Synopsis: You slip away from the noise, finding a mysterious boy sitting alone, smoking in the dark. Drawn to him, you sit beside, and what begins as a shared silence quickly sparks into something unexpected, electric and unforgettable.
!!: Timeskip!Characters, Smoker!Suna, use of weed/alcohol, eventual smut (not in this chapter), Reader is Lev’s ex.
This is taken from Wattpad from MY account. I changed the Y/N stuff, figured nobody likes that anymore.
✧ Smoke and Mirrors (Part 2)✧
The bathroom door clicked shut behind you. You leaned against it for a second, the wood cool against your back, trying to catch your breath. The music thudded dimly through the floor. Your heels hurt. Your head buzzed, half from alcohol, half from the encounter with Lev.
When you turned toward the window, you froze.
Suna Rintarou was standing there, half in shadow, half in moonlight, leaning against the windowsill with a drink in one hand and the other tucked into his pocket. He looked just as caught off guard to see you.
“Y/N?” he asked, eyebrows lifting slightly. “Damn… I didn’t think I’d actually see you tonight.”
You blinked. “You… what? You knew I was here?”
He shrugged. “I heard. But people say a lot of things at these parties.”
The two of you looked at each other for a moment. It wasn’t awkward. Not exactly. Just full of something unspoken. Time. Distance. Maybe curiosity.
You stepped forward slowly, your back against the door now, arms crossed over your chest. “You disappeared.”
“So did you.”
That made you laugh softly. “Fair.”
Silence settled between you for a few seconds, the sound of the party downstairs fading into a dull blur. It felt strangely separate up here. Like the whole house had disappeared and left just the two of you in this dim room full of stale air and tension.
Suna broke the silence first, pulling a weed cart from his pocket and offering it casually.
“Want some?”
You raised an eyebrow. “You still smoke?”
A lazy smirk tugged at his mouth. “When did I ever not smoke?”
You rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Okay, whatever.”
He took a hit first, exhaling toward the cracked window. Everything about him still looked effortless. The sharp jaw, the sleepy eyes, the careless posture that somehow always felt intentional. It annoyed you a little. It always had.
You took the cart from him, inhaled slowly, then handed it back.
“Speaking of smoke,” he said suddenly, “what’s going on with you and Lev?”
Of course he knows.
You blinked. “Wait… how do you know about that?”
Suna only smirked and took another sip of his drink.
“Seriously,” you pressed. “Did he tell you?”
He shrugged again. “People talk.”
That answer irritated you more than it should have. You stepped closer, one hand settling on your hip.
“Okay, well, since you’re clearly invested: we dated. High school. It was dumb and cute and temporary. He left. I stayed. End of story.”
Suna raised an eyebrow. “That’s definitely the short version.”
You sighed, leaning back against the wall. “The long version? We were stupidly in love in that really innocent teenage way. Hallway kisses, late-night texts, arguing over who sucked more at science.”
“Sounds… adorable,” he deadpanned.
You scoffed and held your hand out. “Give me that.”
He lifted the cart just out of reach. “You sure? You already seem stressed.”
You glared at him. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.” His eyes glimmered lazily. “But also, slow down. You already look like you’ve had five shots.”
“Lost count now,” you muttered, finally snatching the cart from him.
You took another slow drag, exhaling toward the ceiling as warmth spread through your chest. Your head spun lightly, but somehow Suna’s presence grounded you at the same time. Like standing outside right before a thunderstorm. Quiet, but charged.
His gaze lingered on you longer this time. From your lips to your collarbone and back again.
“So,” he said, voice lower now, “what are you actually doing here?”
You opened one eye. “Smoking, apparently.”
A soft laugh left him. “No. I mean at the party. You don’t exactly seem thrilled to be here.”
“It’s alright,” you admitted. “Feels like a bunch of people pretending they’re still in high school.”
“You included?”
You smiled faintly. “Maybe.”
Another silence settled over the room.
Your gaze drifted back to him.
God.
He was still unfairly handsome. Not polished the way Lev was. Not neat. Suna looked careless in the most dangerous way possible. Like he’d rolled out of bed looking like this and never thought twice about it. Messy hair, sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned just enough, smoke clinging to his voice.
You cleared your throat and pushed off the wall. “I should go. Pretend to socialize.”
Suna didn’t move. He only leaned further back against the windowsill, grinning lazily.
“You go do that.”
“You’re not coming?”
“I’ll be right here,” he said with a wink.
You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you as you walked out.
Downstairs, you found Bokuto, Akaashi, and even Kenma dancing against his will. You melted back into the crowd, hugging Kiyoko and Yachi, waving at Hinata and Daichi, taking shots with Tanaka and Sugawara, who were already completely flushed from alcohol.
Everyone kept asking what you were doing now, where you lived, how you somehow looked “exactly the same.” The night blurred into loud music, laughter, old stories, and too many drinks.
Eventually, your head spun harder than the room did.
You excused yourself and headed upstairs again, slipping back into the bathroom.
Suna was still there.
Half-laughing to himself, half-faded, drink balanced loosely in his hand.
His grin widened the second he saw you. “Wasn’t fun downstairs?”
“Shut up,” you muttered, steadying yourself against the wall. “You missed karaoke. Bokuto hit a Mariah Carey note.”
Suna laughed immediately, wincing. “I'm glad I missed that then.”
You snorted and reached for another shot sitting abandoned near the sink.
“You really shouldn’t,” he said, though he made no effort to stop you.
You downed it anyway, licking your lips afterward before the words slipped out without warning.
“You wanna hang out sometime?”
Suna blinked, visibly surprised.
Then his expression softened into an easy grin.
“Sure,” he said. “Since you’re apparently still the 'cool girl' from high school. Glad you didn’t change.”
You smirked slightly. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”
He shook his head slowly, eyes darker now.
“Nah,” he murmured. “That’s what I always liked about you.”
A beat passed between you. Heavy enough to notice.
Then you stepped back.
“Well,” you said lightly, “I should probably find my friends before they start a search party.”
Suna nodded toward the door. “Careful on the stairs, party girl.”
With Akaashi’s help, you somehow made it back to the car, stumbling slightly as they guided you inside. Bokuto was already sprawled across the backseat scrolling through his phone, while Kenma muttered something about getting “Wi-Fi poisoning” from the party.
“You okay?” Kuroo asked from the driver’s seat.
“Peachy,” you slurred, sinking into the seat.
Bokuto immediately leaned forward. “So? What happened with Lev?”
You groaned dramatically. “He tried to rekindle something. I said no.”
“Good,” Kenma said instantly.
