's answering smirk took on an undisguised edge of satisfaction at having successfully thrown you off-kilter - even if only by a hair. "If you're hoping for an apology about the inputs, I have to disappoint. Remorse was one of the first things beaten out of me in childhood."
Your lips pressed into a mulish line, no doubt biting back a retort as Tsukishima's vaguely suggestive flirting ratcheted the tension up another notch. Good - let that uncertainty and trepidation creep in until he thoroughly occupied the forefront of your thoughts, just as you had for him all this time.
There was a gratifying sort of power in keeping you baited like this, angling to provoke that endearingly annoyed blustering that allowed Tsukishima to indulge his fixation under the guise of innocuous needling. Even better when you retaliated in kind, matching acidic wit for acidic wit until the furious sparring devolved into decidedly murkier waters.
The first time he upped the ante physically - casually invading your personal space to emphasize a point or provoking distractingly intimate contact as punctuation to a biting remark - you seemed to freeze up like a computer awaiting instructions. Tsukishima took perverse delight in watching your facial features cycle through a litany of conflicting micro-expressions: surprise, uncertainty, mild indignation, and a grudging hint of thrill.
This close, he could see the miniscule dilation of your pupils, the flutter of your pulse hammering beneath the vulnerable hollow of your throat as you battled not to betray the effect his proximity elicited. The warm, intoxicating blend of your natural scent combined with the ephemeral tang of clean sweat and fabric softener made Tsukishima's head swim.
"You're awfully quiet all of a sudden," he practically purred once the loaded tableau stretched on a beat too long. "No comeback about inappropriate boundaries, or overcompensating for a newly realized size deficiency?"
That managed to shake you from your overwrought trance, hackles rising as a full-body flush crept over your features. "You're vile," you spat in a commendable approximation of disgust as you recoiled from the intimate encroachment on your space.
But Tsukishima had seen the fracture lines, caught the stuttered nervous exhale betraying that whisper of atavistic response you fought so hard to suppress. And in that tiny erosion of your defenses, he glimpsed the horizon of new possibilities - an expanding frontier of ways to needle past your limitations and composure until you lay utterly exposed before him.
The simmering undercurrents of tension amplified dramatically in the weeks after that initial thawing of your antagonistic rapport. Each ensuing encounter seemed primed to shatter past mere playful banter and provocative innuendo, splintering into something rawer and electrifyingly unsafe.
Tsukishima leaned harder into the invasive little touches and suggestive asides, each one calculated to unnerve you further and provoke increasingly flustered reactions. Under the guise of sardonic indifference, he would casually ghost his fingertips over the bare nape of your neck while sliding past you in narrow hallways. Or let his hooded gaze linger with maddening emphasis anytime the shifting of your clothing afforded teasing glimpses of skin on display.
You cycled through various strategies to regain equilibrium - deflecting with sarcastic quips, feigning obliviousness, even blunt confrontation. But nothing seemed to deter Tsukishima or raze those escalating shockwaves of tension crackling like atmospheric static in his wake.
He cornered you one evening after you'd spent a long, frustrating day dealing with unruly group project members for one of your seminars. Exhaustion was writ plainly across the tense lines of your shoulders, the slight downturn of your lips as you shrugged out of your jacket and leaned heavily against the wall.
"Long day playing shepherdess to the intellectually insolvent masses?" Tsukishima's voice rolled smooth as velvet from the nearby shadows. You jolted upright with a stifled gasp, clearly not having registered his presence lurking in the dimness of the hallway.
"Fuck, you scared me..." you huffed out a shaky breath, willing your heartrate to descend from its panicked spike as Tsukishima's silhouette peeled away from the shadows with predatory grace.
"My apologies." The words dripped with heavy insincere as he came to lean against the wall a scant few inches away. Even in the low lighting, you could make out the glinting suggestiveness in his heavy-lidded eyes. "I'll be sure to make more noise announcing my skulking presence next time."
You tried to snort out a derisive scoff, to wall up behind a facade of irritation at his insinuations and proximity. But your voice emerged with a telling breathlessness that its own betrayal. "Wouldn't want to mistake you for other, more threatening predators lurking around, I suppose..."
Tsukishima loomed subtly closer, the heated undertones of his natural musk and the clean, flinty notes of his body wash filling the scant space between you. "Careful now," he rumbled lowly in a cadence that ricocheted straight down your spine. "I've been told I can be quite...dangerous when riled."
You swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively as your fingers twisted in the fabric of your shirt. "Is that so? Dangerous how, exactly?"
Even in the dimness, you could trace the blatant path of Tsukishima's assessing gaze dropping to your restless fingers. To the subtle flex and release of your throat's musculature as you struggled not to betray the effect his voice and body heat radiating so brazenly had on you.
"Hmm, let's just call it 'volatile' to be on the safe side," he purred at last, drawing fractionally nearer until the proximity blurred the margins between your respective personal spheres. "Volatile enough that toying with it beyond certain limits has...consequences."
Your pulse thundered a rapid staccato against the vulnerable hollow of your throat as the implication settled over you like an intangibly oppressive weight. Edged into the narrow hallway, away from open sightlines, there existed only Tsukishima's radiant, inescapable presence and your rapidly shredding impulse control.
"Is that a threat?" You managed to rasp out at last in a poor mimicry of defiance. His aristocratic features pulled into a slow, dangerous smirk that had your pulse rabbiting anew.
"Just a friendly warning. I'd hate for either of us to get...burned."
The husky promise in his words hung spark-heavy in the charged space separating you. Your chests were nearly grazing with each feverish inhalation, close enough for Tsukishima to detect the staggered pitter-pat of your heartbeat under the sheen of exertion caused by the increasing heat and tension in the hallway.
His gaze locked unwaveringly with yours, relaying the same compulsive hunger searing away every rationalizing fortification in its path. That parallax between the forbidden whims rattling perilously in your respective minds shrinking to an infinitesimal membrane.
All it would take was the slightest breach - one sublimating burst of momentum to rupture that diaphanous film and send you both spinning, irrevocably, into that caustic event horizon of no return. Of surrendering to the inexorable gravities at long last and colliding with all the ruination and ferocious consumption that would entail.
You shifted slightly, the barest incremental adjustment of your balance that caused your thighs to brush ever-so-faintly against Tsukishima's. The contact was ephemeral as a soap bubble's caress...but enough to whiteout his vision with an incandescent flare of hungry provocation. Every nerve ending scoured raw by the suddenelectricity of that inconsequential stimulus.
Your exquisite inhalation shuddered through the infinitesimal margin between you like an orchestrated swell. Tsukishima's focus narrowed inexorably to the subtlest lexicon of reactions rippling across your features - the slight parting of your lips, the minuscule dilation of your pupils as twin mirrors brimming with the same shuddering mixture of curiosity and instinctual warning.
The dam was straining precipitously...here in this dark hallway, away from prying eyes or accountability, nothing remaining but to abandon the final, tattered constraints and give in fully to the smothering, annihilating compulsion singing with celestial rapture through his veins in that instant.
He could end this torturous hunger, slake the parched ache ravening through him for years with the final satiation of union, here and now. Strip away every barrier between you until the truth lay obscenely laid bare—
A door slammed in the distance, auditory shrapnel pulverizing the fragile tension condensed to ruinous density in the hallway. You jolted away from him like repelling magnets, the spell of whatever rapturous gravities had spooled you both towards that event horizon snapping with violent finality.
Tsukishima was left frozen in place, staring at the faint contrail of eddies still dissipating where you'd just occupied the same airspace as him. Molten displeasure curdled in his gut, simultaneously undercut by a parenthetical flicker of relief that neither of you had been the first to tip irrevocably over that precipice.
Not yet, at least. The restless drumbeat of his pulse still hammering with unspent keening to consummate those atavistic, compulsive urges was even clearer than before.
It was only a matter of time before even the most robust remaining safeguards were overcome in the face of such relentless gravities insisting on their conjoining. Tsukishima inhaled a steadying breath, brain already whirring with new strategies to engineer those subsequent pressures and fissures eroding your resistances.
No exit wound or discrete retreat remained to be found. Not when his existence had become this singularly obsessed vigil to bring yours under the sway of its eclipsing gravities once and for all.
The charged frisson of tension only grew more inescapable and stifling with each passing week. Every shared room, corridor, or overlapping routine now seemed to pulse with the same loaded potential - ripe for Tsukishima to manufacture new catalysts in eroding your restraint.
He mapped the contours of your routines and patterns with ritualistic focus, lying in wait like a singular predator isolating the most opportune moments to ambush and provoke reaction. Tsukishima took outrageous gambits to infringe upon your personal space, to lace every innocuous interaction with bristling undercurrents of something darker percolating beneath.
Like the night he prowled into the kitchen as you stood before the stove, idly stirring a simmering pot while swaying subtly to the distant thrum of music filtering in from the living room. You were absorbed in separate headspace, the slight crease between your brows suggesting deep rumination or merely zoning out after a long day.
Which made it all too tempting an opportunity for Tsukishima to disrupt.
He paused briefly just inside the kitchen entryway, drinking in the languid lines of your silhouette awash in the buttery warmth spilling from the oven's interior lights. The subtle but enticing curves of your body were accentuated by the casual lounge pants slung low on your hips and formfitting knit top that shifted hypnotically with each lazy twitch of the wooden spoon clutched in your hand.
Tsukishima's mouth went dry as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders accompanying each measured inhale and exhale. Every fiber of his being hummed in sympathetic frequency with the thrumming bassline pulsing through the floorboards under his bare feet. He advanced with predatory grace until looming just behind you, near enough to feel the heat radiating from your body in delicious contradiction to the sharp, cool tang of your soap and shampoo perfuming the space between you.
You startled faintly when he cleared his throat, the barest perceptible tightening of your shoulders before you slanted him a sidelong look of bemused inquiry. "I thought you were-"
"Out? Avoiding your incessant microwaved atrocities?" Tsukishima supplied archly, voice pitched low enough to thrum deliciously against the sensitive whorls of your inner ear. He took shameless satisfaction in the instinctive tick of tension feathering through your frame at his sudden proximity and realized just how exquisitely you'd underestimated the effect of him deliberately encroaching like this.
"That's not-" you shot back, aggrieved, before visibly swallowing back the retort and exhaling slowly in an attempt at regained composure. " ...I was just getting dinner ready, actually."
"And here I thought you were rehearsing for the 2024 Rhythmic Gymnastics Olympic trials," Tsukishima drawled in a voice gone syrupy with exaggerated innocence. His eyes followed the delectable sway of your hips as you turned back towards the stove, seemingly compelled into motion to diffuse the thick cloud of tension now billowing uncontained around you.
He took the opportunity to insert himself into your orbit, sidling smoothly past and forcing you to abruptly crane backwards to avoid his chest brushing against you. The tips of your wild hair tickled Tsukishima's jaw, sparked with residual static as he blatantly reached up and over your head to trail his splayed fingers along the underside of the upper cabinet.
Your breath went taut and shallow as he leaned in fractionally closer to feign examination of the cabinet's contents, and his heightened senses zeroed in on the way your pulse had begun to judder with uneven rapidity in the graceful column of your throat. So close now, the scintillating radiance of your warmth and presence blotted out all else in a gauzy, magnetizing vignette.
"What was it you were...looking for again?" You breathed out at last, a palpable tremor running through the question that hinted at the effort it took to maintain tenuous control over your composure.
Tsukishima hummed as if just remembering himself, gaze slipping down from the cabinet to burn a path over the delicious slopes and taut musculature of your backside mere inches from where he loomed. His fingertips slid across the underside of the cabinet towards you infinitesimally until he could feel the tingle of your body heat mingling with his own.
"Oh, nothing in particular," he finally purred, allowing the rasp of suggestion to bleed fully into every slurred syllable. "Just...enjoying the view."
You froze as if struck by lightning, every muscle gone taut and arrestingly still as the implication settled over you like an electrified miasma. For several protracted beats, the only movements between you came from your rapidly fluttering pulse hammering beneath the delicate sculpting of your jaw.
Tsukishima drank in the sight greedily, entranced by the way your pupils had blown wide, lips parting infinitesimally to pant out shallow, unsteady breaths. He could almost taste the roiling waves of confusion, arousal and consternation washing off you in acrid, mouthwatering bursts.
Just as he'd begun leaning in fractionally closer - operating on baser muscle intuition to revel in the effect of antagonizing those deepening fault lines in your restraint - the muffled whine of the apartment's front door opening startled you.
You wrenched away from his looming presence so violently that one of the cabinet doors caught your hip, drawing a pained hiss. And just like that, the rapturous bubble you'd both been so deliciously suspended in burst with harsh finality. Tsukishima was left trailing in your abrupt wake as you hurried from the kitchen without a backwards glance.
But he remained transfixed in place a few beats longer, rolling the echoes of adrenaline and electric tension through his consciousness like a saturated sponge. This was far from over - just another advance scout sent out to weaken your fortifications ahead of the next siege of his obsession.
The question was no longer if you would eventually capitulate to its gravitational insistence...but how utterly you'd crumble into decoherence once you at last surrendered control.
The encounters grew increasingly charged in the ensuing days, rippling with an undercurrent of unresolved provocation that threatened to crest at any moment. Tsukishima seemed to find new, increasingly brazen ways to insert himself into your personal space and routines.
Like the morning he ambled into the kitchen still disheveled from sleep - bare feet, rumpled sweatpants hanging precariously low on his lean hips, and a strategically unbuttoned shirt leaving little to the imagination. You were puttering around making coffee, back turned to him as he paused in the entryway to openly admire the view.
"Forgetting something?" His half-awake rasp still managed to drip with unmistakable suggestion. You jolted slightly before twisting to face him, brows raised in muted confusion until realization tinted your cheeks pink.
Tsukishima allowed his hooded gaze to drag pointedly over the thin cotton tank top you'd slept in - tight enough to leave little to the imagination this early before getting properly dressed. More specifically, the distinct absence of a bra's restrictive lines meant your nipples were on tantalizing display beneath the soft knit fabric.
"Didn't realize I needed a permit to be comfortable in my own home," you countered at last, proud of how little your voice wavered under Tsukishima's smoldering perusal.
One auburn brow inched higher in a deliciously provocative arch. "Who said anything about permits?" He let the words hang rife with insouciant curiosity before sauntering fully into the kitchen.
Tsukishima moved with exaggerated nonchalance, almost feline in his studied grace as he brushed past you to snag a mug from the overhead cabinet. You tensed imperceptibly as his arm extended over your shoulder, torso near enough that your bare upper arm grazed his chest through the vee of his unbuttoned shirt.
The friction of skin on skin was ephemeral, easily played off as incidental contact in such close quarters. But Tsukishima knew better - could sense the incongruous shiver feathering through you at his proximity, hear the uptick in your breathing's cadence.
He allowed one fingertip to skim up the curve of your bicep as he withdrew with his purloined mug, not even attempting to mask the smirk playing about his lips as you squirmed away bristling with delightfully ruffled indignation.
"Would you cut that out?" You shot across the kitchen, voice emerging several octaves too high to maintain an effective scolding timbre.
Tsukishima merely hummed a low, noncommittal response around the rim of his purloined mug, eyes already devouring the graceful arch of your back as you attempted to reassert some sense of normalcy by abandoning the coffee preparation.
Subtle as the provocation, he didn't miss the minor shudder transmitted through your frame at the simple rustling of fabric accompanying each minute shift of his stance. Tsukishima knew the effect he was having, could smell the coded pheromones of interest and uncertainty wafting from you in arousing summons.
All it would take was another indecorous push on the margins of propriety between you...