Then, after a beat, he added:
“But I did see you upstairs with Suna Rintarou.”
The car went silent for exactly one second.
Then everyone started talking over each other.
“Ooooh,” Kuroo dragged out. “So that’s who you were hiding with?”
“You and Suna? No way, I need DETAILS,” Bokuto shouted excitedly.
Even Akaashi smirked faintly from the passenger seat. “Interesting choice.”
You buried your face in your hands, cheeks burning. “Shut up. All of you.”
By the time they dropped you off at your apartment, you were exhausted and still slightly dizzy.
As you stumbled toward the stairs, Kuroo rolled the window down and yelled:
“Text us if you hang out with your mystery window guy again!”
You flipped them off over your shoulder, laughing despite yourself.
When you finally got inside, you kicked your heels off, peeled your dress over your head, and collapsed face-first onto your bed.
The room spun softly around you.
Lev was behind you now.
And you knew Suna was nowhere near done with you yet
Synopsis: You slip away from the noise, finding a mysterious boy sitting alone, smoking in the dark. Drawn to him, you sit beside, and what begins as a shared silence quickly sparks into something unexpected, electric and unforgettable.
!!: Timeskip!Characters, Smoker!Suna, use of weed/alcohol, eventual smut (not in this chapter), Reader is Lev’s ex.
This is taken from Wattpad from MY account. I changed the Y/N stuff, figured nobody likes that anymore.
✧ Smoke and Mirrors ✧
The next evening came faster than you expected.
You were standing in your kitchen when the knock came. You rushed and opened the door to find all four of them: Kuroo with his usual smirk and tousled hair, Kenma with his Switch tucked into his pocket for once, Bokuto already bouncing on his heels, and Akaashi holding a garment bag like this was a wedding rather than a party.
“You’re on time,” you said, raising an eyebrow.
Kuroo grinned. “Are you surprised or impressed?”
“Disappointed,” you teased, stepping aside.
They all flooded in like they owned the place. The scent of aftershave, hair gel, and faint excitement followed them. Music played softly from the speaker in your living room while jackets were tossed on chairs, and Bokuto was already asking where the mirror was so he could “double check his energy.”
As you all got ready, the mood shifted to something warm, nostalgic. Kuroo and Bokuto swapped stories about old tournaments while Kenma, of course, gravitated to a quiet corner with his phone. Akaashi helped you find the earrings you swore you left on your dresser, and for a moment, it felt like high school again, chaotic, loud, and weirdly comforting.
You laughed at something Bokuto said, then grabbed your dress from your room.
“Okay, I’m gonna go get dressed in the bathroom. Do not start drinking without me.”
Kuroo raised his hands. “No promises.”
Inside the bathroom was a mess. Hair gel, straightener, and your expensive skincare which looked like it was used. You checked your makeup, fixed your eyeliner, curled a few loose strands of your hair, and stared at your reflection. You didn’t feel nervous, but something was pulling at your chest, like a string tied to a door you hadn’t opened in years.
When you emerged, all four of them turned.
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
“Whoa,” Bokuto said. "Almost forgot you were gorgeous."
“You look beautiful,” Akaashi added with a small nod of approval.
Kuroo gave a dramatic whistle. “Damn! You’re gonna ruin lives tonight.”
Kenma looked up, blinked, and muttered, “Nice.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, your cheeks a little warm.
“Thank you guys, but we should get going before I change my mind,” you said, grabbing your clutch.
“A shooter?” Kuroo offered.
“Bet.” you smiled.
They piled into Kuroo’s car, Bokuto squished in the middle of the backseat, practically vibrating with excitement. Akaashi quietly controlled the playlist while Kenma complained about how long the drive was. The streetlights passed you like soft stars, and the city outside hummed with spring energy, cool air, the distant beat of music, the scent of something sweet in the wind.
Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s house was exactly what you expected, loud music, a mix of warm yellow lights and string bulbs, and the unmistakable buzz of too many voices layered over each other. The front yard was already full of people talking and laughing, drinks in hand, hugs being exchanged like years hadn’t passed.
As you approached the door, Oikawa opened it.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled, arms already outstretched. “Look who decided to grace us with their presence!”
He hugged each of you, even Kenma, who flinched like he’d just been ambushed. Then he turned to you.
“Still stunning, I see,” he winked.
“Still extra, I see,” you replied, smiling.
You stepped inside, and almost instantly, your heartbeat skipped. The music shifted, the crowd moved, and there he was.
Suna Rintarou.
You knew Suna, everybody did. But it always felt like there was something there you couldn't put your finger on. Unfinished, unspoken.
He was walking through the crowd with Osamu and Atsumu, laughing at something Atsumu was saying. His black shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, a silver chain resting loosely around his neck, drink in hand. His gaze slid across the room lazily,
And landed on you.
Your eyes locked. Briefly. But long enough.
You looked away quickly, moving deeper into the house, into the warmth, the noise, anything that didn’t look at you like that.
“Hey,” Kuroo suddenly said beside you, tapping your arm. “Look who’s here.”
You turned, and saw Lev, standing by the kitchen archway, chatting with someone you didn’t recognize.
Your stomach dropped.
“Kuroo,” you hissed. “Don’t you dare—”
Too late. He was already walking toward Lev with that matchmaker spark in his eyes.
You swore under your breath. “Kenma. Kenma, hide me. Lev is—”
Kenma blinked, confused. “What? Where?”
You ducked behind him.
But by the time Kenma caught on, it was already over.
Lev had seen you.
He made his way over, smiling, tall as ever, still carrying that same boyish energy—just sharpened now, older. His voice was soft, almost sheepish.
“Hey,” he said. “Wow. You look… great.”
“Hi,” you replied, your smile polite, controlled.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good. Busy. Life, you know?”
He nodded, unsure. And for a second, something old stirred. Something fragile and unfinished, pressing against your ribs.
“I’ll see you around,” you said quickly, and before he could answer, you grabbed Bokuto’s wrist and dragged him toward the patio. Akaashi followed without a word.
Outside, the air felt clearer. String lights glowed overhead.
You took a couple shots--one, then another. Bokuto leaned back against the wall, watching you.
“So… what happened with you and Lev?”
You stared into your empty cup. “We dated. Back in high school. It was sweet, but stupid. He left. We lost touch.”
“And?”
“And nothing,” you said. “There was no big ending. Just silence.”
Bokuto nodded, quieter now. “That kinda stuff sticks with you.”
“It does,” you said softly.
After a while, Bokuto and Akaashi drifted toward the dance floor, someone yelling about karaoke, and Bokuto, of course, couldn’t resist.
You stayed behind, watching the crowd move.