That opportunity arose mere hours later in another seeming happenstance encounter veiled beneath mundane routine. Tsukishima emerged fresh from showering, towel cinched low around his narrow hips while he used a second to scrub roughly at his damp hair. He detected your presence before even turning the corner into the hallway - heard the distinct cadence of your footfalls accompanied by equally familiar frustrated huffs.
By the time he rounded into view, you were distracted with wrestling your oversized laundry basket towards the utility closet at the far end of the hallway. Tsukishima didn't miss a beat, silently advancing to 'assist' without preamble.
You yelped at the sudden looming of his broad silhouette over your shoulder, hands gripping the handle of the basket until your knuckles shown pale. "Fuck, Kei - were you born without the ability to clear your throat or something?"
He allowed himself a low chuckle at your flustered gripe, the rumbling timbre rattling against the humid fog of air still clinging to his skin from the recent shower. "And have you go deaf from lack of usage? Where's the fun in that?"
You rolled your eyes at his flippant rejoinder, muscles visibly relaxing though your grip remained white-knuckled on the laundry basket's handle. Tsukishima took the opportunity to rake his molten stare overtly down the towel-shrouded length of his torso, gaze finally snagging on the juncture of terrycloth where it strained against his hips. When he lifted his focus back to you, you were frozen in unmistakable appreciation of the visual feast he'd offered.
"If you needed help wrestling that big load into the closet, you need only ask," Tsukishima purred, allowing a lascivious note to bleed into his tone conspicuously.
The effect was instantaneous - you flushed a vivid crimson, darting eyes quickly skating away from his as you scrambled for some sense of control over the encounter. "I've got it, thanks," you managed in a strangled tone pitched several decibels too high.
Rather than respecting your dismissal, Tsukishima took the opportunity to sidle in fractionally closer, near enough for his towel's hem to ghost a teasing caress over the distracted splay of your knuckles around the laundry basket. He watched with rapt fascination as a shudder rippled through your frame, gooseflesh erupting over the exposed canvas of your forearms until your every fine hair was on charged end.
"You seem awfully flustered this morning," he murmured against the vulnerable juncture of your jaw, near enough for you to feel the puff of his words' passage skating over your electrified skin. "Perhaps a cold shower would help...?"
Your breath hitched raggedly at the blatant suggestion, inadvertently allowing your shoulders to brush against the naked, fever-warm expanse of Tsukishima's torso as you attempted to put space between you. He seized the aborted movement as invitation to encroach further, hips canting minutely to press the lean V of his pelvis flush against the tantalizing flare of your backside.
The sudden, intimate contact obliterated whatever composure you'd been desperately clinging to like a scrap of cloth underfoot. In the same breath, you sucked in a harsh gasp, entire body going rigid as every synapse whited out into searing focus on that singular, scorching point of contact. Tsukishima took full advantage, bending fractionally to sluice the words directly against the heated hollow beneath your ear with hideous intimacy.
"I could give you some...private lessons on cooling down if you need them."
Your resultant groan punched from your diaphragm, strangled more from disbelief than outrage. He could sense the last tattered shreds of your propriety fraying by the second in the face of his unrelenting siege. But just as he prepared to deliver another barrage to fully breach your defenses, the muffled creak of the apartment's front door once again heralded an untimely interruption.
This time you reacted by shoving the unwieldy laundry basket away like a battering ram, toppling free without a second glance as you fled the explosive radius of Tsukishima's provocations. He watched you retreat with an impassive, heavy-lidded stare - utterly unbothered by the dispersion of clothing and sundry garments now littering the hallway and already plotting his next strategic offensive.
The antagonizing intimacy of each near-culmination left you shaken and destabilized. But far from dissuading Tsukishima's fixation, the withdrawal only whetted his compulsions to increasingly feverish heights with each cycle. He rode the high of those flirtations with ruinous gravities longer and longer, psyche buzzing like a live wire steadily burning away its protective shielding to expose the raw arcing filaments beneath.
That fissure between the polite fictions you clung to and the heaving, atavistic impulses rattling for release was widening. Every subsequent encounter fractured the remaining quarrystone just a bit more, slowly transforming your relationship into a gaping maw daring you both to pitch forward into its obscene, annihilating radiances.
So Tsukishima pressed on with increasing abandon, heedless of the devastation he courted. Every accidental-on-purpose brush of heated flesh on flesh, every suggestive murmur or remark purposefully engineered to send your thoughts into frenzied tailspins...he wielded them as agents of chaotic erosion. Turbulent eddies and searing plumes blasted relentlessly against the remaining integrity of your defenses until only sheared-away remnants remained.
All while Tsukishima waited, every particle accelerated to maximum catalyzing potential, for the inescapable moment of criticality where you could no longer withstand the forces arrayed against your restraint. Where you were reduced to ground zero, a supernova singularity from which there could be no outgassing or reconstitution - only absolute decoherence and surrender to the annihilating truth of what ravened between you.
A late spring storm rolled in unexpectedly that evening, thunder rumbling ominously as dark clouds opened up and unleashed torrential rain. The storm's fury showed no signs of abating as the hours ticked by. The dreary tattoo of rainfall eventually lulled into a static blanket of white noise surrounding the apartment.
You meandered into the kitchen at one point, abandoning all pretenses of productivity in favor of mindlessly rummaging through the cabinets. A handful of stray snacks and your favorite battered paperback provided a meager salve against the oppressive restlessness taking root.
By the time you settled back in the living room, periodically breaking from your reading to stare vacantly out the rain-lashed windows, cabin fever had well and truly set in. You barely registered the bathroom door opening and closing, or the faint pad of footfalls approaching until Tsukishima cleared his throat from the entryway.
You startled, nearly dislodging the nest of blankets cocooned around you as you twisted to face him. A lick of heat blossomed low in your belly at his utterly distracting state of dishabille - shirtless and tousled from the shower, worn sweatpants hanging perilously low on his lean hips.
"You just going to pretend to read all night, or...?" Tsukishima's words trailed off in that suggestive lilt he seemed to wield solely to unhinge you. You swallowed hard against the aridity prickling your throat.
"Well, this would be a lot more exciting if we could have anticipated being trapped inside together," You heard yourself replying in a tone bordering on breathless despite your best efforts at maintaining nonchalance.
One corner of Tsukishima's mouth curved in a devilish smirk. "Who says it has to be boring?"
You blinked rapidly, frozen in place as he prowled closer with that maddeningly unhurried, predatory gait of his. Your chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, unconsciously telegraphing the spike in your pulse when he sank onto the sofa next to you.
"Relax," he murmured, voice gone low and rumbly in a way that sparked exquisite little frissons all along your limbs. "If you get any more tightly wound, you're liable to spontaneously combust."
The blatant suggestion in his tone triggered a fresh blossoming heat across your collarbones. You licked your lips instinctively, hyper-aware of Tsukishima's bedroom-eyed stare tracking the movement with unmistakable interest.
"Maybe I could use a distraction, then," you managed in a tone aiming for arch nonchalance but emerging husky and tremulous instead.
Tsukishima hummed deep in his chest, leaning in infinitesimally closer until you could make out the feathery whorls of individual lashes framing those molten eyes, the dusting of faint freckles scattered across his sculpted cheekbones.
"I can think of a few options for that..."
The low, velvety rasp of his words catalyzed a cascading frisson reaction along your nerves. Your gasped inhale wavered precariously close to a whine of surrender as the heated miasma of Tsukishima's proximity shrouded you in intoxicating totality.
He dipped nearer still, one calloused fingertip trailing an incendiary path up the exposed slope of your shoulder until it curved tantalizingly around the base of your throat.
The molten gravity between you yawned and stretched taut as a singularity's event horizon as your gazes met and mingled - all the riotous impulses and shredded refrains of propriety temporarily abandoned to the upswell of that heated, eclipsing tension.
Tsukishima's lashes hooded heavily as his stare dropped to linger meaningfully on your parted lips. You felt your own eager inhale stutter in your lungs as he leaned the final incremental distance separating you and—
The abrupt squall of your phone's ringtone pierced the rapturous bubble of hushed tension with all the delicacy of a gunshot, sending you both flinching violently apart in a mutual full-bodied startle.