You didn’t even notice Lev approaching until he was beside you again.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
You hesitated. “Lev… I really don’t—”
“Just for a minute,” he said. “Please.”
You exhaled, biting the inside of your cheek. “Fine.”
He looked nervous. Rare for him.
“I know I disappeared. I know we were just kids, but I think about it sometimes. About you. About us. I’ve changed a lot. I’m not that same guy anymore, but I… I still want to try.”
You looked at him for a long moment.
The music thumped behind you. Your heart matched it, beat for beat.
“You were my first real relationship,” you said. “And I cared about you. But I’m not the same either. And what we had? That’s not something I want again. I’ve moved on.”
His expression slipped, just slightly. He nodded. “I understand.”
You didn’t stay. You turned, went back inside, grabbed another shot, and knocked it back fast.
Your feet moved before your thoughts could catch up, up the stairs, down the hall, to a bathroom that, somehow, was empty.
You shut the door and leaned against the sink, staring at yourself.
“My God,” you whispered.
Then you turned—
And froze.
Suna was leaning against the wall near the window, drink in hand.
hello hello! may i request kunimi headcannons?? thank you very very much if you do!
Akira Kunimi ✧ bf headcanons
⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆
fluff, crack, nsfw, dating headcanons, him being down bad.
Pre-Dating ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
He notices you way before you notice him. You slowly become part of his routine. Same hallway, same seat, same bus.
He’s not the type to chase. If anything, he just lingers around you more than usual.
Doesn't flirt, he will bluntly say that he likes you and wants to be your boyfriend when the time is right.
Dating - SFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
Lowkey gets competitive for your attention, but you’d never catch him being obvious about it.
Texts are inconsistent but intentional. If he sends a paragraph all the sudden, better prepare yourself cause it's something serious.
He studies you like a game he’s trying to beat efficiently. your habits, your reactions, what makes you smile.
If you’re stressed, he won’t comfort you in a soft way. he’ll sit next to you and go: “you’re overthinking it.” but he will stay and make sure you feel better.
Physical affection is subtle but constant.
He’ll complain about doing things, but still does them for you.
He is SO PROTECTIVE and SO JEALOUS.
He loves when you sit close to him while he’s doing something. studying, scrolling, watching a game. You don’t even have to talk.
He will memorize your schedule without even realizing. He will remind you of important dates, tests and everything.
He doesn’t initiate plans often, but when he does? they’re weirdly perfect for you. Like he’ll go, “let’s go here,” and it’s somewhere you mentioned once months ago.
He absolutely LOVES when you lean on him. Both physically or emotionally.
He’ll definitely judge your bad habits but still accommodate them.
He’s the type to sit beside you and automatically adjust to your pace. Walking slower if you’re tired, matching your steps without saying anything.
You become his default person. Like if something mildly interesting happens, you’re the one he tells.
He respects your independence a lot. He’s not clingy, doesn’t need constant updates. You'll still feel his presence though.
Your contact name in his phone is YOUR FULL GOVERNMENT NAME. He doesn't get why people use pet names to save someone on their phone.
He always notices when you change ANYTHING. New nails? New lashes? He'll notice right away.
Dating - NSFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
VERY observant. Will notice everything. He will focus on how your breathing changes, what makes you tense up, what makes you melt, what makes you loud...He'll adjust to you constantly.
Teasing is his thing. Slow, drawn out and unfair till you beg.
Not much of a talker, but when he does it will hit perfectly.
Prefers to be the one controlling you, aggressive or not. He will guide you one day and destroy you the next.
Eye contact is lethal. He doesn’t look away. Ever.
He LOVES when you break your composure. that’s when he gets a little meaner, a little more amused.
Definitely loves it when you're being more bratty than usual. It gets him going to "tame" you.
If you really want him to bottom, he will definitely be a brat or a power bottom for sure.
He doesn't rush. Will take his time. If you try to rush him, he will go slower on purpose.
Absolutely LOVES public sex. The fear of getting caught keeps him going.
He’ll get things just to a certain point and then stop, acting like nothing happened.
He'll casually do his work or talk to his teammates on the phone while fingering you.
He enjoys it when you're frustrated with him.
If you boss him around in bed, after an argument, he will be SO DOWN BAD might just cum from your touch.
Likes it when you challenge him.
He's not super reactive but he has sensitive areas.
He uses your own habits against you.
Aftercare, he is surprisingly soft. Not overly affectionate but will not let you go till you catch your breath. Might even say something cheesy. ıf you fall asleep on him, he will NOT move.
BONUS ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
He's the type to steal your most random stuff and blame your friends for it. "Oh, your hair tie? Your friend who came over yesterday probably took it."
His hands and feet are always cold and he loves to annoy you with them.
Has moments where he will just start making out with you, in public, in front of everyone just to embarrass you.
Synopsis: You slip away from the noise, finding a mysterious boy sitting alone, smoking in the dark. Drawn to him, you sit beside, and what begins as a shared silence quickly sparks into something unexpected, electric and unforgettable.
!!: Timeskip!Characters, Smoker!Suna, use of weed/alcohol, eventual smut (not in this chapter), Reader is Lev’s ex.
This is taken from Wattpad from MY account. I changed the Y/N stuff, figured nobody likes that anymore.
✧ A Knock of the Past ✧
The hum of your laptop was the only sound in the apartment. It blended with the faint pattering of rain against the window and the soft ticking of the wall clock. You sat at the kitchen table in a faded college sweatshirt, your coffee long gone cold. You stared at the spreadsheet on your screen, your mind wandering away from the pile of deadlines.
Your phone buzzed beside you. A name lit up the screen: Kuroo Tetsurou.
A tiny jolt of surprise flickered through your chest. You hadn’t spoken to him in a few weeks—not since that half-hearted meme war over Instagram DMs and the belated birthday voice message he sent you three months after the fact. Still, something about Kuroo always felt like opening a door you didn’t know you’d missed. You picked up.
“Hey,” you said.
“You busy?” he asked. There was no hello, just his voice sounding clipped, rushed, slightly amused. That was typical Kuroo. Always in the middle of a plan.
“Kinda. Why?”
“We need to meet. Like, right now.”
You paused, your brows knitting together. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain when I get there. Can I come over?”
“Sure, I guess. You can be here in—?”
“Twenty. See you then.”
Before you could say anything else, he hung up.
You stared at the screen. “What the hell, Kuroo?”
Still, you got up, rolling your shoulders. Your apartment wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t exactly “people are coming over” clean either. You threw on a hoodie, tied your hair up, and buzzed around the space, fluffing pillows, lighting your cinnamon candle, and tossing together a snack tray like you weren’t slightly panicking.
You expected Kuroo.
Just Kuroo.
So when the doorbell rang and you opened it to find Kuroo, Kenma, Bokuto, and Akaashi, you froze.
“You brought an entire volleyball team,” you said flatly.
Kuroo grinned. “Mini team. Don’t be dramatic.”
Kenma looked up from his Switch just long enough to give you a soft “hey” before stepping inside. Bokuto was already bouncing in place, and Akaashi offered you a polite smile and a box of pastries he’d apparently brought.
“This is a setup,” you said, eyeing them all. “You said you were coming over.”
Kuroo looked smug. “And technically, I did.”
You sighed, but stepped aside to let them in. “You owe me an explanation.”
They all settled into your living room. Kenma curled into the beanbag chair like a sleepy cat, Bokuto sprawled across the floor like he owned the place, and Akaashi was already arranging teacups next to the snacks you’d laid out.
Once they were comfortable, Kuroo clapped his hands.
“Alright. So here’s the deal,” he said. “Hanamaki and Matsukawa are throwing a reunion party tomorrow night.”
Kenma didn’t even look up from his console. “Hard pass.”
“They’re calling it The Legendary Reunion,” Kuroo added with a smirk.
“Even worse,” Kenma muttered. “That sounds like a frat house marketing stunt.”
“High school. Our year. Other schools. People we played against. Ex-managers. Some people I’m not even sure we liked,” Kuroo said, half-laughing.
Kenma groaned. “Hanamaki and Matsukawa are the real life version of Skins. Their idea of a party is setting something on fire and calling it ambiance.”
Akaashi sipped his tea, thoughtful. “To be fair, the last time they hosted something, someone tried to jump of the roof.”
“Exactly,” Kenma said without missing a beat. “And that someone was Hanamaki.”
Kuroo waved a hand. “That’s the charm. We survived high school together. We can survive one night.”
Kenma sighed dramatically and let his Switch fall onto his chest. “Only if there’s a quiet corner with a charging outlet and nobody tries to do karaoke.”
“No promises,” Bokuto said, looking way too excited. “But I’ll do karaoke with you if you want!”
“Yeah nevermind,” Kenma mumbled.
You watched them, a fond smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It was strange how quickly old rhythms came back, like no time had passed. But as the conversation turned to who else might be at the party—Ushijima, Suna, even Terushima—your thoughts drifted somewhere else entirely.
To your ex.
Lev Haiba.
You hadn’t heard his name yet, but it lingered at the edges of your mind like a ghost waiting to be noticed. You hadn’t seen him since graduation. Your relationship back then had been… innocent, maybe even a little ridiculous. He was tall and clueless and full of energy he didn’t know what to do with. Your relationship had started from shared laughter and passed notes, stupid nicknames, and clumsy attempts at being romantic.
He once tried to serenade you outside the gym with a ukulele. He didn’t know how to play it. He didn’t even own it, it was borrowed from someone in the music club. But he was like that: all heart, no plan.
It wasn’t serious. Not in the way adult relationships are serious. But it mattered.
Your breakup was simple, he went abroad for modelling, and you stayed. There was no fight, no tears.
But sometimes, you still caught yourself wondering what would happen if he walked through your door again.
Would you recognize him? Would he remember the way you used to fall asleep during his long-winded speeches about spiking angles and footwork? Would he smile the way he used to, like the sun was just something he wore?
Was he going to be at the party?
You weren’t sure if you wanted him to be or not.
You blinked and came back to the present.
Kuroo was elbowing Kenma, who looked like he was about to fall asleep again.
“Well?” Kuroo turned to you. “You coming?”
You inhaled slowly, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll go.”
Bokuto fist-pumped. “YES! I knew you would!”
“But,” you added, pointing a finger at them, “if I’m going to be emotionally unprepared for this, you’re all getting ready at my place. Tomorrow. My house. We pre-game here.”
“I accept these terms,” Kuroo said solemnly.
“Your kitchen’s better than mine anyway,” Akaashi agreed.
Kenma just mumbled, “Only if I get the beanbag again.”
They stayed a while longer, falling into easy conversation—talking about old teammates, wondering what Noya was doing now, and laughing about the time Bokuto got his head stuck in a locker (he insisted it was partially Kuroo’s fault).
Eventually, they stood to leave, the night creeping in with a soft drizzle outside. Kuroo pulled on his jacket and lingered by the door.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “It’s gonna be fun.”
You smiled, your heart oddly tight in your chest. “Yeah.”
As the door closed behind them and silence returned to your apartment, you stared out at the streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement.
Tomorrow, you might see Lev again.
And whether that thought filled you with hope or dread—
You couldn’t quite tell.
But either way, it was going to mean something.
Literally hated this chapter SO MUCH. But we gotta do what we gotta do…#2020warrior
Synopsis: At a chaotic Nekoma victory party, Kuroo meets his match in someone who refuses to fold under his usual teasing.
!!: porn with plot, eventual smut, bitchy kuroo, language warning, dirty talk, praising and a little degrading
Word Count: 2.1k
The music isn’t loud in a clean way. It bleeds.
It leaks out of blown speakers and rattles against the walls, bass a little too heavy, like someone turned it up just to prove they could. The whole place feels warmer than it should. Not cozy warm. The kind that sticks to your skin, makes everything feel slower, heavier. Sweat, cheap alcohol, someone’s cologne hanging in the air too long.
Nekoma’s celebrating.
They should be.
There’s a kind of pride moving through the room, loud and restless. Laughter bursts in sharp pockets, voices overlapping, people talking over each other like no one’s ready to let the moment settle. Jerseys half-off, half-tucked, discarded on chairs or floors like its proof. Proof that they won. Boys who usually play it cool are louder, looser.
Nekoma had just beaten Karasuno.
It smells like soda, cheap alcohol, and that faint, sharp edge of sweat that only shows up when a room gets too full, too fast.
And then there’s Kuroo.
The captain.
You don’t even see him at first. You hear him. That low, easy laugh that carries just enough to cut through the noise, like he knows exactly how much space he takes up and doesn’t bother shrinking it.
When you finally glance over, he’s leaning back against the wall, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, head tilted as he probably listens to someone talk about how “awesome” he was. Everybody talked about how "awesome" Kuroo Tetsuro was.
His eyes flick around, scanning, bored already, checking to see if he can spot some of his teammates.
Then they land on you.
His mouth tilts. Not a smile. Not fully.
You look away first.
Just because you can.
–
You’re halfway through a conversation you don’t really care about, nodding at the right moments, when the space beside you shifts.