You scrambled to untangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets while Tsukishima surged to his feet, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring in mingled aggravation and unfulfilled yearning.
"You'd better get that," he bit out gruffly before stalking away in a tightly-leashed whirlwind, already shrugging into a discarded shirt as he retreated down the hallway.
You stared after his abrupt exit for several long, thunderstruck beats before fumbling for your phone to end the wretched interruption. Outside, the rain still pelted with unremitting force against the windows in a dreary percussive counterpoint to the furious pounding of adrenaline roaring between your temples.
Alone once more, you sank jelly-legged back onto the couch, thoughts whirring with chaotic possibilities and unvoiced recriminations. Relief at avoiding...what, precisely, you couldn't identify. Frustration, resentment that the moment between you had shattered so irrevocably. And underneath it all, a deeper, hungrier current that no amount of conscientious denial could quell entirely.
Try as you might to restrict its momentum, the inescapable gravities catalyzing between you had grown too immense and intrinsically locked to be denied indefinitely. It was only a matter of time now before they overwhelmed the final eroding vestiges of your restraint entirely.
The apartment felt thick with pent-up energy in the aftermath of that aborted, almost-intersection. An overcharged miasma clung to every room, every mundane occurrence between you now freighted with unvoiced implications.
Tsukishima grew increasingly emboldened in those ensuing days, needling you with suggestive remarks and invasions of personal space that bordered on the obscene. You responded with curt rejoinders or stony silence, but the effect was like dousing a raging wildfire with a garden hose's dribble.
He crowded you against the kitchen counter one evening as you washed dishes, chest brushing your back with each inhale until your hands stilled beneath the soapy deluge.
"Need some help?" The seductive rasp filtered across the sensitive whorls of your ear, making you shudder involuntarily. "These dishes are looking...utterly filthy."
Before you could formulate a retort or extricate yourself, Tsukishima's hands slid around your waist in a purposefully artless mimicry of an embrace. His palms skated over the taut planes of your abdomen, smearing trails of soapy water as he leaned in fractionally closer until his lips disturbed the diaphanous veil of your hair.
"I do so love getting my hands...dirty," he practically purred, the resonant undulations of his voice reverberating through you with exquisite intimacy.
You froze utterly, knuckles gone bloodless around the ceramic edges of the plate clutched between your fingers. Every measured inhalation you drew only stoked the bonfire of Tsukishima's proximity raging higher and hotter around you.
Each hitched breath fanned the flames of your indecision as warring instincts - to flee or surrender, remain locked in this smoldering stasis or detonate the fuse between you entirely - battled for dominance.
Tsukishima seemed to sense the infinitesimal tremors rattling through your frame in those charged moments, tactician that he was. His calloused hands spanned your midriff possessively, kneading at the tension barricading your abdomen in wordless invitation.
When you remained immobilized in his orbit, petrified equally by terror and temptation, he allowed the exhalation of a rapturous sigh to scorch every previously unexplored hollow and curve of your exposed skin.
"Look at me," he commanded at last in that same ruinous timbre that stripped you of rational capacity.
You complied sluggishly, as if wading through atmospheric densities double their usual weight, until your unfocused gaze locked with the blown-wide expanses of Tsukishima's irises.
His stare smoldered with undisguised hunger, burning paths over your parted lips and the rapid fluttering of your pulse point before searing back to meet your own glazed regard. You felt utterly hypnotized in that annealing instant, magnetized towards this singularity of eclipsing provocation.
Tsukishima didn't so much lean in as allow the event horizon to gradually envelop you both, each synapse and loaded inhale telescoping further into the same devouring radiance. He cradled your nape in one broad palm, anchoring you inescapably as his mouth angled to collision upon yours with finality of celestial bodies yielding to intractable gravities.
Victory and resignation burned in equal measure in his stare, as if daring you to be the one to extinguish this final infinite breath separating you from sating the compulsions simmering for far too excruciatingly—
A thunderous barrage of knuckles at the front door splintered the raptured silence into shards. You gasped against the searing proximity of Tsukishima's lips, every nerve ending jolted back to momentary lucidity. He uttered a guttural rasp of pure frustration, eyes squeezing shut as if willing away this latest violation.
But the hammering at the entryway persisted with escalating force and urgency, finally severing the spell suspending you both in that singular, transcendent stasis. Tsukishima wrenched himself away with visible effort, backpedaling several paces as you remained rooted in place and trembling.
The turbulence from his abrupt withdrawal left a roiling wake of eddies disturbing the humid atmosphere around you. You struggled to recapture your equilibrium, senses still hazy with unsated yearning and the acrid tang of almost-completion.
Tsukishima stalked towards the front entrance in a tightly-leashed whirlwind, movements telegraphing his agitation through every taut line of musculature. Just before wrenching the door open, he slanted you one final inscrutable look from beneath hooded lashes - one final lancing intimation that this wasn't over by any means.
Not until all veils were sundered and both of you yielded to the compulsions wheeling you ever closer to that searing event horizon of no return.
Tsukishima returned to the apartment that evening utterly drained from a marathon study session at the library. The weight of fatigue clung to his bones like full-body restraints as he fumbled with his keys, thoughts fuzzy and focused solely on collapsing into bed for a few hours' reprieve.
So when the sounds of muted conversation and low laughter filtered through from inside, he felt the first faint prickle of alertness pierce his exhaustion-fogged senses. You hardly ever had visitors over besides Akiteru, which meant—
A fresh wave of wakefulness doused Tsukishima as he quietly pushed through the door to find you nestled on the couch...accompanied by another man he didn't immediately recognize. You were angled towards this stranger with your full attention, body cant subtly inward as you spoke in hushed, impassioned tones, the two of you leaning unconsciously ever-closer with each conspiratorial murmur.
A muscle went taut along Tsukishima's jaw as he registered the intimate tableau before him - the way the man's broad shoulders hunched eagerly towards you, that undisguised spark of naked interest glinting in his heavy-lidded assessment of your features. Setting the scene like another planet abruptly shifting into Tsukishima's established orbit without permission.
He cleared his throat once, a percussive bark that shattered the hushed ambiance and had you both jolting upright like repelled magnets across a forcefield. The man whipped around with a look of surprise rapidly melting into sheepish discomfiture as you straightened, kneading the knotted throw pillow in your grasp like a lifeline.
"Kei! You're, uh—you're back sooner than I expected," you stammered after a loaded pause. The tips of your ears flushed slightly under Tsukishima's bland, assessing stare. "I was just...catching up with an old friend from undergrad. We haven't seen each other in ages."
Your eyes pleaded guilelessly for some sense of normalcy, but Tsukishima felt the riptide undertow of something distinctly possessive and unslakeable roaring to the surface within him. His gaze sliced incisively to the stranger sitting just a hair too intimately close to you.
"I see. Well, I didn't mean to interrupt your...catching up," he intoned at length, each precisely shaped syllable dripping with the confrontational lilt of challenge. The look he slanted at the other man may as well have been semaphored in neon: This ends now.
To the guy's credit, he seemed to grasp the perilous undercurrents tensing the atmosphere with a clarity that escaped your well-meaning obliviousness. After throwing an inscrutable, questioning look your way that garnered no reassurance, he stood abruptly and made a show of straightening his clothes.
"You know what, you're absolutely right. I've probably overstayed my welcome tonight," he addressed both of you in a tone striving for diplomacy, even as his eyes danced between Tsukishima's smoldering countenance and your deepening frown of consternation. "Rain check on the rest of the reminiscing? It was...great catching up."
You opened your mouth, undoubtedly to protest his abrupt exit, but Tsukishima seized control of the situation before it could spiral chaotically out of control.
"Of course," he interjected smoothly, stepping aside just enough to allow the man to skirt a wide berth past his obstinately planted form. A significant look passed between them - bristling with unspoken reproach and sizing up - before your friend finally made his exit.