“You celebrating,” a voice says, close enough that you feel it more than hear it, “or just pretending to?”
There it is.
You don’t turn immediately. Let him wait half a second.
Then you glance over.
Kuroo’s standing way too close for someone who just walked up casually. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a drink he hasn’t touched. His expression is relaxed, but his eyes are sharp, already watching for your reaction like this is a game he’s played a hundred times.
“Depends,” you say, taking your time. “you always this annoying, or is tonight special?”
He laughs.
“Only when someone keeps up.”
So that’s how he wants to play it.
You shift slightly, turning toward him fully now instead of angling away. Closing the gap he created without making it obvious.
“Bold assumption,” you reply. “you think I’m trying to keep up?”
His gaze drops, quick. Takes you in like he’s trying to see inside you. Or your clothes.
“Thought you were,” he says. “guess I overestimated you.”
You huff, almost a laugh, shaking your head.
“Yeah? That’s embarrassing for you.”
That lands.
You see it in the way his posture changes just slightly. Not defensive. Just… more focused.
The room around you keeps moving. Someone shouts. A cup hits the floor somewhere behind you. Music switches tracks with an awkward pause.
None of it touches this space.
Kuroo steps a fraction closer.
“You talk a lot,” he says, voice dipping just a little, “for someone who hasn’t walked away yet.”
There it is.
“Maybe I’m waiting,” you say, “to see if you’re actually interesting.”
“Careful,” he murmurs. “you might end up disappointed.”
You shrug.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Good,” he says, almost to himself. “I was getting bored.”
You smile. Not big. Not soft.
Just enough to match him.
“Then don’t waste my time.”
Across the room, Kenma glances up from his phone, looks directly at the two of you, and then, without a word, goes back to his screen like he’s already accepted whatever’s about to happen.
Smart.
You probably should too.
Kuroo tilts his head slightly, eyes still locked on yours.
“Alright,” he says. “let’s see how long you last.”
You don’t even blink.
“Try me.”
It doesn’t take long. That’s the problem.
--
You barely make it through another conversation before you feel it again—that shift in the air, like something’s locked onto you.
Predictable.
You don’t look for him this time.
You let him come to you.
And he does.
“Getting bored already?”
His voice is closer than expected, low enough that it doesn’t carry past you. You turn your head just slightly, enough to catch him in your peripheral before actually facing him.
“Thought you said you weren’t a waste of time.”
Kuroo hums, like he’s considering that.
“Still deciding.”
You scoff under your breath, pushing off the wall you didn’t even realize you’d leaned against.
“Then decide faster.”
You don’t wait for a response. You move.
You know you'll be moaning under Kuroo Tetsuro at the end of the night anyway.
Just a shift through the crowd, slipping past people, toward the quieter end of the apartment where the music dulls and conversations blur into background noise.
You hear it behind you.
Footsteps. Of course.
The hallway’s dimmer, lit by some weak overhead light that flickers just enough to make everything feel slightly off. The noise from the party drops the further you go until it’s just a distant thrum, like a heartbeat you’re not part of anymore.
You stop near the end, by a door. Not fully isolated, but close enough.
He follows.
“Running away?” Kuroo asks, voice carrying that same lazy edge.
You turn, leaning back against the wall again, arms crossing loosely.
“Thought you liked a challenge.”
“I do.”
He’s closer now. No buffer. No crowd.
“Doesn’t look like it,” you shoot back. “you’re taking your time.”
His eyes narrow just slightly, not annoyed.
Interested.
“Careful,” he says, stepping in just enough to close the space you left. “you keep pushing like that, you might get more than you planned for.”
You tilt your head.
“Sounds like you’re warning me.”
He just grins, that sharp, lopsided thing that makes you want to either punch him or pull him apart, and reaches past you to twist the handle of the nearest door. The room is dark, smelling of laundry detergent and old wood, but he doesn't give you a second to adjust. He crowds you against the wood of the door, the thud of the frame echoing through your spine.
You watch him. You watch him as his eyes undress you before his hands.
You knew you too would end up like this now or later. But you can't help but get impatient as you look at the Kuroo Tetsuro towering over you.
"So brave in the hallway," he sneers playfully, his hands already diving under the hem of your shirt. His palms are calloused, and they feel electric against your ribs. "Where’d all that energy go? You’re awfully quiet now that there's no audience."
"Shut up, Tetsurō," you breathe out, reaching for his belt as you guide him to the bed.
"Make me."
He drops to his knees with a fluid, predatory grace while you adjust yourself on the edge of the bed. He doesn't go straight for the prize; he lingers, his breath hot through the fabric of your underwear, making you ache. He hooks his thumbs into the elastic, dragging the lace down your legs with agonizing slowness.
"Look at you," he whispers, a bitchy little smirk playing on his lips as he gazes up at you. "Told you you'd get more than you planned for. You’re already shaking."
He doesn't give you time to deny it. He brushes a long, nimble finger over your folds, finding the spot where you're already soaked and ready. He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, a light, teasing pressure that makes your hips instinctively buck forward.
"You want this so bad, don't you?" He looks up, his eyes hooded and dark, gleaming with the satisfaction of a win. "Too bad. I think we’re gonna take this slow. I want to see if you're all that talk."
He slides one finger inside you, then two, his knuckles grazing your sensitive walls. He pumps them in a slow, torturous rhythm, his thumb never leaving your clit, pinning it down just enough to keep you on the verge of screaming. You reach down, clutching at his messy black hair, trying to force him to move faster, but he resists, biting the inside of your thigh just hard enough to leave a mark.
"Stop rushing," he chides, his voice muffled against your skin.
"I told you not to waste my time, Kuroo." You whine.
Like a soldier who has received his command, He increases the pace, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that one spot that makes your toes curl and your vision go hazy. The sound of him fingering you, that wet, rhythmic friction, fills the quiet room, drowning out the muffled bass of the party downstairs.
"Tetsuro, please," you gasp, your head thumping back against the door.
"Say my name again, please" he demands, his voice raw and stripped of the teasing edge for just a second, "Tell me exactly what you want, or I’m stopping right here."
He pulls his fingers out, leaving you cold and pulsing, hovering just inches away from the friction you're dying for. He stands up, looming over you, tip of his dick wet with precum already. The arrogance is back, but his hands are shaking, just a little, giving away how much he’s been craving this win since the first set of the match.
He doesn't wait for your permission. He grabs your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with a bruising grip that anchors you to him. When he pushes your legs apart, his eyes track the way you’re glistening, a dark, possessive satisfaction crossing his face.
"You're a mess," he murmurs, his voice a jagged rasp. "All that talk in the hallway and you're dripping for me. Admit it. You've been thinking about this since the third set. Bet our bickering turned you on too." He added.