The door had barely clicked shut before Tsukishima turned his gimlet focus towards you fully, already advancing into your space like an unstoppable force guided by irrefutable trajectories.
"Making new friends in my absence?" The question emerged in a low rasp, knife-edged with barely restrained umbrage that lent it a vaguely mocking quality. "That's either impressively brazen...or cruelly negligent of you."
You blinked up at him owlishly from your seat on the couch, hands still worrying that hapless throw pillow like a discarded stress ball as Tsukishima's scorching presence buffeted you from all sides.
"Kei, what is your problem?" You fired back at last, sounding more petulant than convincingly indignant as he loomed over you in mounting displeasure. "He really was just an old friend. We didn't—"
"Didn't what?" Tsukishima cut you off with biting false-geniality. "Put on a salacious little show of false intimacy where I could clearly see how eager he was to rekindle old flames? Force me to witness how withdrawn and rapturous your attention was while tucked so close together?"
"That's not fair," you protested, beginning to push upright from the couch cushions only to have Tsukishima's broad palms bracket the rumpled fabric on either side of your head – effectively caging you in place as he prowled even nearer.
You swallowed hard, suddenly dizzy from the electrifying proximity of his presence and the scorching recrimination skating through his gimlet stare. Tsukishima cocked his head fractionally to one side, assessing you with such intensity it was like being systematically disrobed layer by layer.
"Do you even realize what it does to me?" He breathed at last, the hushed rasp of his words rippling intimately against the sensitive whorls of your inner ear. "Seeing you so openly beguiled by another, being dismissed from your undivided attention?"
He shifted infinitesimally closer, near enough for you to feel the searing thermals of his body heat and track the tangled riot of individual lashes framing each heavy-lidded stare. Tsukishima's voice had taken on a smoky, nectar-thick resonance that seemed to burrow straight down into your innermost nexuses of instinct and longing.
"Kei, I..." Whatever feeble protestation you attempted to summon fractured on your tongue as he dipped even nearer still. Tsukishima's nose skated a scorching, featherlight path along the line of your jaw until his mouth hovered a scant hairsbreadth from yours - so perilously close that you could taste the arid exhalations gusting from between his parted lips.
"Every fiber of my being rails against the mere notion of being an afterthought in your attentions," he confessed in a spine-tingling purr. "Of having to tolerate another encroaching on...what's mine."
The naked possessiveness saturating that final rasp stripped you of any remaining pretenses of composure. You could only manage a muted whimper from somewhere in the back of your throat as the full weight of Tsukishima's compulsions - his long-smoldering fixation you'd denied for far too long now - reverberated through you in rapturous detonations.
You sensed his gravitic tides enveloping you, every forbidden longing suddenly compressed into hyper-focused singularity between the searing, infinitesimal proximity of your bodies. Tsukishima searched your wide, unfocused stare for any hint of rejection or objection and found only stunned, reciprocal rapture gazing back.
"Tell me you don't want this as badly," he growled with low, dangerous timbre. "Look me in the eyes and convince me you haven't imagined surrendering to inevitability as completely as I have every torturous second of denying it..."
He sealed the minuscule gap separating you in one blistering rush. Tsukishima's mouth slanted hotly over yours with all the ruthless, unyielding insistence you'd come to expect but could never have braced for. The first shocking contact detonated like a lightning strike, shorting out any lingering mental processes apart from sheer visceral conflagration.
You shuddered full-bodily into the onslaught, hands convulsing in the cushions as his palms cradled your jaw to hold you immobile. Tsukishima surged even more impossibly nearer, his calloused palm rasping up the sensitive juncture of your throat until his fingertips found purchase in the dense silk of your hair.
Within seconds you were pliant and keening against him, lips parting wantonly on a gasping whine as he slanted his mouth across yours with relentless, devouring precision. The first exploratory swipe of his velvet tongue left you utterly unraveled, quaking with full-bodied devastation as Tsukishima mapped every searing nuance of your intimate geometries.
He allowed no quarter or reservations to persist - only the full, immolating truth of his compulsions made exquisitely and irrefutably manifest against the plush glide of your lips, the wet velvet of your mouth yielding beneath the onslaught of his attentions.
Every tremor that ripped through you seemed to lance Tsukishima with renewed fervency. He groaned, low and harrowing, as your eager fingers fisted spasmodically in the fabric of his shirt, seeking any sort of anchoring purchase amidst the bewildering, rapturous upheaval.
You'd never experienced anything like this - this level of sheer totality and berserker focus distilled into physical expression. It was as if Tsukishima were searing the incontrovertible truth of his fixation into your very bones using only his lips and tongue and ceaseless, gnawing hunger.
Years of repression and denial and circuitous gravities slowly compounding into critical mass between you abruptly detonated into coalescent bliss. This ravenous claiming was equal parts absolution and desperate, lurid gratification of compulsions far too immense to subdue any longer.
You felt the dense warmth of his palm skating searingly down your torso, bunching and rucking your clothing with each searing glide. The plaintive, wrecked sound you managed to produce at the sudden intimate contact only seemed to further unleash the rampant undertow of Tsukishima's ardor.
His answering growl rumbled straight through your hazes and nexi, reverberating across every shockwave of awakened nerves and nerve endings. Some distant part of you felt subsumed entirely under the rising tide of that overwhelming onslaught, relinquishing the last shards of agency and coherence to simply experience rapture in its most ruinous, annihilating distillation.
You surrendered utterly in that moment - mind, body, and soul catalyzed to a singular axis point devouring every permutation of reality save for the obscene, unholy revelations of Tsukishima's mouth and hands searing reality anew into your senses.
This was what you had both been hurtling towards for far too long, stubbornly resisting the cosmic insistence of fate and willful denial despite inevitability's inescapable gravities. With an inarticulate keen of abject surrender, you canted your jaw and yielding to the delirium of that blissful, eternal singularity at last.
Tsukishima, his obsession reified into living religion, was more than willing to meet you on that ecstatic boundary and usher you both fully across the divide.
The moment your lips parted in surrender, Tsukishima surged forward with the ferocious insistence of a man finally allowing years of repressed starvation to run rampant. His mouth slanted hotly over yours with lurid, open-mouthed fervor, tongue spearing past seam of your lips to map every searing plane of velvet within.
You keen softly at the blinding intensity, fingers convulsing in the rumpled fabric of his shirt as you pulled him bodily closer - suddenly desperate to extinguish any last vestige of space between your frames. Tsukishima growled his approval against your lips, hands spanning your jaw to tilt your head into the perfect devouring angle as his hips canted forward purposefully.
The blatant press and grind of his cock against your lower abdomen catalyzed a full-body shudder. You arched instinctively against the maddening friction, soft whimpers punching from your throat with each subsequent roll of Tsukishima's hips against your own. He swallowed those needy keens hungrily, tongue plunging with filthy precision to entwine and taste every nuance of reciprocation from you.
Your skin felt electrified, every fine hair prickling with rapturous sensitivity in Tsukishima's overwhelming radiance. You clutched at the cut slopes of his shoulders like a lifeline, mind hazing out into dissociative planes of ecstasy with each languid swirl and thrust of his tongue against yours. The dizzying intimacy of his ravenous mouth and roving hands mapping possessive paths across your shuddering curves was utterly obliterating.
Just when you felt the last tattered remnants of oxygen deprivation graying the corners of your consciousness, Tsukishima relented fractionally - dragging his lips in a scorching, openmouthed trail along the rigid tendons of your neck. You gulped in precious gulps of air, everything zoning into hyper-focused clarity on the heavenly ministrations of his mouth mapping your thundering pulse point before continuing up to lave the sensitive basin beneath your ear.
"Been dreaming of this..." he confessed in a voice guttered to smoke and honey. "Of finally having you splayed and breathless beneath me."
The barefaced carnal imagery and undisguised compulsion in his tone punched a whine from deep in your chest. Somewhere through the synaptic whiteouts of pleasure, you managed a tremulous plea for more of that undiluted truth to be scorched into your awareness.