"I was thinking about how much I wanted to shut you up," you fire back, though your voice breaks as he lines himself up. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in, your heels digging into the small of his back. "Don't act like you don't want this."
Kuroo’s jaw tightens. The teasing facade cracks just enough to show the primal, starving heat underneath. He lunges forward, driving himself into you in one deep, uncompromising thrust.
The air leaves your lungs in a sharp wheeze. He’s thick and uncompromising, stretching you to the limit. You feel every inch of him, the friction of his skin against your internal walls sending a jolt of pure electricity straight to your brain.
"There," he grunts, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath coming in short, harsh pants. "Quiet now, aren't you?"
He doesn't give you time to recover. He begins to move, pulling out until he’s almost gone before slamming back in, the wet slap of his hips hitting yours echoing in the small room. He’s intentional with every stroke, angling his body so that his pubic bone grinds directly against your clit with every downward shove. It’s a rhythmic, heavy friction that makes your vision swim.
"Tetsurō—slow down—" you gasp, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, knuckles white.
"Make up your mind, princess" he bites out, a mean little smirk tugging at his lips even as he speeds up. He’s relentless, his movements becoming more frantic, less like a game and more like a desperate need. "Don't back out now just because you can't keep up."
He reaches down between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and pinning it against his own skin as he thrusts. The dual sensation is overwhelming, the fullness of him stretching your vagina and the sharp, focused electricity of his thumb grinding against your nerves. You’re soaring, your internal muscles clenching around him in tight, involuntary pulses.
"You're so tight," he groans, his voice losing its composure, turning into something guttural and honest. "Dammit, you're trying to finish already, aren't you? You're so greedy for my dick."
"Shut up and f-fuck me," you sob out, your head tossing back against the pillows. "Please, right there—"
"I've got you," he whispers, his "bitchy" edge finally dissolving into the sheer worship of someone who is completely undone by you.
He shifts his grip, hooking his arms under your knees to lift you higher, pinning you against the door so he can drive upward with even more force. Each thrust hits your G-spot with clinical precision, sending waves of heat through your lower belly. The friction of your clit being mashed between your bodies becomes too much to bear.
You feel the build-up, a tightening in your thighs, a frantic heat blooming in your chest. You scream his name, your walls spasming violently around him as your orgasm hits, ripples of pleasure paralyzing your muscles.
Kuroo’s eyes blow wide at the sensation of you shattering around him. He lets out a low growl, his pace becoming a blurred, desperate friction for three more heavy, deep thrusts before he shudders, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside you.
The room is silent except for the sound of your shared, ragged breathing. He stays buried deep within you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, his grip on your hips softening but not letting go.
"Fuck," he breaths out against your skin, exhausted and completely defeated by the way you feel. "I think you won that one."
"we love you Kuroo Tetsurō" my 3 holes scream in unison
Could we PLEASEE get bf headcanons of Ushijima?? I love your writing sm
Ushijima Wakatoshi ✧ bf headcanons
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fluff, crack, nsfw, dating headcanons, him being down bad.
Pre-Dating ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
He definitely can't flirt. Instead, he watches you with the same intensity he uses to analyze a game. You’ll catch him staring, and when you ask why, he’ll say something devastatingly simple like, "You were focusing. It was impressive."
He starts showing up at your door or your desk right as you’re finishing up. He’ll claim he was "just passing by".
He will plan how to ask you out. "I am going to the park to run on Saturday. I believe the fresh air would benefit your productivity. You should come." It’s not a command, just a suggestion.
Dating - SFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
He isn’t big on public displays of affection, but he is very "grounding." He’ll rest a heavy hand on your shoulder or the small of your back. It feels like being anchored by a mountain.
If you jokingly say, "I’m so hungry I could eat a horse," he will look genuinely concerned and immediately start researching the nearest high-protein buffet to ensure you are properly fed. He will make sure you finish your food too.
Not big on words, but big on actions. Walks you places. Carries your things. Fixes problems before you notice them.
I just know he is a morning person. He’s up at 5:00 AM. If you’re a night owl, he’ll silently leave a glass of water and a protein bar by your bed, moving like a ghost so he doesn’t wake you, but leaving the curtains just cracked enough for the sun to help you wake up later.
Plans out dates to the smallest detail. He won't miss anything.
If you’re a creative (like a writer or artist), he takes your work very seriously. He’ll read every word of your blog or look at every sketch. He won't give empty praise; he’ll say, "This paragraph is very concise. It made me understand the character's motive immediately." To him, that is the highest compliment.
He has massive, calloused hands.
If you’re out in a crowd, he uses his physical stature like a human shield. He’ll subtly position himself so people don't bump into you, or he’ll walk on the street side of the sidewalk without even thinking about it.
If you try to get him into something he’s bad at (like a video game or a specific craft) he gets incredibly intense about it. He’ll sit there with a look of pure, terrifying concentration, trying to master the controls because he wants to be able to "properly participate" in things you enjoy.
If someone is being rude to you, he just stands up to his full height, stares them down with that blank, intimidating expression, and asks a very logical, pointed question that makes them realize they’re being an idiot. "Why are you speaking to them in that tone? It seems unnecessary."
He starts to memorize your non-verbal cues. He’ll notice the exact way you sigh when you’re tired versus when you’re frustrated. Before you even ask, he’s already handing you a coffee or opening a window. He treats your comfort like a skill he needs to master.
If you’re out with a group and you look even slightly uncomfortable or tired, he’ll lean down and whisper, "Do you wish to leave? I can create an excuse." He doesn't care about social obligations; your comfort is his priority.
Shares his meals with you without you asking for it.
He will tell you exactly what he thinks of your outfit or your ideas, but it’s never mean.
If you’re the type to get stressed or "cluttered," Ushijima is the perfect foil. When you’re spiralling about a deadline or a mistake, he’ll just place his hands on your shoulders, wait for you to look at him, and say, "You are capable. Panic is an inefficient use of your energy. Tell me the first task, and we will do it."
Dating - NSFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
When he’s with you, the rest of the world ceases to exist. He doesn't get distracted. His eyes stay on you, tracking every change in your expression and every hitch in your breath. He wants to know exactly what is happening to you in real-time.
He likes positions where he can hold your full weight, keeping you chest-to-chest while he moves.
He likes to "crowd" your space, using his large frame to box you in against a headboard or the mattress. He wants you to feel exactly how much space he takes up in your life. He also likes to overstimulate you, taking advantage of his size and dominance.
He is very hands-on. He likes to feel the curve of your waist or the back of your thighs, his large hands easily wrapping around you. He’s fascinated by the way your skin flushes and the way your muscles tension under his touch.
He isn't much of a "dirty talker", but he is incredibly vocal about his appreciation. He’ll murmur things in a low, rough voice that are almost painfully honest: "You feel so good," or "I've been thinking about this all day." Hearing him lose his usual composure is a massive ego boost.
If he feels like you haven't reached your peak yet, he won't stop. He is incredibly dedicated to making sure you are completely satisfied before he even considers his own finish. He views your pleasure as a personal responsibility.
INCREDIBLE STAMINA.
He is hyper-aware of how much stronger he is than you. There’s something incredibly intense about the way he holds back. If you want him to harder, you know you can just ask and he will make it happen.
He loves it when you’re vocal. He wants to hear every sound you make. If you try to bite your lip to stay quiet, he’ll gently pull it away with his thumb.
He has a habit of anchoring you. He might hold both of your wrists above your head with just one of his hands, or keep a firm grip on your hips to keep you exactly where he wants you.
He likes the lights on, or at least dimmed.
Once you’re both finished, he doesn't just roll over. He’ll pull you onto his chest, your head tucked under his chin. He likes to feel your heartbeat slowing down to match his.
BONUS ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
He will say something insanely intense and personal like “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before” and then immediately follow it up with “Do you want food?”
You’ll be rambling about something random and he’ll just be staring at you, completely locked in, and when you stop he’ll go “Continue.” like you’re a podcast he subscribed to.
If you're a dirty talker, he will genuinely try to have a conversation with you during sex.
Synopsis: in which popular girl!reader is done with shitty players and wants to try the newest delicacy: virgin nerds. It’s game on to seduce the physics student, who seems more than ready to abandon his life of celibacy.
But their arrangement only works if they’re both on the same page. What happens when one expects a little more than sex?
Is it game over?
Warnings: eventual smut, porn with plot, fake dating trope, college au, no curses au, mean girl!reader, fem dom!reader, nerd!jo, subby!gojo, virgin!gojo, masochist!gojo, some angst but with a happy ending, very early 2000s romcoms, reader grows a lot (hate towards her will not be tolerated), reader gets humbled quite often here lol, not proofread
Word Count: 26k
Gojo art by @/Leimiruu on X
Chapter ONE - Game start
Chapter TWO - Different levels
Chapter THREE - Boss fight
Chapter FOUR - Perfect victory
Disclaimers:
♤ All chapters have been written and will be updated weekly, every Monday. This will also be available on AO3 under reignpage. AO3 will be updated at the same time but broken down into smaller chapters, reading experience might be better over there.
♤ This is a mix of fluff, smut and angst, so minors/ageless blogs do not interact.
♤ There will be no taglist as I am pretty certain that I will, more or less, update on time, so be sure to check in on Mondays. But if I am late or cannot post for whatever reason, please do not harass me. I am probably too preoccupied to proofread each chapter to update, so badgering me for updates will not make them come quicker. Trust they will come.
♤ Any comments hating on the reader in this story will be deleted and the user will be blocked. The story plays on the mean girl trope so you will see mean girl behaviour. Just know this is all intentional. If you are sensitive to a flawed female character, do not read. I know what some of you are like. I have played these games before.
♤ This story was initially called All Lips No Gloss, but has now been changed to Bubblegum Bitch because MARINA is a queen.
♤ This is a college au separate from my EdenU au. Different Gojo and university setting altogether. Any semblance is coincidental.
♤ Every part of this is of my own work. No AI or external inspiration was used. Please do not repost this on Tumblr or on any other platform. I do not give permission for this to be translated. And please do not feed my work into AI.
sooo I searched your whollee page what about tsukishima bf head canons pleaseee :p
Tsukishima Kei ✧ bf headcanons
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fluff, crack, nsfw, dating headcanons, him being down bad.
Pre-Dating ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
When he realizes that he likes you, he won’t initiate a conversation, but he’ll consistently choose the seat or the standing spot that happens to be right next to yours. If you call him out, he’ll just give a dry "It was the only spot left."
He pretends to be focused on his music when you’re around, but if you mention a book or a band you like, you’ll notice that exact thing appearing in his search history or on his desk a week later.
Starts to find your mistakes "cute" instead of correcting them.
When it's time to confess, he'll wait for a moment of complete quiet, maybe walking home or sitting in a library. He'll drop it so casually you wouldn't realize it's a confession at first. "You're surprisingly tolerable to be around. I don't think I'd mind if we kept doing this every day."
Dating - SFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
Date nights often consist of sitting in comfortable silence. He’ll be reading or listening to music, and you’ll be doing your own thing, but his foot will be hooked around your ankle under the table.
He LOVES taking you to museums or planetariums. He’ll act like he’s just there for the exhibits, but he’s secretly watching your reaction to the displays more than the fossils.
He will absolutely use your head as an armrest. It’s his favorite way to tease you, especially if you’re trying to be serious.
He also loves resting his chin on your head. He’ll pretend he’s just doing it because he’s tired, but he secretly likes the way you fit perfectly under his jaw.
Making playlists for you is his love language. He has a playlist for every occasion.
LOVES to gossip with you.
If you’re studying together, he’ll finish his work twice as fast as you and then spend the rest of the time correcting your grammar or your math with a smirk. If you get genuinely frustrated, though, he’ll sigh, slide his chair closer, and actually explain the concept to you in a way that makes it click instantly.
His texts are short and punctuated correctly, but he’s a master of the perfectly timed, sarcastic reaction meme. He’s the type to send you a "Good luck" text before a big event, but follow it up with "Don't embarrass me" so you know he’s actually rooting for you.
Has a really sensitive nose.
He’s surprisingly protective. If his friends are being too loud or annoying around you, he’ll shut them down with a sharper-than-usual bite. He doesn't want you to be "bothered," which is his version of making sure you're comfortable.
Knows the sidewalk rule.
If someone asks how you’re doing, he’ll shrug and say, "They’re still as annoying as ever," but he’ll be wearing the tiniest, almost imperceptible smirk.
Super clumsy. Super embarrassed about it too.
Dating - NSFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
He is hyper-aware of the significant height difference and uses it to his advantage. He loves backing you against a wall or a closed door, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, and letting the silence stretch until you’re the one who breaks and pulls him closer. He loves it when you lose control.
He’s not afraid to use his length to try different positions that emphasize the height gap. He especially likes having you in his lap, where he can have full access to your body while keeping your face close enough to kiss, or to tease.
His sarcasm doesn’t disappear; it just gets lower and more intimate. He loves to whisper kinky stuff or callbacks to your day in your ear, reminding you of a moment you were flustered earlier just to make you even more flustered now.