Tsukishima growled in savage gratification, hips snapping forward again to grind deliciously against you as his mouth trailed liquid infernos across your cheekbone back towards your lips. "Had to watch you for years unconscious of how badly I wanted this...needed you laid out and whimpering for me."
Your resultant moan obliterated any lingering attempt at composure. He took ruthless advantage once more, tongue spearing past your parted lips to taste the uninhibited rapture. You surged against him mindlessly, fingers spasming into the tense cording of muscle spanning his back as your senses grew whited out in ecstasy.
Tsukishima shifted his weight to fully bracket you into the couch, the blissful cradle of his hips slotting obscenely against your own as his calloused fingers traced paths of ruination everywhere they roamed. You were malleable putty in his hands - liquefied by desperation and the annihilating surrender to compulsions held at bay for far too excruciatingly long.
Your clothes were rapidly becoming an obstacle, the fabric rucked and constricting until you felt the full force of Tsukishima's blazing touch against the delicate planes and curves of your bare skin. You writhed instinctively beneath him, desperate to be freed of the confines and fully submerged in the molten radiance of his body.
Tsukishima seemed to intuit your desire with the preternatural synchronicity he exhibited on the court. In seconds, his calloused palms had skimmed beneath your shirt and peeled it deftly overhead, tossing it carelessly aside as he drank in the sight of you half-clothed and quivering.
"Perfect..." He rasped, eyes darkening in appreciation as they raked over your bare chest and stomach, the peaks of your nipples stiffening beneath his ravenous gaze. Tsukishima's tongue darted across his lower lip, and the gesture was so sinfully enticing that you couldn't help but whine low in the back of your throat.
That seemed to spur him into action, and his hands were suddenly everywhere. Your pants and underwear disappeared in a whirlwind of movement, and then you were spread bare beneath him. The way he looked at you - the unmitigated heat and desire and raw possession gleaming in his stare - made you flush with arousal all over.
Tsukishima's hands were everywhere, mapping every exposed plane and curve with an intensity that left you gasping. His touch was searing, callouses rasping deliciously over the sensitive peaks of your breasts and nipples, making you arch into him.
"Please..." you gasped, already beyond words, beyond anything but the need to feel him against you, inside you. "Please, Kei..."
That seemed to be all the permission he needed. His eyes flashed with dark hunger, and his hands were moving to push his own pants and underwear off. You couldn't help the soft cry that escaped you as his cock sprang free, thick and heavy and leaking precum.
Tsukishima wasted no time, his fingers slipping between your thighs to find you dripping for him. You whined, bucking against him, desperate for more friction. His fingers slid inside you, fucking into you with a steady rhythm that had you writhing against him.
You could feel the molten, inescapable radiance of Tsukishima's stare tracking every twitch and flutter of expression, every involuntary jerk and shiver of response in your frame. He seemed intent on memorizing each subtle shift and hitch of rapturous torment rippling across your features, mapping the exact points that reduced you to keening, incoherent pleas.
His fingertips curled inside you with expert precision, stroking and teasing and stretching you open until you were a shuddering, moaning mess. You couldn't even think, could only feel, as the searing compulsion to be fully, utterly ravaged by Tsukishima's ravenous attentions obliterated all other concerns.
Tsukishima watched you come undone with a hunger that made your head spin. His eyes were dark and intense, drinking in every inch of you, every shudder and gasp. His gaze was nearly as palpable as his touch, setting your nerves alight.
"You're so beautiful like this..." he murmured, his voice ragged with lust. "All laid out and trembling for me, begging for my cock."
His words sent another wave of arousal through you, and you could feel yourself clench around his fingers. Tsukishima groaned, and his cock twitched, precum beading at the tip. You ached to taste him, to feel him inside you, filling you.
"Kei, please," you gasped, reaching for him, needing him. "Please, I need you, I need you inside me."
That seemed to be all the convincing he needed. Tsukishima withdrew his fingers, leaving you aching and empty for just a moment before his cock was pressing against your entrance. You moaned, arching into him, and he pushed inside with a groan.
The feeling of him inside you was almost too much. You were already so close, and the sensation of him filling you was enough to send you over the edge. But you wanted more, wanted to feel him move, to see him fall apart.
"Please," you managed, voice little more than a breathless whine. "Move, Kei, please, I need you..."
With a low growl, he began to move, thrusting into you with deep, powerful strokes that had you crying out with each one. His cock filled you perfectly, hitting every spot that made you see stars. You clung to him, desperate for more, needing more.
The sounds of pleasure falling from Tsukishima's lips were absolutely sinful. You could feel his gaze raking over you, watching you fall apart beneath him. His pace increased, driving into you harder and faster. You could feel your climax building, each stroke sending you closer and closer to the edge.
Tsukishima's fingers tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the delicate line of your throat. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, and you moaned, arching into him. His hips snapped forward, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over.
"Come for me," he growled, his voice raw with lust. "I want to feel you come, to feel you fall apart for me."
That was all it took to send you careening over the edge. You came hard, crying out his name as your orgasm crashed over you in wave after wave. He fucked you through it, prolonging your pleasure until you were a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him.
As your climax subsided, Tsukishima's movements became more erratic. He was close, you could tell, his breathing ragged and his thrusts losing their rhythm. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, urging him on.
"Come for me, Kei," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Come inside me, I need to feel you, please..."
Those words seemed to push him over the edge. With a groan, he thrust into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you. You clung to him, riding out his orgasm with him.
As the aftershocks faded, he collapsed against you, his body heavy and warm. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. You could feel his heart hammering against your chest, and his breath was hot against your neck.
You could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in each other, but Tsukishima's weight was becoming uncomfortable. After a moment, he shifted, pulling out and rolling onto his side. His eyes were still dark, but now they were also soft, and his expression was unreadable.
"Are you okay?" His voice was low and gentle, and the tenderness in it made your heart ache.
You nodded, reaching up to cup his face in your hand. He leaned into the touch, and you could feel the tension in his body melting away.
"I'm perfect," you whispered, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, slow and sweet. "Absolutely perfect."
Tsukishima's answering smirk was infuriating and triumphant and insufferably smug, but he gathered you up in his arms and pressed a searing kiss to your temple nonetheless. The weight of him surrounding you, anchoring you to the here and now, felt like absolution and promise and utter perfection all rolled into one.
In the afterglow, there was no need to dissemble or deny the seismic magnitude of what had just transpired between the two of you. Tsukishima's arm draped possessively across your waist, his fingertips tracing idle, sensuous patterns across the smooth expanse of your abdomen as he pressed a drugging kiss to the nape of your neck.
"Do you regret it yet?" His murmured inquiry was a smoky rumble, laced with equal parts wry humor and uncharacteristic uncertainty.
"Never," you responded immediately, no hesitation or equivocation clouding your response. You craned your head back to lock gazes with him, allowing the full force of your conviction to bleed through in your stare.
A smile curled at the corners of Tsukishima's lips - the rare, genuine kind that made your heart skip a beat. He pressed another kiss to the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing the tender skin just enough to make you gasp.
"Good," he purred, sounding distinctly self-satisfied as he curled his body possessively around yours. "Because I've been waiting years to do that...and I'm nowhere near done."
You laughed, lightheaded and giddy and utterly smitten. This had certainly escalated far beyond any realm of your comprehension, but Tsukishima's ardent compulsions had been so thoroughly fulfilled that he seemed willing to let the past - and whatever might have transpired between you and him tonight - fade into the ether of the future.
And when Tsukishima's mouth slanted across your lips in another searing, devouring kiss, you found that you really, truly couldn't bring yourself to care about anything beyond this blissful, annihilating singularity of reality.
You awoke the next morning, deliciously sore and tangled in Tsukishima's embrace. A lazy smile tugged at your lips as you basked in the warmth of his sleeping form. Memories of the previous night's passion made a pleasant shiver run down your spine.
A sharp rap at the door made you both jolt awake. Tsukishima frowned as the insistent knocking continued. You quickly gathered the blanket around your bare form as he tugged on a discarded pair of shorts and stalked over to answer it.
The door swung open to reveal Akiteru, a cheerful grin spreading across his face. "Hey, little bro! I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd—" His eyes went comically wide as they landed on you clutching the blanket to your chest. "Oh... Oh!"
Tsukishima pinched the bridge of his nose, cheeks flushing scarlet. "Aki..."
"You... and her?" Akiteru sputtered, smile dropping as the realization sank in. He swiveled his gaze between the two of you, brows climbing higher with each passing second.
An awkward silence stretched as you shrank further into the couch cushions. Akiteru's expression morphed from shock into a teasing smirk.
"Well, well, well. I can't say I didn’t see this coming!" He let out a low whistle. "Though I can't blame you for your excellent taste, Kei."
"Don't start," Tsukishima warned, ears burning. He snatched the pastry box from Akiteru's hands and shoved it against his chest. "Now get out before I slam the door in your face."
Akiteru chuckled, holding up his free hand in surrender. "All right, all right! I'm going!" He leveled a wink your direction. "We'll have to grab drinks sometime and you can give me all the details."
"Out!"
The door slammed on Akiteru's retreating laughter. Tsukishima's shoulders slumped as he turned back to you, expression tinged with mortification.
You bit your lip to stifle a grin. "Well... that was suitably awkward."
He groaned, falling onto the couch and burying his face in your neck. "I'm never going to hear the end of this."
Chuckling softly, you carded your fingers through his sleep-mussed curls. "Look on the bright side—at least he took it better than expected?"
Tsukishima huffed but made no move to pull away from your comforting embrace. After a long moment, he tilted his head back to meet your gaze, eyes softening.
"I guess that's one way to break the news," he murmured wryly.
You laughed, leaning down to brush a soft kiss to his furrowed brow. "Don't worry, we've got all the time in the world to figure the rest out together."
A faint smile finally curved his lips as he reached up to cup your cheek, expression filled with unguarded affection. "Yeah... together sounds perfect."
fem!reader, menção a arma e bebida alcoólica (fiquem de boa, não rola nada ruim), cenário de filme bang bang, sexo sem proteção, implícito "enemies" to something rs, implícito um size!kink, repostagem.
Pistola na mesa, barro de deserto, cavalo dos fios negros e quem o monta é o forasteiro, de chapéu de couro e rosto exalando mistério.
Você suspira, engole o whiskey envolvido em pedras de gelo, pensa que é quem procura, o forasteiro que ajudou-lhe a capturar um famoso criminoso, lembra de dividir o mesmo cavalo com ele, parte de trás, os dedos dele na tua cintura, em movimento. Pareciam até uma dupla, mas ele age feito um lobo solitário, uma lenda local. O cowboy tinha má fama, lábia boa, andava por aí sem medir consequências, provocando o xerife da cidade e outros condenados.
Não tinham nada envolvido, mas sempre que se esbarravam, era jogo de palavras, o forasteiro colocava os dedos em guarda na pistola, brincava com o cinto nas calças sempre sujas de barro e o ajeitava no quadril. Sentia certa raiva dele, tão feito de tudo, mas não dizia nada, odiava deixar de saber as coisas e ele gostava de a deixar nessa dúvida, gostava de dizer "Não tenho porque dizer isso, tenho?", a qualquer questão que fosse jogada para ele.
E você o via indo e vindo, na neblina, com o relincho do animal sendo escutado por aí, sumindo, indo pra longe de ti, vago demais.
Ele te conquistava, conquista, mesmo que não saiba. E você sabe, sabe o nome dele, o nome que nenhum outro cowboy clichê tem.
É noite, você escuta um barulho vindo das portas sanfonadas, que abrem-se, o som das botas pretas batem no chão de madeira, dá um sorriso. Cheiro de problema e pólvora, sente-se tentada, o rosto ainda é coberto pelas franjas do chapéu.
Mas já presume quem é. Song Mingi.
— O de sempre. — A voz rouquenha e baixa diz, você observa do outro canto, dá um último gole no líquido âmbar. Caminha em direção ao corpo escorado na copa, senta-se ao lado, põe a espingarda em cima da bancada, olha-o de baixo para cima.
E ele repara, solta uma risada carregada.
— Você de novo.
— Ainda não sei seu nome. — Direta, o corta, não deixa-o terminar de falar, sonsa, cria uma mentirinha porque sente necessidade de ouvi-lo falar, arrogante.
— Não sei se devo dizer meu nome para uma mulher cuja arma me ameaça.
O forasteiro alto de olhos carregando perigo responde, acha gracioso como os dentes tortinhos adornam os lábios rosados, como tudo nele é tão enigmático e flor que não se cheire, te deixa curiosa.
Tudo nele é intenso demais, enerva.
Já se viram antes, desencontros que cada vez mais deixavam-lhe ansiosa, ele sabia cavalgar, rodopiar cordas, era habilidoso com as mãos, com a pistola que carregava em sua cintura fina.
Suspirava pelo forasteiro alto, de fios ralos e platinados. Suspirava por Mingi e não lembrava-se dele sendo tão grande como agora.
— Desculpe. — Responde, deixa que a arma intervenha entre vocês dois, ainda em guarda. Volta a provocar e insistir — Agora posso saber o seu nome?
Aquele repuxar cínico nos lábios te acende e você cria pretextos, não é seguro fazê-lo, mas o modo como o pomo de Adão se move a cada gole na bebida alcoólica te faz pensar um milhão de coisas.
— Por que quer tanto saber meu nome, gracinha?
Pergunta, oh sim. A voz está embriagada, Mingi empurra o copo vazio, lhe dá toda a atenção que precisa, a postura está toda para sua visão e dispor. Troca olhares com você, te examina, os olhos persistem um pouco mais no decote que lhe expõe, pensa "Sei o que está fazendo", mas não diz nada, apenas espera uma reação sua.
— Já nos encontramos tantas vezes… — Seu tom muda, é criado um apetite, de repente você aproxima-se do corpo dele, cínica.
— Acha que isso é o suficiente? — Ele faz o mesmo, segue seus movimentos. — Eu posso saber seu nome?
O hálito dele é quente, condiz com o teu, alcoólico. Seu nariz roça no dele, os olhos desviam dos teus para os lábios, não consegue disfarçar e esconder a vontade que tem. Muito esperta, você acata sua espingarda, coloca-a novamente sobre a bancada enquanto encosta o corpo no dele, excitada.
— Eu quero um beijo teu…
Se expõe, coloca o cano metálico direcionado para o corpo dele e, Mingi te segue, adorna a pistola, trazendo a extensão da arma para a boca, faz um "shh", astuto te pega pela mão e saí do bar pouco movimentado.
E quando menos espera, está apoiada no capô de uma velha caminhonete, atrás do bar, Mingi te beija, coloca-a em seu colo enquanto seus dedos abrem os botões da camiseta dele, surrada dentro da calça.
Não tem nada de bonito no beijo, é desejo, certa raiva e aquilo te suga, deixa molinha, você geme a cada mordida que ele desconta nos teus lábios, a cada aperto que ele dá na sua cintura.
Droga, droga, Mingi te possuí, estapeia sua bunda e os dedos dele estão tão concentrados no seu pescoço, conduzindo um beijo que parece lhe roubar fôlego, sobrenatural. E quando menos percebe, a dureza te desperta, você se afasta, abre o cinto sem muito o que dizer e ele te olha, olha de um jeito que faz com que seu coração erre as batidas.
É movida por vontades, não desvencilha o olhar do dele, não deixa que nenhuma expressão de Mingi fuja do seu controle e memória. Você abaixa a maldita cueca, o adorna com a mão, quente, quente demais, o pau dele é tudo o que precisa naquele momento, nada mais importa.