Becomes super primal when he loses his "cool".
He’s fully aware of how long his limbs are. He loves using his reach to pin both of your wrists above your head with just one of his hands, looming over you to make you feel completely shadowed by him. He’ll use his legs to hook yours and pull you flush against him, mocking you in a low, gravelly voice about how small you feel.
He loves to keep you on the edge, using his long fingers to ghost over your skin without actually touching the spots you want him to. He waits until you’re breathless and begging before he finally gives in, and even then, he does it with a smug, "Is that all it takes to break you?"
He’ll hover just inches from your skin, his breath hot against your ear, but he won't touch you until you’re practically begging for it.
Aftercare with him is relaxing and calm. He’ll pull you against his chest, his skin still hot and damp, and let his fingers tangles in your hair. He won't say anything sentimental, but he’ll hold you with a grip that says he isn't letting you go anywhere.
BONUS ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
He has a specific playlist that he only listens to when he is thinking about you and jerking off to you.
I'm also %100 sure this man is a PERVERT. Long after you’ve left his room, he’ll find himself trailing his fingers over the exact spot on his sheets where you were sitting. He will edge himself while thinking about how good you looked under him.
Has a habit of biting his lower lip when he is trying to keep his composure. Accidentally cut his lip open from biting too hard once.
heyy, i looove ur headcanons, can we get Kita headcanons? pls pls pls, tysm!
Kita Shinsuke ✧ bf headcanons
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fluff, crack, nsfw, dating headcanons, him being down bad.
Pre-Dating ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
He'll find a way to make your paths cross EVERY TIME. He’ll happen to be finishing his chores just as you're leaving, or he’ll have an extra hand-warmer ready for you on a cold morning before you even realize your hands are freezing.
Will try to help you or solve everything for you. Your cardigan has a loose button? Will take it home and sew it back. Confused on an assignment? Will make time for you to tutor you. He doesn't do it to receive something back, he does it just to see you happy and relaxed.
The confession won't be a nervous stammer. I feel like he2d be the type to do it so casually but also so carefully. He will look you directly in the eye and say, "I’ve found that my days are better when you are part of them. I’d like to make that official, if you’re willing."
Dating - SFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
Acts of service is definitely his primary love language. Your bag is always packed neatly, your favorite tea is always brewed to the perfect temperature, and he always makes sure you’ve eaten enough.
Dates often consist of "working together." You might be reading while he mends clothes or organizes his gear.
He isn't big on PDA, but he will always keep a firm, protective hand on the small of your back or interlock your fingers while walking. It’s his way of grounding both of you.
He can pick up a scorching hot tea kettle or a potato straight out of the oven without flinching. He is definitely like a mom who can touch boiling water with bare hands.
I know he has a mental checklist just for you. "Do you have your umbrella? It’s a 40% chance of rain at 3:00 PM." He just genuinely wants you to be comfortable.
In the colder months, he will tuck those reusable heat packs into your coat pockets so they’re warm by the time you put them on. He might even knit you a scarf, I know this guy is so big on crafts and handmade gifts.
If you mention a book you’re curious about or a hobby you want to try, don't be surprised if he buys a "beginner's guide" to it. He wants to be able to talk to you about the things you love without being uninformed.
If he’s at your place and a poster is slightly crooked, he won’t say anything to interrupt the conversation, but his eyes will twitch toward it every 30 seconds until he finally walks over and fixes it.
He is very honest. Sometimes too honest but you know he will never say something that might hurt you or make you feel sad.
If you’re having a bad day or a breakdown, Kita doesn't get flustered. He doesn't try to "fix" your feelings with toxic/false positivity. He just sits with you, maybe holds your hand, and says, "It’s okay to be upset. Let’s breathe together, and then we’ll see what needs to be done next."
He definitely tells his grandma about you. You’ll know you’re "in" when she starts sending extra pickles or side dishes specifically for you to take home. His grandma is also the first person he goes to when you guys have an argument.
Dating - NSFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
Kita isn't one for "quickies" in stressful environments. For him, the environment must be right so he can focus entirely on you.
He’ll make sure the sheets are fresh, the room is the right temperature, and the door is locked. He wants you all to himself during intimate moments.
He is very big on "undressing" you. He wants to see every inch, appreciating you with a gaze that is so clinical yet so hungry it makes your skin tingle.
Definitely not a "lights off" kind of man. He wants to see the exact moment your pupils dilate and the way your expression fractures.
When he finally reaches his climax, his "proper" mask slips. His grip tightens, and his breathing, which is usually so rhythmic, becomes jagged. Hearing Shinsuke Kita lose his breath or mutter a quiet, strained "Wait..." because you're overwhelming him is the ultimate turn on.
Kita has a terrifyingly accurate internal clock. He knows exactly how long it’s been since you started, and he uses it to pace himself. He can tell when you're 30 seconds away from a peak just by the change in your pulse against his thumb.
He can lift you and hold you against a wall or a desk for an extended period without his arms shaking or his breathing hitching. It is effortless and steady.
He won't use flowery language. Instead, he’ll mutter something devastatingly honest like, "I've been thinking about doing this to you since you wore that dress." Hearing that from a man who is usually the pinnacle of discipline is enough to ruin you.
Because he’s so used to working with his hands, he is incredibly sensitive to your body temperature. He’ll notice the exact moment you get a "heat flush" on your chest or neck before you even realize you're peaking.
The slight roughness of his palms and fingers from his early volleyball career and late farm work provides a texture that is incredibly grounding. He knows exactly how much pressure to apply to make that friction feel intentional rather than accidental.
He’ll disappear for exactly two minutes and return with a basin of warm water and a soft cloth. He cleans you with such gentle, methodical strokes that it feels almost like a massage. If things got a bit messy, he’ll swap the sheets while you’re wrapped in a robe. He wants you to feel "reset" and comfortable, not sticky or cold.
BONUS ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
MASTER OF EDGING.
He likes to give "homework." If you're apart, he might give you a specific task to do for him and ask for a "report" later. In the moment, he might tell you exactly how to touch yourself while he watches. He’ll give corrections: "A little higher. Slower. Don't stop until I tell you." Following his instructions creates a feedback loop where your obedience turns him on more than anything else.
On days he’s particularly busy, he’ll lean in and whisper exactly what he’s going to do to you at 11:00 PM sharp, then spend the rest of the day acting like he didn't just ruin your focus.
The twins! There’s nerdjo 🤭and then there’s fratjo too ig, I was really excited when i saw nerdjo trending so I grabbed the opportunity to draw him hehe