A risada de escárnio dele se faz presente. O corpo dele te cobre, você está indefesa, deitada no capô do carro enquanto Mingi leva os dedos para sua calcinha; ele coloca-a de lado, passa o polegar pelas tuas dobras, diz "Você tá tão molhada gracinha..." e deixa que pincele o pau por sua conta.
Aos pouco ele invade o canal quentinho, você geme, o toma pela nuca, dominante, mas não o beija, apenas respiram um contra a boca do outro, Mingi é gostoso e tem um pau gordo que te preenche, parece até querer expulsá-lo. Você abre mais as pernas, ele apoia a mão contra o material do carro e com a outra auxilia suas pernas, junta seu quadril na pélvis dele.
— Buceta gulosa do caralho. — Sussurra contra teus lábios e tudo o que pode fazer é sorrir satisfeita, gosta dos palavrões.
Então, Mingi deixa seus seios a mostra, comanda seu tronco, o deita inteiro na lataria do carro, a mão direita corre para seu pescoço, onde ele aperta e, enquanto te fode, os lábios chupam seus mamilos, os dentes raspam, provocam, deixam as auréolas doloridinhas.
Ele acha adorável o seu gemidinho contido, enlouquece quando seu útero contraí ao redor dele.
— Goza e deixa aqui dentro, Gi. — O apelida, informal, porque sabe o nome dele.
Mingi acata seu pedido, geme grossinho enquanto te come fundo, te alarga e não tem nada de bonito nisso, só tesão, só isso e nada mais. Te beija, te devora, parte ao meio, porque gosta da ideia de leitar seu útero.
E mal sabe ele… quantas vezes vai voltar correndo pra ti, afinal, Mingi ainda não sabe o seu nome.
DIFFERENT AS BLACK AND WHITE - JYH (FROM THE 300 FOLLOWERS EVENT)
(Pictures are not mine, credits for the rightful owners)
Requested from anon
Thank you so much for the request 💕 This was so much fun to write, but damn it took me so long and I'm so sorry! I tried my best to make this bold cat black reader, but you guys let me know your thoughts!
Ateez Masterlist
You couldn’t blame the shock on anyone’s face whenever you and Yunho went out together in a friendly manner, even though it pains you to say it out loud. But it doesn’t mean it wasn’t annoying to notice it for the 150th time, someone whispering about the two of you behind your back in a restaurant nearby your office.
You took another deep breath as you played with the chains of your bag on your lap, a simple way to relieve stress that Yunho wouldn’t notice and wouldn’t ask about it.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”, you noticed his beautiful smile turn into a slight frown. “You’re pouting”.
There’s no way in hell that you are pouting, so you could only look at Yunho with the utmost outraged expression you could muster, but these days, it wasn’t much. That stupid motherfucker knows he makes you smile with a snap of his fingers.
“I’m not”.
“Oh really? So you are not looking like a pouty puppy right now for a reason you don’t want to tell me”.
“I’ll let slide the fact that you just called me puppy, what do you want to order?”, you held up the menu as you tried your hardest to keep yourself together.
He always knows somehow, but never pushes you more than you want to tell him. In his mind, someday you would open up to it, but that’s where he is wrong. You rather die than let your secret off your heart.
“You’re doing that again”, Yunho whined as he pushed the menu in your hands down.
You were surprised just as much as he was. That wasn’t thought through at all. Now, he was the one pouting, and you didn’t want anything else besides kissing it away, but you couldn’t, could you? You were paralyzed by the scene in front of you.
Yunho was mesmerizing without knowing. The way his blonde hair moved ever so slightly by the slow wind coming from the nearby windows, how his eyes would become little lines when he laughed and his ears would turn red as he lowered his head anytime you complement him.
He was so beautiful, and you were so frustrated that he would never think the same of you.
“Excuse me”, that same sweet voice that whispered how cute Yunho was behind you, sounded confident now. She stood beside your table, a nice smile on her face as she focused solely on him.
Fuck me, why does she have to be soo his type too?
Her good girl style matched perfectly with his husband material style. The epitome of the perfect girl for Yunho, which you always knew it wasn’t you. Sometimes you wondered if you just changed a little… then you remembered who you are and how you’d never do that, not even for him.
You wanted to throw yourself off the window as Yunho gave her a perfect polite smile, which was what a nice reasonable person would do, but you stopped caring about reasonable for a long time.
“I was just wondering… are you two on a date right now?”, she barely looked at you while saying that. “I don’t want to bother, if you are”.
“Yes, we are, so you can go back to whisper behind our back”.
It was a tough competition between who was more surprised, Yunho or the girl, yet you remained as calm and collected as you were, staring straight at her. Her smile fell so fast, her demeanor changing as quick as her confidence left her body.
It was a pleasing sight to watch, you couldn’t lie to yourself. Maybe if she wasn’t as dismissive of you, you could feel empathy and regret, but that was far from the case.
Yunho held in the waves of emotions going through him as the girl focused back on him, to confirm what you just said, in hopes maybe he would like her more somehow.
“I think your friends are calling for you”, Yunho said as he looked from the girl to the others behind your table.
She didn’t need another sign to excuse herself.
Yunho never stared at you with this much intensity, he wasn’t smiling. Your own confidence and poker face begin to slip up as you waited for him to say something, anything, even laugh at the scene that just unfolded.
Even if everything goes down hill with Yunho now, she also doesn’t get to be with him.
It’s a selfish thought, but it’s one that brings a tiny bit of comfort to your heart as you heard them all leave the restaurant.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
His question made you want to scream. There was so much you never said, so much you didn’t want to say still, what does he know now? That you’re jealous of him? That you like him? That maybe you’ve been into him for some time? Then he doesn’t know anything at all.
“Why didn’t you tell me that people whispering about us bothered you?”
He wasn’t asking the right question and he knew it. But now you know that he heard it too, that he notices every time it happened too, and still never said anything about it.
Your eyes fell to the menu in your hands. You could barely think, but he was waiting for a real answer.
“It doesn’t”, you heard the scoff leaving his mouth. “It didn’t-”, you correct yourself. “It didn’t, but these people need a lesson to mind their own business, don’t you think?”, you looked up at him again, the walls around you raising again.
“I do”, he leaned on the chair, a smirk growing on his face. “So, we’re dating now?”
“Fine, tease me about this as much as you want”, you smiled to yourself, not a happy one, no, but a content enough smile. “It must be fun for you to have that much attention”, you didn’t want to sound bitter, but you were.
“But I only want your attention”. He didn’t even hesitate to say that. His eyes looking for yours, but you still refused to look him in the eyes. “Hey-”, his hand grabbed yours and held it into his as you let go of the menu. “Don’t you believe me?”
He leaned in, his face tilted to the side as he watched your every move. You felt burning hot with all of his attention on you, specially like this, like your answer, like you, could make his night or ruin it.
“Of course I believe you, but that doesn’t make a difference at the end of the day be-”, you looked up at him.
“Because you act like you don’t like me even if you do”, he interrupted you.
You both went silent, trying to decipher each other’s reactions.
“You only figured that out now?”.
Once again, you caught him off guard. Yunho expected at least a shy smile from you, but he was the one blushing. The thought of you liking him for a long time made his heart flutter.
“Are you going to show me how much you like you me now?”, he wet his lips, catching your attention to it.
That shut you up, and he smiled wide, clearly satisfied with himself.
“Since when did you get that bold?”, you couldn’t resist the urge to smile yourself.
“Oh, you know perfectly who did this to me, don’t even pretend like it wasn’t you”.
You kept the act, even thought you knew it was true. You never let Yunho’s parents dream about it, but you were the bad influence between the two of you since you two met, all of those years ago.
Then, you gestured for him to come closer to you, and he did in such a naive innocence, that almost made you feel bad about the things you said next.
“What about we go to your house, so I show you all the things I still want to do to you, hm?”
You left the restaurant with a clearly embarrassed, distraught and hurried Yunho pulling you to his car. You both didn’t have much time of your lunch break, but that didn’t mean Yunho wouldn’t use every single second of it to his advantage.
